Exercise As Therapy

I have a lot on my mind, all the time. I’ve never been a person who could just “turn off” – if I’m awake, I’m thinking. And thinking. And then thinking some more.  Of course it’s not always deep thoughts that keep my mind occupied – it’s often random, worrisome, or trivial thoughts that just won’t quit.

These thoughts are commonplace:

“Shit, I forgot to buy toothpaste again.”

“Well if you’re going to drive like a moron, I’m going to pass you.”

“Why is she looking at me like that?”

“If I go to the gym at lunch, I can do the dog park and cook dinner early.”

“Why are some people suck assholes?”

“Am I getting my period?”

“Did he really just say that?”

“Apparently muffin tops are in, based on what I see on the street.”

“Will I ever have sex again?”

One thing that I’ve found to be very helpful is EXERCISE. I find it strange that I always shied away from actually getting a workout in, when it’s really made me feel so good. I’ve found that the 20 – 50 minutes I spend working out every day is quiet time for my brain. Eureka! Whole moments go by without a single thought. I close my eyes and only hear my breathing and my music, and often I don’t remember what I was even listening to. It’s heaven to have a quiet mind, if only for a short time.

Exercise has become my daily therapy. I’ve come to relish those short moments when I don’t have to worry about anything, when no one is asking me for something, and when I’m only responsible for myself and no one else. Those precious moments of total self-commitment are really priceless. By the way, I’m down thirteen pounds since I started this new journey. Therapy is really paying off. 

Wish In One Hand

An acquaintance of mine has a saying, which is, “Wish in one hand and shit in the other. Which one do you think will fill up first?” I think that saying is a great illustration of the reality of wishing versus doing. It’s the whole, “shit or get off of the pot” mentality, that so many of us are lacking. I’ve known a lot of dreamers in my day; people with their heads in the clouds, constantly wishing and hoping, and even praying for the things they want, or don’t have. Interestingly enough, it’s always those people who never achieve their goals. If you sit around and wish into your hand, all you’ll get is an empty hand.

I actually do have a long list of wishes. None of which I’ve never articulated, but will do so now. Hopefully getting these wishes and dreams into print will be a little motivation to make them happen. It’s time to get off the pot, folks.

1. I wish I was thinner.  Duh. You all know this one already. My plan is actually in action right now. I’m exercising, walking with my kiddo, and enjoying life. I’m eating well, and avoiding things I know are not good for me. I am no longer sitting on my duff lamenting the current state of my being. Moving, doing, achieving this wish is liberating.

2. I wish beer didn’t have any calories. OK. This one will never happen, but I think it’s a good wish.

3. I wish I could rollerblade. Seriously – I’m not good. I’m going to practice, though, and get better.

4. I wish people were nicer to each other. I have a friend that is so nice to other people. He starts conversations. He laughs, and makes people feel at ease. He’s a great person to pattern behavior after, when it comes to the greater good. I have decided that to try to make people nicer to each other, I have to be kinder myself. Watch out… hugging might be next.

5. I wish I wasn’t so emotional. On one hand, I love that I’m emotional. I laugh OUT LOUD always. I smile at people I pass, and always tell people what they mean to me and how I feel about them. My problem is, I really, really want people to reciprocate my emotion, and end up being disappointed and disillusioned. I CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE. I vow that in order to achieve this wish, I will give my feelings freely, without thought or expectation of return. This, my friends, is the only clear path.

4. I wish I was a priority in someone’s life. Wow. This is a hard one. I have spent my entire life putting others feelings and wishes ahead of my own. I hope that someday I can find someone who will think of me first. I hope that there is someone out there in this big world that wants to be my partner, my lover, my protector, my caretaker, and my friend. I expect to achieve this wish by being honest, authentic, real, and irreplaceable. It’s a start, right? I’m fully aware that this dream may never come to fruition, but at least I’ll be a better person for the trying.

 So here’s the thing. Can we try to fulfill our wishes together? Share your wishes with me, and I’ll be happy to help, as long as you’re ready to work a little.

The Pursuit of Happiness

I've never really been a happy person. There were days when I can honestly say I was happy (when my son was born leads the pack), but for the most part, I've been a relatively grouchy individual. Negative. Sarcastic. Gloomy some might say.

I was once bound by so many chains. More than I care to count, really. My baggage was large and heavy, and it affected everyone around me. My house became a disaster area, full of clutter and dirt. My office was a misery – and getting up for work every morning a struggle. My son was unhappy and acting out at school, and my father and I barely talked.

My life was a waste of time. My gloom showed in pounds of fat.

But here is what I've come to realize:  If we hug all of the world’s negativity to our chests, we have no room for joy. If we bury our heads in the ground like a cowardly ostrich, we’ll never see the sun. If we let grudges and sadness overwhelm us, we’ll never be able to come up for air. Depression, unhappiness, stress – these are all chains to ground us, hold us down, and keep us from our goals and dreams.

I will longer let negativity, unhappiness, spinelessness, and stress rule my life.

I will ride like the wind on my bike.

I will breathe in the fresh air and soak up the sunshine.

I will dance in the rain.

I will cultivate deeper relationships with people I care about.

I will be kind to all people no matter what the circumstance.

I will finally live my life, not let it live me.

I will do all this, and more, while embracing a healthier lifestyle and loving myself. I think I deserve this life. I hope I can prove it.

My Name Is Erin, and I'm a Food Addict

I have fortunately never been addicted to drugs or alcohol. Maybe I tried a little pot in high school, and had some very blurry nights in my Roaring 20’s, but I’ve never felt compelled to drink or smoke. I’ve never tried any heavy drugs. I was a smoker for several years, but kicked that “habit” by myself.  In fact, if someone told me today that I HAD to give up craft beer or a glass of wine before bed, I really think I could do it quite easily. I wouldn’t like it, but I could do it.

