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Therapy: On Feeling Better

25 May

My latest therapy session was a good one. We spent a lot of time talking about simply wanting to feel better and using that as motivation rather than relying on a number on the scale or the size of my pants to dictate my mood.

I’m feeling all of my 42 years plus about 10 more these days. I shouldn’t struggle so much to get up off my kid’s floor, be winded after climbing a few stairs, or be so stiff that I have to literally roll off the bed and hobble to the bathroom because my joints haven’t “warmed up” yet.

Realistically, the goal of having a taut, lean body are long gone. I’ve lowered my standards and they are twofold.

1. Feel better physically overall.

2. Belly less protruding than boobs.

That’s legit it, and I really don’t think this is unachievable. Until I actually try to do it. I sounds like the cliched broken record here but, do you know what I had for dinner tonight? Leftover pizza and raw cookie dough. I KNOW that is not going to make me feel better physically and yet I do it again and again and again. Which tells me that this is more of a mental struggle than anything. Conquer the mind and you conquer the body, right? So how does one do that? I have zero clue and thus the cycle continues.

Dr. B and I talked about just focusing on doing fun things that I enjoy and that are active. Indoor rock climbing and cycling came to mind. I’ve done both and enjoy them, as much as I’m going to enjoy any physical activity. A further stretch is getting back into a dance class – maybe belly dancing even. I mean, I already have the belly so I figure I have a head start on that one.

I dunno. I tend to think that I should have this figured out by now and I feel really dumb for still struggling with this stuff at my age. I’m trying to ward off an impending funk but all I can think about as I stuff junk food in my face is how I’m getting fatter and fatter. Which carries over into my confidence in other areas and down the rabbit hole we go. Maybe there will be pie at the bottom.

Photo by Bekir Dönmez on Unsplash

the place

12 Feb

Sometimes you’re in the middle of folding laundry and are watching Abstract: The Art of Design on Netflix at the same time and thinking about how you’ve been in this really weird frustrating place for the past several days. It’s a place you find yourself over and over again, probably once every couple of months at a minimum. It’s restlessness to the extreme, but restlessness that causes stagnation. You have so many things you want to do and creative ways you want to spend your time that it overwhelms and you shut down because you don’t know where to go with it and you have so many other “real life” things that have to get done so those other things take a backseat yet again and this whole process just causes angst and irritation and well, stagnation. How can I be both/all things? I don’t have time for everything I want. Then I freak out and write in both first and third person on the blog I’ve neglected but love and frantically text my like-minded friends to vent. And then I go back to laundry and cubicle nation work. Because that’s what makes the suburban life go ’round, right? That’s what pays the bills and the health insurance, not my random ideas and creative bursts of whatever it is I do in my head but rarely do in reality. I’m having a moment of overwhelming-ness and tears and anger and panic over all of it. Is it a time management issue? Because even great artists and writers and creative people have kids and mundane responsibilities to handle. Maybe they don’t have the cubicle-nation job that stifles them until they can’t breathe, but some do. So how do they do it? There’s a sense of desperation in me right now that is suffocating. #franticwordvomit

self care

14 Feb

One thing each day that makes me feel good and is good for me. I mean, a box of Little Debbie’s makes me feel good for a minute but I suppose that is unfortunately out of the realm of self care.

Today was early morning meditation. My mind was in epic form, wandering all over the place but that’s kind of the point; to constantly bring it back again and again*. With practice, this gets easier. Consistency is my nemesis in all things but today, this one time, I won.

*semicolons are a mystery to me. I stuck one there because it felt right. So there.

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