Isn't it ironic how time can move both quickly and glacially at the same time? Consider the conference call that just won't end at work; the time spent thumbing through a collection of germ-infested decade old magazines while you wait for your health-care practitioner to call your name; or the meeting you have with the guy who does your taxes as examples of the latter. On the former, it's how you seem to blink and suddenly you're a year older; the way that the dirty laundry seems to reproduce while you're not watching; and the sense that no matter how hard you try, you'll never have enough time to do it all.
It's Valentine's Day, which means that February is half gone and March is just around the corner. Apparently, 2/3 of us have already abandoned our New Year's resolutions and are either wallowing in a pool of guilt and shame or are celebrating that we can now eat gluten or carbs or sit on the couch watching television with our mouths hanging open with reckless abandonment. But . . . 33.33333% of us are sticking to our guns. We're still in the game. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to count myself among the fighters since I publicly eschewed resolutions in favor of an annual anthem, but since I feel like a winner, I'm going to count myself in these statistics.
Yesterday was my first official paid day off in 2015, and since old habits die hard, I had this incredible list of "shoulds" concocted to fill up the hours I'd normally spend at the office. I'd go to the credit union; I'd complete a required financial transaction; I'd go to the gym; I'd clean the house; I'd pick up groceries; I'd walk the dog; I'd do laundry; I'd go to the gym . . . You know what? All I wanted to do was take a nap. So, after a trip to the credit union and a required financial transaction (the whole reason I took the day off), I came home, had a snack, and napped like a baby. If my dog hadn't been so offended by a garbage truck traveling down the street – he expresses his displeasure through a series of painfully loud barks – I might be sleeping still.
So, here's my Valentine's Day progress report:
Give Up: Maybe it's just me, but I harbor a vague sense of guilt when I take time to do things for myself. I feel like I should be busy saving the world or at least making sure my household has clean underwear and a well-stocked refrigerator. Perhaps I'm imagining the conversations I'll have at the office on Monday when people ask how I spent my day off. Will I be ashamed that I spent a good portion of the day in bed? Perhaps, but why? My colleagues don't care how I spent my day off. They're being polite and making small talk – and I bet that each of them secretly wishes they were napping anyway.
I've tried to give up the shoulding all over myself, but 40 years of bad habits don't change overnight. It's a process. So, instead, I am giving up on feeling guilty for taking care of myself. If I don't, who will? Besides, there are fewer greater pleasures in life than snuggling in your warm bed with a fluffy cat and a big furry dog.
Give In: Oh, was I a crankypants this week! I don't know if it was sleep deprivation, stress, or just general witchiness, but I was unpleasant to the core. I was the kind of horrible that feels like an out-of-body experience – where you can actually see yourself being a crazy bitch but you can't do anything to stop it. Innocent people tried to ask me questions and instead of answers, they received vitriol. So much vitriol.
Sometimes, I'm not nice. And when I'm feeling horrible, it usually means that I'm failing in some other aspect of my life. In this case, as I gave in to my inner bitch, I realized I was neglecting my self-care. And apparently, when I am not fed, watered, and rested appropriately, I become hazardous to your health. You've been warned.
Giving it All I've Got: I still haven't missed a single workout date with Big Bad Trainer . . . which may not sound like a real accomplishment, but I assure you, it is. I normally train twice a week after work – which means that I've been up and at 'em in some way, shape, or form for at least 11 hours before I head to the gym. There are days when I'm so tired that I don't even want to walk from my desk to my car, much less participate in whatever heavy lifting antics Big Bad Trainer may have up his sleeve. Wednesday was one of those days and I debated whether or not it would be okay to miss my workout – until I realized that I'd have to confess my sloth to one of the four people who read my blog and it was that shame that propelled me through my workout.
I'm on a 46 day streak on MyFitnessPal, even though there was an incident with some peanut butter M&Ms that I'd rather not discuss. MyFitnessPal knows all about it, and provided the appropriate level of fat and sugar shaming already. I haven't been on the scale in February yet, since I'm still reeling from seeing those very large numbers the scale reflected back at me in January. I suspect we're in a holding pattern. Or worse. But what I don't know is unlikely to cause me to fling my iPhone or my expensive scale out the window. Besides, it's really cold out and we probably can't afford a new window.
I'm continuing my Thrive Eight Week Experience. Since I refuse to get on the scale, I can't really provide any insights on whether or how well this is working, but I have not missed a day of vitamins and protein shakes. Since I'm not promoting, selling, or making any money from this experience, my assessment is likely the most honest you'll find. I have some more energy and I am less prone to snack attacks, so it's doing something. Is that worth the price tag? Unclear until I know whether or not we are seeing any results on the scale I'm terrified to stand on.
I'm still trying to figure out my purpose in this life. After being rejected for several volunteer positions, I received a call recently inviting me to interview for a role on the city's human services committee. My 15 minute interview is on Tuesday evening, and I've already explained to my husband that if they reject me, we will obviously sell our house and leave the city immediately. (He is less convinced.) Since its inception, the city's human services fund has allocated over $1.4 million to community agencies. This year, they will allocate almost $50k to organizations like Second Harvest Heartland; the YMCA; PRISM food shelf; and others. I'm studying for my interview! Wish me luck – I can't handle being rejected for yet another unpaid position. There is a fine line between humbling and humiliating, and I don't think we need to cross it.
And – thanks to the guy in my basement, who is a lovely person and a frequent volunteer – I have been invited to volunteer at the Marie Sandvik Center tomorrow. I think it is important to be of service to others for so many reasons – frankly, it's an entirely new blog – but most of all, I think we can all benefit from changing the channel in our own heads from the "all me, all the time" show to the "focus on someone else" hour.
Last but not least, there is my writing. While I don't update this blog on any kind of planned or predictable schedule, under the guise that would be awfully close to shoulding on myself, I am writing. I don't know if writing is my hobby, my therapy, or something else but I do know that when I write, I feel better than when I don't – so giving it all I've got seems like a good choice.
Although it's the kind of cold that even polar bears complain about outside, the sun is shining, and I've banished should from my vocabulary for the day. We'll see what happens – and tomorrow is a new day to tackle that which doesn't get done today.
© 2015 Princess D
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