My addiction is food.

In the past, when the going got rough, I turned to food. I’m sure you remember those gloriously flattering posts about me stuffing my face when I was sad, when I was happy, and let’s be honest, when I was feeling just normal. Food was my go-to drug to calm the growing depression inside me – and I was (and am) addicted.

I had already started eating for comfort when I was in my early 20’s. I suffered a devastating break-up, was living alone, hated my job, and was really in a bad place. Late night episodes of carb loading were the norm, and I always felt just a little dirty afterward. When I got divorced, things got just a little worse. I was a single mother, home owner, and sole supporter, and all of a sudden had to do everything for and by myself and my kid.

Then my mom died, and I truly and completely fell under the spell of food.

I ate ALL THE TIME. Pasta, fast food, whole pints of ice cream… and I ate alone, so no one would know. I have gained 100 lbs since my divorce, most of it over the last five years. My addiction is deep, and woven into the very fabric of my life. Because of my addiction, and my weight gain, I had successfully convinced myself that I was unworthy of love (have another chocolate bar), that I would remain alone for the duration of my life (Sausage McMuffin and large Coke), and that I would never achieve happiness (full bowl of pasta). It was OK – I felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy anyway (late night pizza).

Not anymore.

I can happily say that I successfully navigated a wonderfully thrilling and terribly sad weekend without indulging even one time. I ate for fuel, and not for comfort. I ate for enjoyment, and tasted some really nice things, but didn’t overdo it.  I took a major step in breaking my cycle of addiction, and I couldn’t be more pleased.  I don’t have a monkey on my back – it’s a donut as big as my head. And it’s time to throw it off.

I think I’m on the road to becoming addicted to being HAPPY and HEALTHY. I’m no longer interested in being alone, or going another eight (gulp) years without someone in my life. I want to become addicted to love, and sharing my time, not sharing a cinnamon roll. I want to spend as much time as I can with my friends – not eating out, but walking, biking, hiking, and talking. I want to spend QUALITY time with my son, exploring, boating, and running.

I want to become addicted to living. I think I’m on my way.

Adventures in PiYo

I’m sure many of you know my secret – I’m not very brave, but I talk and act a good game. Sometimes this is good; my false bravado pushes me outside of my comfy little box so that I try new things or have great new experiences. Other times, not so good. There have been times when my mouth is writing checks that my body can’t cash.

That’s why it’s always good to know your limitations; to know what you realistically can (and can’t) do. In the past I’ve heard  myself saying, “Oh yeah, I’ll do that Mud Run”, or “I’ll get those rollerblades – it’ll be fun.” Guess what? I should have realized my limitations and SHUT MY MOUTH. Like saying to Jameson last night, “I might even RUN the mile with you at Summerfest.” WTF, Erin. Shut up!

I am in NO WAY implying that the Mud Run wasn’t a huge blast (when it was over), or that I’m not looking forward to getting stronger and more agile so I can make those rollerblades my bitch. But that’s my point exactly – while my mind is strong, my body is still weak. While I may want to do all the great things I commit to (and visualize myself doing), I still need to be mindful of the fact that I just can’t do everything. Yet.

That brings me to Tuesday night, when I attended my first PiYo class, which is a combination of Pilates, Yoga, and stretching. It was hard. I mean, really pretty hard. When people first hear about this class, I think they imagine a serene, relaxing workout, with soft music, easy stretches, and New Age love, light, and flower petals. Well, in some ways, on point: The teacher is excellent, and really knows her stuff. Her explanations and modifications are really easy to follow, and she speaks in a calming voice. The lights are off, the overhead fans are on, and we work on cushy mats.

Then the planks start. Planks! Yikes. And the bouncing. Oh, the bouncing.

The class was hard. I was sweating my butt off, and sore the following day. I felt awfully BIG and AWKWARD for most of the class. BUT I DID IT. The whole class! And while I didn’t do ALL the moves, because of my body limitations, I did a variation of each one, and participated completely.  You see, it’s OK to modify and adjust during any sort of exercise, as long as you don’t quit. I met my limitations, and adjusted. I listened to my body, and cashed the check, folks.

And did the planks.

My Body Is Revolting

I know what you were thinking when you read that title; and, in truth, my body really is a bit revolting to look at (to me anyway). I’m slightly uncomfortable with the thought of anyone else catching sight of it as well. I can’t remember anyone ever referring to my body as a “wonderland”.

As self-deprecating as you think this post will be; however, it’s not the point I’m trying to make, which is: whenever I start to make healthier choices, my body puts up a fuss. It seems that without the steady stream of junk food, my body revolts. It just doesn’t know what to do with vegetables, fruits, and grains. My veins cry out for sludge in the form of a Sausage McMuffin. My pores yearn for French fries. The very core of my being says, “Hey – where did all the grease and fat go?”

This type of diet change brings with it some… uncomfortable side effects. There’s some gas. A little (a lot) of bloating. Stomach distress is common, and bathroom trips triple. Dead sexy, I know. Often, at the end of a long day, I feel like my body is, well, flipping me off.

In truth, it’s very simple. My body is as selfish as I am. It wants pizza, pasta, and ice cream by the boat load, just like I want all the good things in life. When faced with healthy eating choices, this vessel of mine turns up its nose in disgust. But another truth of the matter is (and listen close, my revolting body) that THIS TOO SHALL PASS.

As a lot of us know, there is a period of transition. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still the same clean, sweet smelling, peach of a girl I always was, but I might have to excuse myself just a few more times. Soon my body will accept only the occasional treat, and start to view a ripe, juicy apple as a great alternative to Snickers.

THIS TOO SHALL PASS. I hope.