Category: struggle

Story

I have posted here and there about the difficulties I had after my mom died a few years ago. It was like I ran straight into a massive, sticky spider web, got woefully tangled, and simply couldn’t fight my way out of it.

What I haven’t written about yet is finally, FINALLY, pulling myself out of that web and slowly getting back onto my feet.

I’m still not quite where I would like to be, but I am getting closer, day by day. And after feeling all but hopeless and almost giving up on myself, it’s a triumph simply to be moving forward again instead of sinking further down.

I know that blogging is a dying art, but it occurred to me that sharing more of my story might actually help someone struggling with the same things. So once I figure out how to put some of this into words, I will be back to do just that.

In a few months, I hope to share a major personal victory. It will help put it into perspective to frame it with the struggles and internal warfare I battled through to get there. Until then, I take each day as it comes, put it the work and the effort required to create change, and I appreciate being here another day to see where this day takes me.

Back to the Journey

Look who’s back! I spent all weekend wracking my brain for a clever, witty, inspiring new title for my blog, but ultimately I decided to fall back on the Stained Glass Butterfly theme. I always thought it was my prettiest blog, and I just love that butterfly. (Gotta give credit to the artist who created it: https://www.behance.net/gallery/4136751/The-Gothic-Butterfly).

So here I am. So what? Well, I am still struggling to get back on my feet. The end of the year did a number on my weight loss and fitness goals. I am not even quite sure why I slipped so hard and so far. Maybe just burned out and tired of the whole process.

I don’t come back with any grand, glorious proclamations of a triumphant comeback, or a list of heartfelt promises or resolutions that won’t make it to the end of the month. I can only come back with the knowledge that what I was doing, stopped working; and without making some changes, I will not find success. And that I am not now, or anytime soon, ready to quit! With that, let’s get back to the journey, shall we?

My Wagon

You know that feeling when you are falling backward, and you fling your arms out and grasp wildly, like frantic windmills, desperately seeking anything and everything to latch onto and break your fall? That is how I have felt the past few weeks.

For some reason, I fell off the wagon right after Thanksgiving. I held it together for the holiday itself, even lost a small bit of weight that week, then burst apart at the seams after that. I keep drifting further and further away from my elusive wagon.

That resulted in the windmilling arms and flinging arms mentioned above. What could I do to motivate myself, relight my spark? I’ll join this challenge, I’ll sign up for that, I’ll promise this.

I am not exactly aiming for a specific weight, though. I weigh in, yes, to monitor my progress (or regression, as the case may be lately), but my ultimate goal is to fit back into a specific pair of jeans in my closet that has been waiting for me for a long time. I figure once those fit comfortably again, I don’t care what the scale says, I am back to my happy weight.

My husband asked me the other day how close I am to my goal. When I asked him why, he said he would honestly be happy if I didn’t lose another ounce. He was quick to add that he wants me to do whatever makes me happy. I had to smile. It’s good to know, while I am wracking my brain how to get back on track with losing weight, that he thinks I look awesome just the way I am.

Back to that quickly disappearing wagon of mine that I fell off weeks ago. I decided a challenge based on weight loss alone will not be very motivating, since my goals also include increasing my fitness and strength, and running a half marathon in 2021. I shifted gears and have decided to hunt for a running challenge instead.

This week, I have back-to-basics goals: logging all my food and drink. Working out at least 30 minutes a day. Drinking more water and easing up on my crack-addict level soda addiction.

The holidays are a tough time to get back on track, but if not now, when?

Grumbling, Mumbling, and Swearing

4800025_0I promised myself I would work out last night, whether I felt like it or not. Well, I most certainly did not feel like it!  In fact, I could think of a million other things I would rather do, including a root canal, but I sucked it up and reluctantly put on my sneakers anyway.

I decided to try a step workout from Les Mills on Demand.  I would love to write a review for you of the workout, but let’s be real, I would have hated any workout I attempted last night.  I didn’t want to do it, I am out of shape, I felt like crap, and I just wanted to go curl up on the couch…with a pizza…and a soda…I mean, is that too much to ask?

I scowled through the entire workout.  I mumbled nasty comments under my breath.  I kept thinking of just quitting, or switching workouts, but I knew that I wasn’t going to be happy with any other workout either.  So I grit my teeth and stuck it out.

I made it through by barking irritated and rude comments at the instructors, who change out every few minutes, because Les Mills workouts seem to operate on a musical-chairs instructor model.  My witty dialogue included yelling “no” every time the instructor enthusiastically asked, “Are you ready?”

No, I wasn’t ready.  I was annoyed, I was uncomfortable, I was angry with myself for getting this out of shape again.  I wanted the hyper-fit instructors to take their high knees over the edge of a live volcano, shove their jumping jacks into intimate places, and chant “march, march, march” in hell, dagnabbit!

But I did it.  My cat curled up on his blanket on a chair and offered moral support while he napped, and I finished the blasted workout.  I experienced the victory of logging a workout on MyFitnessPal, fist-bumped myself, and then collapsed with my water bottle.

It’s going to take a while for me to like working out again.  I will make myself work out tonight, and then tomorrow, and then the next day.  It’s the only way to get where I want to be.  In the meantime, I am sure that grumbling, mumbling, and swearing just burns a few extra calories, right?

Cutting Some Slack

Twice this past week, someone has said to me, “You are too hard on yourself.”  It wasn’t until just now, as I started to write my blog post, that it really sank in.

I was about to write how disappointed I am in myself for this past week.  After setting a goal of hitting it hard and going after a big drop this week, I have not exactly roared into action.  Squeaked, maybe.

I had no idea when I set that goal for myself this week that two people – not one, but two, for crying out loud! – would quit at work, dumping all of their extra work onto me.  I didn’t know that everything I attempted to do this week would require hair-pulling, straining, scratching, clawing, and an uphill struggle.

It’s just been one of those weeks.  Nothing has gone right, everything I’ve touched has fallen apart, and I am worn out, exhausted, and more ready for this weekend than I’ve ever been.  (Just as an example, for your reading amusement, of how my days have been going lately: I stabbed myself rather heartily in the eye yesterday morning with my mascara and could barely see all day.)

All the same, I was strictly holding myself to that goal, cutting myself no slack.  I was about to say how I failed this week, and that there is no hope for much of a loss at all at weigh-in tomorrow.

But wait just a damn minute!  With such a stressful week, it would have been very easy to justify pigging out, comfort-eating, curling up in a ball and passing out on the couch, whimpering softly to myself.  Instead, I worked out each day this week.  Okay, my eating may not have been award-winning, but it could have been a LOT worse.

So it wasn’t my best performance this week.  Under a lot of strain and aggravation, I didn’t give up.  I didn’t throw in the towel and decide to just start over on Monday, which is what I would have done just a few months ago.

I will still likely be disappointed at weigh-in tomorrow morning.  That’s the price of being a Type-A perfectionist.  But after the scale is put away, I already plan to have a good weekend with my husband and kids, relax, play, laugh, recharge my batteries, and be good to myself.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started