The beginning of a better me...

I am habit-less and void of any ritualistic routines.  Eating chocolate in its pure darkness, laced with milk or nuts, backed in cakes or molded into bars is the closes thing to a religious practice that I have.  The cacao tree is by far the best tree in the garden and it alone conveniences me that there is a God who is good.  

Even eating chocolate is not a habit and far from an addiction.  I have never been addicted to anything.  It is not that I have the strong will to resist cravings but rather that I don’t crave anything no matter how pleasurable, satisfying, delightful, or frequently I indulge.

Some might see this as a good thing because almost everyone is trying to get over something.  In keeping with that trend I have set out to get over my lack-of-habits.  I want habits; healthy habits but I’ll take some bad ones if they would stick around.

The self-analyses:

My childhood lacked formal routines.  I did not go to school every day and we did not celebrate annual occasions annually, including birthdays.  Every aspect of my childhood was sporadic and orchestrated by my eccentric parents.  As a result I never developed the habit to doing anything.

The bad thing about not being able to form habits is that it is difficult to complete anything or succeed.  Success is doing something well and in order to get to the point of doing anything well you have to do it again and again and again. You have to have discipline and commitment, which are the noble companions of habits.

Saying I am habit-less is a nice way of saying I lack discipline.  I am a failure by virtue that I have not completed anything.  I am one of those rare people in the age of free education in one of the wealthiest countries in the world who never completed elementary school, high school, or acquired a college degree.  My parents laid the foundation for my failures and I have been foolishly trying to build upon their foundations.   

The realization that I am in the habit of failing has brought me to the dire edges of desperation.  I want nothing more than to experience myself as a successful individual based upon my measure of success.  On the surface I have quite a wonderful life and I am thankful for all the blessings that have unfolded in the last year but there is something that bothers me—I am not growing.

I want to be better, to reach my goals and most importantly become the woman of my dreams.  She is successful, disciplined, devoted, beloved, graceful, and wise.   As I set out to become the dream of myself I am confronted by the person I was molded to be—a poor, fearful, lonely victim. Upon removing the cloak of cruelty and misfortunes, I discover a jeweled gown that fits me perfectly.

To jump start my commitment to succeed and excel, I decided to fast for 30-days.  No solid food; just fresh vegetable and fruit juices, seed and nut milk, aromatic soups and teas, and water. The objective is simply, I will physically oppose myself and master my determination to do what I want to do. I will become who I was born to be. 

I declare war on my limitations and I’m using food to symbolize those unconscious habits that hinder my growth.  My will verse my body,  my spirit versus my mental conditioning,  my heart versus my pain.  I will becoming a better person or die trying.