Do you accept responsibility for your choices in life?

The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You do not blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the president. You realize that you control your own destiny. - Albert Ellis

I shouldn't be surprised by this journal topic. It's not old news for me. Since the first day I could comprehend more than two words strung together, my dad's been pounding this same concept into my head. Everything you do is a choice. Everything that happens to you is a choice. Sometimes, it leads to ugly thoughts (sure, he cheated on you, but you made the choice to let it happen. Yeah...not a super comfortable thought process to go through when you're hurting), and sometimes it leads to a soothing acceptance that lets you breathe easier. Most times, its just something that hovers in the back of my mind, a nebulous concept, all hazy and difficult to fully appreciate.

That being said, NO, I don't think I've taken responsibility for my choices. Not in the ways it matters, anyways. The weight I'm at right now? I know exactly how I got here. Fast food breakfasts, and pizza for dinner; coming home from sitting behind a desk all day, just to sit on the couch all night. It's no wonder I'm back to a weight I haven't been at for seven years. I can admit it's my fault. But I haven't taken responsibility for it. I still have fast food breakfasts sometimes - 'oh, it's just this once, I haven't had a McMuffin in a couple weeks, one won't hurt anything' - and I still order pizza when I'm too tired to cook at night. And I still go home to plonk my ass on the couch and curl up into a little ball.

Soccer season has started up again, and now I'm back to working weekends, long long long hours in the sun standing and shouting and constantly moving. It's only been a few months since my last shoot, and yet I'm still sore as hell today after two days of shooting. My leg muscles are complaining, my back is killing me, and my feet think they deserve a vacation. I'm exhausted. But...it's that good kind of exhaustion. I came home Saturday with this intense desire to go out. Go to a club, the beach, a bar, anything to keep moving. Sunday, not so much, but I think that was because the shoot was a hard one this time around. Still, I have that delicious soreness that comes from knowing I earned it. Every aching muscle means I moved, and lived in the moment. I made the choice to get up and get going, and I felt great afterwards. Its actually the number two reason I decided to take the job. So it'd get me up and off the couch on the weekends, moving about and enjoying the sun. Probably one of the smartest decisions I've made in a while.

Now that my major events for the year have reached a conclusion, it's time for me to start saving money again, and get my expenses back in order. There's things I need to get done (work on the car, the gym membership) and experiences I want to have (that well earned soreness) so I need to buckle down. I need to make the choice and take responsibility for my life. Because that's what it is. My life. My choice. My....everything.