It’s Kindof a Funny Story…

I wasn't always bogged down by excess...

It’s 10:11 p.m. in Salt Lake City, UT on the first day of 2012. My name is Rebecca. I am 38. I had forgotten some things about myself. I recently remembered some of them. Unfortunately, the physical takes awhile to catch up with the mental. (Wait, what?)

My apartment is stuffed with stuff. I have a storage unit crammed with crap. I watch TV obsessively. I am carrying almost 30 extra pounds. I never exercise. I eat like shit. I am in a financial quagmire.

My choices and actions (or non-actions) have brought me to this place. But all that is about to change.

Two weeks ago I started a 101-day challenge that will last until the first day of spring. I have 101-days to shuck the shit, divorce the drama, free the fat and accomplish my goal of Excess Emancipation.

I’m currently on day 5 of at least 10 of an all fruit & greens smoothies detox. After that I will move to a 90% all raw food diet, which I will stick to until the first day of spring (March 21st). (although I did have 1 glass of champagne last night to ring in the new year!). I committed this morning to a 40-day Sadhana practice, which I will begin next Sunday. I will get control of my finances. I will replace TV with loftier pursuits. I have shunned smoking. And I will be divesting myself of 50%-75% of my possessions.

There are many more milestones involved in stripping away this material madness, but I’m not touching all that tonight. Why? Because I’m f***ing tired!

And why am I so tired?

It’s January 1. I was out until almost 3 a.m. being awesome. I got up and went to a 2 and a 1/2 hour New Years Day yoga class (the first real yoga class I’ve been to in almost 4 years). Then I swung by a local juice bar for a wheat grass shot before going to the park for a walk.

I was marveling at my awesomeness and the beautiful day and walked just long enough to get really far away from a bathroom. Despite my cheery disposition, my body “rejected” the wheat grass shot. I almost made it home in time… but then I did not. It wasn’t pretty. There were tears.

So. Can wheat grass give you food poisoning? Was it moldy? Did I receive a special new present of a wheat grass allergy? All I know is being locked in the loo for the afternoon = tired.

I digress. I will elucidate over the next weeks on the topics of: how I got here, what sparked the “sudden” urge to simplify, the team I have to help me succeed, what the “finish line” looks like, and the specific milestones and timelines I have created.

Pow! Pow! Here goes nothing. To Life!