Picking Myself Up From Failure- Doing The Next Right Thing

First official day of summer vacation, yesterday, and I was already spent.  We'd driven down to Fenwick Island, Delaware, from our home in Pittsburgh, at the crack of dawn on Saturday, for a family trip to the beach. Seems wonderful, but two of our children have the attention span of a spastic mosquito, and by Monday morning, 6am, they were already bored.  BORED. AT THE BEACH. A WHOLE OCEAN WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE OF OUR RENTAL...AND. THEY. WERE. BORED.  Thus, began, the behaviors.  The whining, the fighting, the throwing of sand, the screaming, the ugly name-calling, the crying, the running away....by noon, I wanted to get drunk and leave town.  And I'm not really drinking anymore.  So, I did what my brain immediately equates with relief: I began eating...I ate double my portion of lunch, then headed to the infamous Candy Kitchen and went on a spree...a pound of fudge of varying flavors (did I mention that I DON'T EVEN LIKE FUDGE?), and a quarter pound of almond butter crunch. By the time I returned to our temporary home by the sea, I was discouraged and depressed- the better than sex almond chocolate stuff obliterated and the fudge, untouched (remember- I don't like fudge).  I wanted to quit my whole life at this point- or maybe just return for more candy...But, then, I made a choice...which has been absent from my repertoire until recently....I chose to do the next right thing. 

I changed into yoga pants and a tank top, laced up my running shoes, and left the townhouse, in the pitch dark, and ran.  Without street lamps, I had no idea how far I had gone, so I stopped after a while, and turned for home, a bit frustrated and a lot exhausted and out of breath- walking this time, at a decent pace.  The negative voice, which holds

Night running on Fenwick Island- No street lamps
to light my way.  Yes, I am a bit nuts but Determination Wins!

major real estate in my head, told me that I was such a loser because I wasn't running the mile, unbroken...that walking the way back was taking the chicken way out. It begged me to give up, eat some more, and then go to bed.  But I didn't.  I reached the front porch of our rental and proceeded to do forty air squats, then one hundred singles with my jump rope. 

This journey is not pretty-its edges are rough and inconsistent.  But each step teaches me something else I need for the long haul.  This lesson was about coming back from failure...about moving forward with a positive action,  which is not only possible, but the quickest way to save yourself from spiraling downward.  In the past, a binge would have led to more reckless eating, then despair- it would have been an excuse to quit my goals for good.  Instead, I went to bed, an hour later, feeling much more capable of triumph and second chances.  

 

What is your next right thing?