Does My Dream Still Wait?

Hello blog,
I've neglected you, haven't I. One observation I've made about wellness bloggers: the frequency of posts is directly proportional to discipline. The more discipline, the more success, the more desire to write.

Let's see now. Hmm. Three months... three stinkin' months without a post. Based on my hypothesis that discipline results in frequent posts, an astute reader could reasonably ascertain that a three month hiatus does not bode well. Indeed.

WHAT HAPPENED? I honestly ask that question. I was doing SO well. Better than anytime in my life. Emotionally, spiritually, physically... improvement on every level.

Using my previous metaphor about the mountain climber, at some point in September, I climbed semi-conscious from my sleeping bag, sleepwalked down the trail, drove zombie-like out of the forest to the nearest town where I proceeded to troll the four-lane highway (every town has one just outside the city limits, complete with a Wal-mart and two dozen or so fast food joints). Here I am three months later waking up from the stupor with an empty ketchup packet dried to my cheek and a car full of McTaco King boxes littering the floorboard. Worst of all, I'm craving a Chocolate dipped Dunkin-Blizzard.

Three months ago I was dreaming of increased health and wellness and was realizing that dream. Then, I became comatose and left the dream back at the campsite. I wonder if it still waits for my return. As the days have shortened and the leaves have fallen and the blue skies given way to winter's gray, does that dream huddle under a thread-bare blanket with her arms wrapped around her cold legs and wonder why I left her forlorn beside the gray ashes in the campfire ring?

How do I dare approach her and ask for a second chance? Second chance? Who am I fooling? She's heard it all a thousand times, and yet, she keeps taking me back. She listens to my apologies, my "I'll do betters", and with a painful and sweet smile always opens her arms to fresh beginnings. How do I have the audacity to ask once again, especially after we had so bonded, the dream and I, only to be amputated, both left with tatters where whole flesh once grew?

And, yet, what choice do I have. The dream was created for me and me for her.

So, I sit underneath a black sky and golden arches and prepare to prepare to prepare to drive back to the trail head and start the climb again, knowing it will be even harder with a body that's been fuel-injected with trans-fats and high fructose corn syrup.