Wednesday, March 18, 2015

It's gross.

My competitiveness. It's gross.

I know this, seriously. I'm fully aware of how gross it is, I'm completely cognizant of the fact that it makes me into someone I don't particularly like, and I'm 100% certain of just how yuk it makes me feel. I (frequently) have really bad aches and pains and spend evenings slathered in Icy Hot because I can't ever admit I just can't freaking do something and BY GOD I'M GOING TO DO IT. Even if it hurts.

The other night someone next to me was struggling in an exercise class. To the point that they had to sit down a few times and then they eventually left. I felt bad for them, and I really mean that, but I also felt like...proud of myself that I could do it? Proud is the wrong word, but it's the only thing I can come up with. I don't necessarily think proud is bad in this situation because, well, it's complicated. I have worked hard and things have gotten easier. I've totally been where that person was before, but maybe I was a little proud because I wouldn't have walked out. I would have went on until blood was spurting out of my eyelids and I puked in the bathroom six times but I wouldn't have left that line. 

I think it might be a little bit messed up to be proud of that. 

Scratch that. I know it's messed up. Not just a little bit.

Last night while I was "running" (I'm so freaking slow that I hesitate to call it running) the person running with me told me it's not always an excuse when you are struggling with something. That sometimes it's legitimately something you need to look at and sometimes? It's something really serious. You need to listen to your body and not be a huge freak about it (she did not say the freak part). She might have told me this because I was literally panting and unable to breathe whilst we were running and she was possibly afraid I would have a heart attack and keel over. I have no verification of this but I do know she's a really super nice person. Honestly, I was fine. Okay, my hip really hurt and I think I might be getting a bone spur in my foot and the bulk of the running I did last week was within airports so I was really tired, but seriously. I was fine. I just get out of breath and it scares the crap out of people. Plus my face gets really red and, as my son helpfully pointed out to me one day, I look like I'm going to die.

I'm not.

A few weeks ago in Zumba class I felt like I was going to pass out. It was my fault, seriously. I hadn't had enough food that day and I had a headache and I was existing mostly on caffiene and almost no sleep and I felt shaky and like I might vomit and yet for like three songs I just KEPT GOING. Even though I knew something was wrong and I knew this was a Very Bad Idea. I just kept going. Finally, I was so afraid I was going to puke up my water in front of God and Everybody I finally went to the bathroom and I felt so freaking guilty while I was in there. Vomitting. So guilty. Like, what is wrong with me that I can't just DO THIS TODAY. 

Messed. Up.

I know this is all in my head. I know that I am really super supportive of other people and their weight loss goals and exercise goals, because, well, I know how hard it is. I really do. I try really hard to be positive and supportive of other people, even when they aren't positive and supportive to me, because I freaking get it. Even though I have a long way to go, I get it. I'm not where I used to be. I know how very hard it is to get started. I know how very hard it is to get up and put your shoes on and just take a walk. I know how hard it is to sign up for a class that you aren't sure you can do. I know how hard it is to go somewhere and have someone weigh you and then deal with whatever that number on the scale says. I get all of it and I think it helps me understand other people and their feelings.

I have to get to a point that I can be supportive of myself and actually listen to my own body. I'm not there yet.

The other night I was lamenting the fact that I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, yet still working and needed to get outside for a run. Which I quite honestly did not want to do. My daughter listened to my whining for a few minutes and then said, "Um. You're an adult. You can do whatever you want to do."

So. Yeah. That is one of the benefits of adulthood, right?

My brain has to catch up.

I keep hearing that I can do it. Not to quit. Pain is fear leaving your body. If you quit now, a year from now you'll wish you hadn't or some crap. People tell me that one of my best qualities is that I don't quit. That I never give up. That I keep doing things like turning down the cake EVEN THOUGH I FREAKING LOVE CAKE and marching up and down the trails for miles and miles even when the scale stays exactly the same for like 18 months. That I'm determined, or stubborn, or whatever. I don't think that's a bad thing, necessarily. I don't even think it's a bad thing when someone encourages me not to quit.

I don't want to quit, honestly. I just want to not be exhausted. I want to be able to sit down sometimes and not feel guilty. I want to stop beating myself up for not being perfect.

I don't know how to make this happen. I am struggling.

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