Ugh. Just … ugh.
This morning in my email was a huffy-puffy-fluffy motivational sermon-istic email about what it takes to be healthy and fit. Buff, even.
And it depresses the living daylights out of me and reminds me again why I should not be reading fitness professionals’ blogs, emails, facebook posts. Those people mean well and really want to make a good living restructuring people’s bodies and minds. But I have to remember first and foremost: they are not talking to or about me.
I don’t have goals for good reason: the stress of failure. Rather than being energized by how much closer I am with every pound of weight lifted, I fret about the days (like today) where I did not catapult myself out of bed, shower, dress, Vitamix my protein shake, and dash out the door to get my workout done. Or obsess about the 0.2 lbs. the scale says I retained from yesterday and what it all means. Or carefully weigh everything from the protein powder I mix before the gym to the leaves of lettuce in my big ass salad tonight. For goodness sakes – it’s freaking LETTUCE, one step above water but with nutrients.
But I become mired down in the weeds and the minutia of details. I seem to set myself up to fail in a big giant ball of frustration that ends with a pint of Baskin Robbins chocolate chip mint ice cream.
So I prefer to avoid setting results-oriented goals. If anything, I set simple goals for the next 24 hours – like get up, shower, dress, consume protein shake, and ass in the gym with at least 90 minutes before I have to enter into the fray of getting ready for work and the rest of my day. Most of the time, anymore, I am successful. Days like today, where I half plan to call for a rest day. Except not really, because I’ll be in the gym this evening with friend K and doing something for a set amount of time.
But I have been mulling motivation lately. With work-related changes underfoot and new challenges ahead, do I even feel much like working and pushing ahead toward my good intentions these days? Then again, what does it matter if I feel like it or not? Hyper-responsible self will not let me get too lazy or too slack too much. A little, for sure, but not that much.
I had not intended to sound like all that ails me is related to my piss-poor attitude about the better health process, but in my head, it’s coming across that way. Weenie-whining because I don’t get to be gym-free and eat whatever I want whenever I want – oh woe is me. Yeah right – me and my first world problems again.
My food-related battles are never ending. Understanding it’s not what I am eating so much as how much and how frequently is not translating into improving those impulses. Stress is off the charts right now. Even if I look calm and relaxed on the outside, on the inside it’s hair-on-fire panic because the entire world is teetering on its bitter end and I am the only one aware enough to make it stop.
Yeah, me and my delusions of grandeur again as well.
The feels I have right now about my better health quest are circling around burnout, for lack of a more descriptive, all-encompassing term. Much of the time life soldiers onward. Get up, go to the gym, strive for healthy balance in eating, work really hard at work-work, have some fun, enjoy some me time. Seek balance between responsibility to good citizenry in my personal community and selfish pursuits of my wants and whims.
June has been a month of imbalance, with uncertainty and emotions running high all around me throughout the work day and beyond. Family and tribe are mostly well and thriving, a few friends facing milestones in life that come with aging, faltering health or injury, circle of life type changes. I recognize and value the good things in my life that keep me grounded and stable: my relationship with M, work that keeps me engaged and financially afloat, grown children who are pursuing their own hopes and dreams and thriving as well. I also desire to be a good friend and tribe citizen and help others whenever and wherever I am able. Unfortunately, sometimes personal stability is not enough to keep me from being mightily buffeted by outside forces, and even the most resilient among us has to make allowances for life’s turbulence, floods, tsunamis.
I feel deflated from the month’s events, as if need of a change of scenery or reordering of the daily schedule. Change of scenery is not on the agenda right, because of other responsibilities we have at home AND it is essentially a holiday weekend. The idea of reordering the daily routine also causes my hand to hover over the panic button. What would I do, what would I change, how does it impact the big picture? At the end of that particular exercise (which takes place routinely every single week on something or another), I recognize that things are fine, the circumstances causing the current level of freaked-out-ness are temporary and will fade, regular programming resumes.
It just does not feel good in the moments.
At the end of this long and rambling post, I feel better. Sometimes just talking about my brand of crazy backs me away from the edge of doing something I may come to regret in the future, like that pint of Baskin Robbins chocolate chip mint ice cream that seems to be in grocery store freezers everywhere these days. I deliberately took the morning off from practice because yesterday I was having elbow pain. Elbow pain! Of all the things I think of that could go wrong and cause me physical issues, elbows would be awfully low on the list of potential suspects. Shoulders, knees, wrists, ankles, even glutes, hamstrings, palms – for sure. But elbows? Not even in the top 5. Anyway, I am following J’s usual recommendation for gym tweaks – 24 to 72 hours to let it pass – after a fashion. I read that and had another sort of anxious panic attack, ala “nooooooo! Don’t make me bench myself for 24 to 72 hours!” Ridiculous, I know. But since I knew I wanted to meet friend K tonight, I prioritized and compromised and skipped out on practice this morning. And voila! No elbow pain as yet today. Then again, not nearly as much mousing either.