Anywho, if there is one thing that I've discovered during this summer break, it's that I don't adult well. I'm clearly not meant for this stay at home mom gig. You stay at home moms are like super heroes in my book. How in the heck do you keep up with schedules, especially ones that change 57 times in a week? I feel like all I've done is clean my house for showings, ship my kids to and from camps and ball games, and do my best to get to the pool as often as I can. Being an adult is super stressful. We'll save that for another post.
These past few months, I've been working with a friend who has been trying to help me be more accountable in my fitness/nutrition journey. She's done everything short of kicking my behind into be accountable, and I tell you what. I'm a stubborn ass. I've never met anyone who has self sabotaged their own efforts as much as myself. I'm sure she is so sick of working with me. It wasn't until I stepped on the scale today after many weeks and realized that I had GAINED a pound, that I felt like maybe I'm still not being 100% honest with myself. I've done a piss poor job of being consistent in my workouts. I'm fairly certain that I don't log accurately with my food, and I'm realizing that besides a few reflecting pep talks from my coach and a few to myself, that I've ended these two months coming out more behind than I was ahead. In fact, I may be the only person she coaches that increases in inches when she measures me instead of loses.
So what gives?
Last year at this time, I was a hot mess of sadness. I was swallowed up in the thickest of my depression with no light at the end of the tunnel. I was drowning. I wasn't able to take care of myself or my children properly. I was a crappy friend. A crappy mom. A crappy wife. Worse than that, I didn't know if I cared that I was all those things. Well my tribe was phenomenal. They helped me see the benefits of getting help. They sat with me while I cried. They wrapped blankets around me and hugged me tight. They made me laugh. They took my mind off of my sad. They asked how I was doing. They knew when to talk about it and when to steer clear.
They showed up.
Now you may be wondering why I'm jumping from fitness/exercise to my depression. You may be wondering how in the world they even connect. I've learned that in fact every single part of who you are is connected. We can't extract one piece of anyone's journey and know their entire story. We are all a great many things with a great many pieces that are stitched together to make us whole. Both of these parts of my story are connected in more ways than one.
Last year, the fact that I had gained so much weight (literally) weighed down my soul more than life was already doing. I knew that if I could somehow get back to being active, my endorphins would kick in and I would be in a better place than I currently was, and hopefully, by default, the weight would come back off. It took an entire school year, but I had managed to lose 15 of the pounds that I had gained, and truthfully, even that felt like an accomplishment as this past school year continued to push my anxiety into overdrive. So here we are. Back to summer. Back to more time to think and reflect. Except this year, it feels like I have a little more control. I still get tossed into anxious and depressive episodes weekly, but they come and go a lot quicker. They aren't enveloping my entire being this year.
However, I still can't seem to be consistent when it comes to my health. This is so important to me because I want to have the energy and drive to be a go getter and live my life to the fullest. I don't need an extra load holding me back when depression/anxiety already take their turns beating me up. They don't need any help with that. With that being said, this morning, I couldn't get out of bed to run when my alarm went off at 6:00. So at 9:30, after trying to talk myself out of doing it for the 20th time, I stepped on my scale and was once again disappointed with myself. How many times would I have to feel that disappointment before something changed? Clearly, no one can do this for me. It has to be something I do on my own. By myself.
And then I thought, now wait a minute. I'm a firm believe in the fact that humanity is connected. That we all belong to each other. That being someone's village and being kind are some of the greatest powers that any single person can possess. So even though I need to physically do this on my own, to physically get my butt up and DO something about it instead of TALKING about it, that it's also okay to have a tribe that plays a part in getting you there.
If you are still with me here, you are a trooper. I'm going into stream of consciousness mode. I'm just typing my heart and my brain which is a very scary thing. Bear with me. I'm almost to the punchline. So as I was getting dressed to head out for my run, I thought, what if I served others as a motivation for getting my workouts in? What if every time I worked out, I did it for someone else. Would that push me harder? Would it make me get out of bed to do the job? It was worth a shot! So this morning, I thought of my friend Sheila and my friend Stephanie, and how their husband and dad was going into surgery today to get his foot amputated. I thought of all the pain and suffering he has gone through in the last few weeks physically and emotionally and how his family is mentally preparing to walk this journey with him, and I decided that today I run for Jon. So I did. And as I did it, I prayed for them. It made me think less of me and more about someone else. It felt pretty darn good.
So then I got home and I went to a couple of the fitness groups I'm a part of on Facebook, and I typed this up:
So I've always bought into the idea that humanity is connected. That we all belong to each other. That whole "It takes a village" sentimental crap is right up my alley.