Fitness is more than meets the eye
My husband recently built us (ahem, more me) an office. It isn't anything fancy and it isn't that big; but, I happen to think we have made it quite beautiful. My husband built me a white wrap-around desk. There’s a big cupboard a-la-Ikea hanging on one side, and every accessory has been sprayed gold, thanks to a vision created via Pinterest. My degree hangs on the wall in a (you guessed it) gold frame. At the end of the room overlooking the desk is the most perfect little window. This window was my husband’s idea during construction: at the time I didn’t give it much thought, but now I am quite grateful for his little stroke of forward-thinking genius. I won’t be covering my little window with any curtains or shutter; it’s perfect the way it is. It lets in enough sunshine to light the whole room. I can open it if I need to let in a breeze. It's the perfect little window to stare out of and collect my thoughts. It's been three weeks since my surgery. I have been through surgery before and because I know my healing patterns, I was able to warn those that are closest to me and love me of the inevitable mental crash I have come to know and hate. Like everyone, I have personal doubts. I experience anxiety, stress, and worry in regards to every aspect of my life. When I am healthy and active I am able to safely navigate my way with endorphins and coffee. Why? Because being active while lifting weights and running out doors isn't just for physical appearances or health, and the well-being of my whole self. It is my mental therapy.
I am not on medication. I am not seeing a doctor, and I have no intention to. I strongly believe that I am not the only person in this world who has moments of weakness, such as this. I do understand that much of my worry and stress are personally inflicted. I’ve tried talking with family and friends: no one seems to understand. I can’t blame them; I know they’re just trying to help. What doesn’t help, though, is listing off all the wonderful things they think of me. I feel bad they have to watch me cry. I feel guilty they have to hear my pity party. I feel I need to stop saying “I feel!” Sometimes, I just need someone to listen. Listen without judgement. Listen without trying to solve the problem. Sometimes, what I need is someone to say it’s ok to cry. And, sometimes, I just need to be left alone to move. When I am forced to maintain a low level of physical activity, alongside the physical pain and discomfort of healing, I have been known to fall down a rabbit hole of self-loathing that would give the Grinch a run for his money. When I’m down, I don’t like me. I have a list a mile long of the things from inside to out that I would fix. When I’m down, each item on that list feels like weight on my chest dragging me down. But, as I have every time, I know I will eventually put myself back together, piece by piece, as I return to regular activity.
On this site I don’t pretend to be anything I am not. I don’t come on here to sell some weight-loss product. I don't write on here to sign someone up for a fitness challenge, or tell you there is one-size-fits-all way to a healthy lifestyle with 'your dream body.' I share my thoughts and experiences in hopes that I just might give someone the push they need to make a change, or to keep going. I try not to sugar coat life. I try not to give off false impressions. And, I certainly don’t try to say I’m perfect; for, perfect I am most certainly not. Being active is a form of therapy for me. During that time, I can take out my mental aches and pains while moving my body. It is my anti-depressant. It’s easy to get down on yourself. It’s easy to feel weak and give in. What’s not easy is to talk about it, and eventually build yourself back up. That's why I exercise and move.
These feelings I am having are not new to me. I knew I would start to feel this way, even before I went in for surgery. I knew my sadness would find me, amidst panic attacks and night sweats. It isn't easy. It often leads me to find little areas of sanctuary such as my spot in front of the window: little spots that remind me this is only for a short time. When the time comes that I am able to return to the activities I love, I will. I will take it slow. With each step or rep I will feel this weight lift off of me once more. It won't be done in search of physical perfection or size, but in persuit of balance. I will share that journey, too, because its the journey of coming back from the fall that may be the helping hand someone else needs to step out of that same dark place. We all need to find the things that gets us standing on our two feet.