You sure do cry a lot

Lately I’ve been learning a lot about myself…some good, some great, and some down right embarrassing stuff…but I’m using these as opportunities to better myself instead of remaining at a stand still.

One thing that has stood out is that I cry a lot. I mean, I kinda already knew this, but it’s become less about the emotions that others have brought out in me and more so to do with the pressure I put on myself to meet my expectations and the determination to overcome my past.

Case in point…this weekend I celebrated my 39th birthday. I woke up early the morning of my birthday and walked to the beach and watched the sun rise. It was spectacular.

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I stood there watching this amazing sight and I cried. I cried because I’m finally beginning to feel happy in my life. I cried because I had felt so much pain in my past. I cried because I was grateful for my parents who gave me life. I cried because I felt blessed enough to witness mother nature at it’s best.

I then cried when my dad, the best dad in the whole world in my opinion, called me at 10:10 a.m; as he does each year because that’s what time I was born. 

Later, after posing practice with a group of girls in their mid-twenties who appeared muuuuuuch leaner than me, I cried because I felt old and because I was feeling unsure about whether or not I’d be ready for the April 25th show.

I cried again when a sweet, sweet friend gave me a birthday present.

I cried yet again later that night when I tried to fall asleep. No explanation. I just did.

When I woke up the next day, I cried because, again, I felt old. 39 is almost 40. How did I become almost 40? I have nothing to show for all this time on Earth. No children. No husband. No home. What a failure…at least that’s how I felt for a few moments.

I cried later that morning when I went beast mode on my workout…it was SO very, very hard and the tears welled up in my eyes as I fought to hold them back.  I made myself proud of my hard work. The feeling of proving to myself that I was strong and determined was awesome.

Yep, I sure do cry a lot. That’s a ton for just one weekend, and I don’t even have PMS. I could make an excuse for myself and blame the new lower carb diet my coach put me on, but truth be told, I cheated quite a bit this weekend.

I’m not sure how long it will take to overcome this little idiosyncrasy or if it will ever change. I suppose the important part is that I’ve become aware of this and I don’t deny that it’s part of my personality. I don’t want to consider myself an emotional wreak, nor do I want to appear to be a basket case, but maybe I am. And maybe that’s ok. I’d rather feel than to be cold-hearted. It’s who I am, and I should embrace it.

 

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Give credit where credit is due

It is said that we can be our biggest critics and that it is much easier to see the flaws and faults than it is to see what, perhaps, others see. I have always been critical of myself and have, for most of my life, made the choice to sit back and observe other’s successes rather than fail trying to create my own.

If I did try and didn’t live up to my expectations, I would make an excuse as to why I failed. I would think that others were judging me or that I, somehow, let them down by not being better than I was. I would think that I was going to be disliked and not part of the “in-crowd”.

I’ve struggled with this for as long as I can remember and in the past it has prevented me from trying new things or going after what I wanted. I mention this today because this morning I woke up knowing that I was going over to my Crossfit gym to do 15.1. And the anxiety I had was unbearable. I didn’t have anxiety about working out, or having my reps counted by a judge, or the pressure of competing with the Crossfit community…I had anxiety over the fact that I was going to have to do the scaled version.

I fretted and paced and visited the bathroom several times before even heading to the gym. Thoughts raced through my mind of not being good enough, not being strong enough. I kept thinking that everyone was going to judge me as weak and less than.

In reality, I felt comfortable with everything except for the Snatches. The RX weight being 75# and the scaled weight being 55#. So, there I was fretting over 20 pounds. Was this really taking over my mind and body? Why yes, it was. I felt sick. I wanted to do RX so bad because I didn’t want the others to think I was weak.

How totally ridiculous!

In the end I did the scaled WOD and, apparently, I killed it. I was able to complete 4 rounds and 22 reps in the 9 minute allotted time. If I would have attempted to do RX, I probably would have failed at my first round of Snatches and frustrated the hell out of myself… and flat out quit.

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As for the second part of the workout, I had 6 minutes to complete a one rep max Clean and Jerk. I knew that in the past I was able to do 95#, so, although I was not mentally sure I could do it today, that was my goal.

My plates kept getting stuck on the bar when I was trying to switch them out and my loud scream of “FUUUUUUUCK” could probably be heard for miles. And when time was called I leaned up against the wall, cradled my head in my arms and tears of anger filled my eyes. I was only able to do 85#.

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And as I reread that, the word “only” sticks out to me. Here in lies the problem…am I really criticizing the fact that today I could “only” pick up 85 pounds off the ground and throw it over my head? I compared myself to my peers who were lifting over 100 pounds and I got down on myself thinking I was so weak.

