I’ve had a few observations this week that have made me question some things about myself and the fluidity of mood. I trust that we never know happiness if we never know sadness. And although I tend to fall on the sunny side of things and constantly see silver linings, I am not immune to bouts of full on Eeyore, or a few days of stuffing my face in heavy contemplation and general self sabotage.
For one, never have I ever wanted a treadmill as badly as I have this week. I mean I say that as though I think having a treadmill this week would have kept me to my training program; with this heavy and thick spring snow we’ve received. Because the reality is that I’ve had ample time to run before the snow happens or after it settles, and certainly no reason not to be in my home gym, but for some reason, despite having had a pretty stellar 12 weeks (11 currently) of a two part Marathon training program, this week I fell off the wagon going 50 miles an hour, and took a jar of peanut butter with me.
I ran Sunday and lifted Monday and then entered sloth mode with abandon! I finished a book; and read another. I ate questionable amounts of food that were not even remotely related to being actually hungry. I stayed up too late and slept poorly. So, fun times, and defiantly letting the bad habit side of me hold the reins for the last few days. I mean, whatever, I know that my fitness won’t suffer (much) and that I never spiral into this bottomless pit of “what else can I eat” and “I don’t feel like working out” for very long, but what the hell!? Maybe it was the snow and maybe it was the end of the training block burnout.
On that note, I have also realized that I may need adult supervision. As much as I protest to like being alone much of the time (and I do), these past couple weeks of getting used to my boyfriend being away during the week for work, have shown me that he keeps me in line! When he’s home I go to bed at like 9pm and that perfectly suits my 5-6am-ish natural wakeup cycle. I don’t feast on endless almond butter rice cakes and search for just one more piece of cheese when he is around. I mean, sometimes I do, but not with the criminally insane vigor that I do solo. I need a witness to stop myself from these old bad habits.
Another thing on my mind this week is my upcoming 44th birthday. My skin is really having a rebellion currently and maybe the breakout is part of my overall burnout and lack of dietary discretion (likely) but what is even happening? I am noticing signs of aging in my face and hair and now I face a birthday with a bunch of zits that tell a story of some internal uproar or hormonal party bus that’s out for a joy ride. And to that effect, I treat a lot of skin in my job and it is seriously always the young ladies with the perfect completion that say they are “battling acne”. It makes me sad for them and question the pressures these young women face, but seriously, that one pimple on your chin is not suffering from horrible acne, Tiffany! Sorry.
I have had much on my mind about my oldest kid moving out, too. He is not only leaving home for the first time, he is moving to a new city and province. While I am so super proud of him for not only finishing up his post-secondary diploma; he also found a job in his field in another city and it’s amazing and exciting. I want him to go. I encourage it! See. Do. Learn. Fail. Triumph. But also, let me have you as a helpless little baby for one more day and kiss that pudgy little face! I feel like being a parent is a test in always loving someone and missing them but wanting them to go and be. A constant longing tied to a desire to see them fly.
I also have noticed a huge need to buy him stuff and set him up and am constantly considering what he needs and what I can do and how much is realistic to give. I curbed myself with a fairly reasonable bin of house wares and plan a couple more things once he’s settled, but how much is part of a need to hold him closer and prove some sort of love? He doesn’t “need” a muffin pan and he literally asked me what a bread pan was, but here…take these bake ware items and silicone spoons and spatulas as a sign of my undying love. Here also is a pizza wheel, fridge magnets, oven mitts and some salt and pepper mills! Love in material form via kitchen things.
Does he know how to do stuff? Has he been properly trained in cleaning and how to make food? What if he never washes his bedding or eats a vegetable ever again!? Ya, I have literally no idea why I am not sleeping well or filling some boredom /lonely cavern with cheese and nut butters…It’s all I can do not to be drunk all week!
I am doing otherwise ok. I have a great Birthday weekend planned and have a nice little trip next weekend, with my daughter to look forward to, and a beautiful Half Marathon to run.
Another contemplation I’ve had to tuck away this week (in my season of despair apparently) is that although I understand that I am the planner and organizer among my friends. That I am the one who messages and makes dates and keeps the relationship connected, it sometimes makes me sad. Overall I don’t care and we are all busy and I never feel rejected and do not hate it enough to play games and pull the immature “If they never call me, I’m never calling them!” card that makes no sense in real life. I sometimes do feel the pang of seeing that my very best friends actually rarely reach out. Of my 10 main best friends, probably 4 are good at contact. 2 are hard to even get a text back from! It’s not insulting until it is. It’s not hurtful until it is. And I don’t care, until I do. It is just one of those things that I guess you decide that you are okay with and willing to be the one to do the poking and hold no grudges over.
I guess that in times of low hanging, turning 44, breaking out, deep snow in April, MY BABY IS LEAVING, I am a sloth who apparently doesn’t exercise or eat vegetables; one lets these things ping around in their heads for a second. But, if I know anything, I know that this too shall pass and that I only ever sit in this puddle for a few days here and there. Yin and Yang.
Periscopecake 