New Jeans

The jeans I own no longer fit.  Yup.  You heard me.  Not the I-ate-a-little-too-much-this-weekend kind of snug.  They simply don't fit.  What the f**k?  As my friend, Brooke, jokingly reminded me, I don't leave a great margin for error in how I wear them, and I won't deny that.  But nevertheless, without workouts, I cannot get into any of the pairs in my closet.  So I had a choice.  I could will them to fit.  Ha!  I could keep trying them on and feeling badly about myself.  I could buy baggy tops to disguise the reality of the moment.  Or I could take a deep breath, acknowledge that it feels bad right now that I cannot maintain my figure as I would like until my health allows it, and buy something that fits and so I can feel good getting dressed to walk out into the world.  So I had a bit of a whine and pulled the trigger.  

Is there a bright side?  Well, I didn't die.  There is no scarlet A on my chest.  I am no longer uncomfortable when I get dressed to go out.  Nobody else in the world has any idea which jeans I am wearing anyway.  And guess what?  They don't care.  I still get the same reception from my friends when I arrive at the restaurant.  I am learning...slowly.  

Show Up and Be Seen

I love Brené Brown.  She is a PhD research professor that has spent the last decade studying vulnerability, courage, worthiness and shame.  She did a TedTV talk that is a favorite of mine if you are interested. Brené Brown on Vulnerability
Well worth 20 minutes of your time, in my opinion.  

Among other things, Brené discusses vulnerability and how necessary it is if you want to live an authentic life and find true connection.  I talk a lot about wanting to lead an authentic life, but I recently have found myself covering how I really feel, both with myself and others, because I felt shame about the emotions I was having.  It "shouldn't" bother me so much that I can't work out.  I "shouldn't" be so worried about what I will look like if I don't.  I "shoudn't"...

Shame is a powerful thing.  It can rob us of the ability to have compassion towards ourselves.  At least it does for me.  I like to think I have compassion for others, but when it comes to myself...not so much.  

Then a friend posted this...

In a very palm-to-forehead kind of moment, I thought...of course.  Being willing to vulnerable allows for a deeper connection.  And I want that.  So this blog is the embodiment of the courage to be imperfect.  And yes, it feels a little like I am naked in public ;-)

Wild and unexpected ride

Growing up I was sold a bill of goods.  Life is a straight, paved road and if you do what you are "supposed" to do and work hard and keep your head down, it will be good, safe, happy.  Ha!  I now know that the road is winding and bumpy and the surface underneath me is often unpredictable.  Much of that realization began when my marriage broke up. And from that I have learned to embrace the unexpected nature of life.  To love it.  I have learned I want to keep my head up, face turned to the sun.  I want to skip sometimes, run sometimes and sit and ponder which fork to take. 



But then there are the detours...

This one caught me WAY off guard.  It knocked me off my center.  I have been questioning where I find value in myself...in who I am and how I feel about myself.  Could it possibly be so delicately entwined with my ability to exercise and with the way I look?  Lots to explore.  It's gonna be a yet another wild ride that's for damn sure.  

The Detour

On February 14th as I returned home after work, I slipped on black ice and fell.  Hard.  I lay there doing an inventory and realized I was in tact, more or less, and thought to myself that I should have accepted that invitation to extend my vacation in Florida for a few days. Yes, I should have.  

I had a concussion.  Being the product of a mother who's only question when we got hurt as children was "Are you gonna live?" I was sure I would be fine. A little shaken up, yes.  A little nausea, sure.  A headache, well that is only to be expected.  

4 days later I got yelled at by my chiropractor and at least a half dozen friends to "stop being macho" and SLOW DOWN.  I was appropriately scared that if I didn't I would surely do further damage to the only brain I have.  It was as if I was given permission to feel the effects of the fall, and the head injury.  Much bigger headache.  Foggy brain.  Trouble concentrating.  Physical exercise made it all worse.  So 2 weeks off.  What?  Ok, I can do that.  

I proceeded to figure out the date when I could start workouts again and was sure that I could make up for lost time.  After all, 2 weeks is not an eternity, right?

Not so fast. 2 weeks had gone by and I was excited to get to the gym and sweat.  A little...since I am easing back in.  First workout did not go well.  Now I am really worried. Finally I will make an appointment with the neurologist.  Only he cannot see me for 2 more weeks.  I will take it easy until then.  Continue working but no exercise.  

Fast forward...waiting to see the neurologist I am getting anxious it is something more serious.  Otherwise, I would be fine by now, right?  Apparently not.  According to the doc, some people heal in a couple weeks, others it takes a few months.  So, work if you can. Continue to limit activity.  Maybe some light walking.  

It has now been 5+ weeks of no workouts.  Talk about a detour.