I want to turn this around and make it more of motivation to keep trying than a deterrent. At times I want to slap myself across the face to make myself wake up. There are people who can’t even get out of bed or walk out the door to do a workout even remotely close to what I did today. Hell, I was one of those people during the months of October through December of 2014.

Give credit where credit is due.

Sure, I have a long way to go, but I need to stop worrying about not being the best, and just try my best. And when my peers cheer me on and say that I “killed it”, I need to, and want to, believe that I actually did.

Snickers really satisfies?

I’m eating a Snickers. Right now. This very minute. And as I take bite after bite and hear the crunch of my jaw I feel more and more guilty for doing so. I’m so mad at myself. I have no self-control.

I’ve been soooo very good for 10 days…so why ruin my hard work now? Welllll, becccccause…I’m grumpy. I’m cranky. I’m bloated. I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m sore. I’m frustrated. I’m hungry. So, of course, the most sensible thing to do is to eat something full of carbs, salt and sugar. Makes complete sense, doesn’t it?

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Ugh. I regret it. If I’m going to cheat, I’d rather order a pizza and go for it. But, now, after eating that Snickers, I’m even more bloated than I was before I started shoving it in my mouth. Seriously, do my pants even fit right now? And, today was going to be my rest day, but now I think I need to go to the gym despite my sore and overly tired body and mind.

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I guess I have to prepare for days like these. I hardly slept last night. Bad dreams and stress about work kept me up. I trained with two other girls yesterday and I felt weaker and older than them and that does a number on my self-confidence. I got so frustrated this morning that I stood in my closet and started to cry because I felt like a giant, fat elephant. I’ve been beat up at work this week. And I’m beginning to wonder if I actually will see enough of a change in my body to actually succeed in this.

I realize that it’s only been 10 days, but I want results now. I want to be as fit as I think I am. But today I don’t feel like I am…and I don’t think I have what it takes to do this.

Something stinks

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” ~John Lennon

One of my favorite quotes…and oh so true. On January 2nd, my sister was admitted to the hospital to be induced with her first child. The first child in the family…so of course there was a dire need for all immediate family members to stay put in the waiting room until this child was born. All other responsibilities went out the window as we all awaited his arrival. And of course, what does one do when one waits…or is bored…or is anxious? One eats. Crap.

As I munched on cookies, pretzels, and various other unfortunate things, I thought to myself that I was never going to escape the dreadful thing called ‘life’. That in which makes us unable to accomplish our goals. That in which makes us choose one thing over another thing. But, when will I ever get the chance again to welcome the first baby into our family? Never. And so, let them eat cake…and popcorn, and chips, and whatever else the vending machine has to offer.

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During the moments that I first held my nephew, I didn’t once think about stronger quads or defined biceps, or how many bad carbs I had consumed in the past 24 hours. I instead thought of all the possibilities that lay ahead for this little one. How, at that moment, life was perfect for him. If we’re lucky, we come into the world this way…and then ‘life’ happens. So it got me thinking more…

When did I start thinking that I needed to be better?

When did I decide that I had to be perfect?

When did it become ok for me to settle for less?

When did I put aside my priorities to appease others?

It’s so confusing…on one end I want to build a stronger body and prove to myself that I can do this, but on the other hand who really cares? I guess the reason lays in why I’m doing this? And that is what I need to figure out. If the driving force behind this is to be perfect, then I shouldn’t be doing it. Perfection only comes in those first days of existence when we’re all bundled up with a knitted hat on. At this point in my life, I am far from perfect…just like everyone else.

And so today I struggle with spending the precious few hours after work, before the dust hits my eyes and I’m down for the count, at the hospital visiting the only person I know who is perfect at the moment or do I go to the gym, as I planned, and work out for two and a half hours? How do you make a choice like that? Is it selfish if I don’t go? Am I being lazy if I do go? Could I force myself to do both and cut my gym time in half?

Right now I’d just prefer to go home and get in my comfy pjs and sleep until tomorrow morning…but it’s only 2:30 in the afternoon. I can smell avoidance in the air…and it stinks.

The decision to commit

I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions so I won’t call it that. I will call this my decision to commit. In the past I have often said that I would love to see what my body could do, what it was capable of. This has gone on for years, however something has always stood in the way of my success.
When I first made this decision, I intended it to be one of a fitness path, but now as I embark on the journey, I realize that it can be so much more.
Last month I began taking meds to help deal with depression. I’ve been in a very dark place for several months, had given up on myself and lost who I was. Perhaps this new journey that I plan to take will not only bring strength to my body but will also bring strength to my mind.

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Today I plan to go grocery shopping, clean out all the “bad” things in my kitchen, and then eat the hell out of something naughty to say goodbye to old habits. Tomorrow I will welcome the new challenges that I will face and prove to myself that I can do this. Not because it’s a new year, but because it’s time.