Sunday Reflection

As I sit with my coffee, Cowboy Junkies, and thoughts early this morning, I am not only pondering over just this recent week, but the past two weeks and all of the ups and downs that came with them. My birthday celebration with my husband and friends kicked things off so perfectly, I felt nothing but love and happiness, then last weekend I hurtled into a low quite unlike anything I can recall experiencing. The root of this low was based on something within my professional life, something completely ridiculous and based solely on one person’s unjustified perception – but it impacted me, severely.

Cowboy Junkies

I found myself last Saturday morning curled up into a ball on the couch, near the verge of tears and I couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to leave this place. I was trying to fight off the feelings, but they were so overwhelming. I was genuinely overcome with sadness, and while I had every right to feel this way and then some, it was overtaking me far more than I was comfortable with. I didn’t want to write, I didn’t want to eat, and I definitely did not want to work out. But after several hours of this gloom and doom, I forced myself out into the garage to at least try to muster up the strength to do a bit of weight lifting, because I knew it would help…and help, it did. It didn’t miraculously turn things around, but it did help me turn the corner. It took a few days before I was able to fully shake things off, but by Wednesday of this week, the outlook was much brighter.

I’ll have a large hormonal shift with a side of work stress and a small anxiety, please.

I told my husband that it made me question things about myself – was this the start of some hormonal shift within me now that I’m 42? It’s called perimenopause, right? Is that even a real thing? Or, is it some sort of mild bout of depression, or just something related to the anxiety that I’ve carried with me in my life? I’ll say this, my personal life is incredibly happy and pleasant, and typically my professional one is pretty okay, but it’s not without it’s serious stresses, and I’m not sure if the stress is just starting to finally wear on me, or if it’s one of the above possibilities. Maybe it’s just a combo – I’ll have a large hormonal shift with a side of work stress and a small anxiety, please. Whatever happened, I’m not sure this is something I need to be overly concerned with as it was one bad episode, but it definitely caught my attention.

I’ll make a back alley deal to score some endorphins any day of the week…

So what are my next steps here? Number one, I’m due for my annual visit with the OB/GYN, which is always a party, but a perfect setting to talk about hormones. Side note: I hate hormones. Next up, meditation. I’ve tried to jump on the meditation train in the past to help manage stress, I bought the pillow and found a space where I could zone out and develop my mad meditation skills. But after a week or two, the pillow starts to collect dust and the only time I zone out is when I watch a mind-numbing episode of the Real Housewives flavor of the week. I’m challenging myself to take meditation more seriously as I have this sneaking suspicion that I’m going to need it. Finally, I’m left with exercise. I’ll make a back alley deal to score some endorphins any day of the week – those suckers are worth it, but they don’t always come easily. But hard work pays off, right?

Here’s to hoping that the hormone talk is not yet necessary, and that the rest of my self-prescribed treatment does the trick and keeps things in check. Only a little over a week in and already 42 is hard.

Some worthwhile reads (somewhat) related to this Sunday’s reflections:

Feeling Not Quite Yourself – So, perimenopause might be an actual thing.

10% Happier – A book by Dan Harris that I greatly enjoyed a couple of years ago, and one I plan to revisit.

Oh no, Not You Again – Okay, so totally unrelated to my post above, but a blogger that I’ve grown to love reading, and her latest post took me a bit out of my own head when the mood needed to be lightened up around here. This is a fun and sometimes dirty blog, in a very southern Carrie Bradshaw sort of way.




What the F…ear?

This is going to sound silly, but I am nervous about heading back to my Crossfit gym this morning. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been away from it for quite some time after stepping away to deal with a minor injury and then just never going back other than to the occasional open gym. I was terrified the first time I went, and it scared me nearly every morning after that for a few weeks until I started to finally settle in – but every single time I faced the fear and I left feeling so empowered and proud of myself. I guess I would even liken the feeling to a high of sorts. But here I sit this morning, nervous about stepping back into that space, which I know is really ridiculous.

It is not a matter of being fearless. The fear is sometimes constant, but it’s about moving forward regardless of the fear. Courage means feeling the fear and doing it anyway. -Gillian Anderson

I committed to joining in a partner WOD (Workout of the Day for those who aren’t familiar with the lingo) with my husband this morning, as it’s a special one as a memorial and fundraiser for a dear member who was lost tragically just a few weeks ago. I want to go, I want to show my support, but why on earth am I feeling so much trepidation? I know I’ll have to scale the workout, which is fine, and I know that it’s only 13 minutes of work and it’s with my husband, so what’s the big deal? I wonder sometimes if I have a touch of social anxiety, which seems even more odd given that I am a very social person. But every so often, I feel like I clam up inside when I’m faced with the unknown. It wouldn’t seem like this situation presents too many unknowns, though, so who the F knows what my deal is?

Here is what I do know: I am going, I will face my fear and I’ll leave feeling amazing. So let’s do this.


Dipping My Toe

I’ve been trying for days to figure out how to go about writing this, tinkering with what I’ve wanted to say and if I should even approach it. It’s tough because some personal writing that I did a number of years ago ended up being discovered by some close to me and even though there wasn’t anything hurtful directed at them, it still ended up causing some sour feelings, so I immediately shut it all down. That particular writing venture was a bit more public knowledge, and the person in question was far more internet savvy than I gave them credit for. Big oops. As such, while it’s certainly public and anyone could stumble upon it, I’ve chosen to keep this one a bit more discreet in an effort to keep it from being completely out there. My husband has full knowledge, but he supports and encourages my writing, and knows how much this means to me.

Now, you may be saying to yourself “Why are you worried about sporadic posts with recipes and fitness stuff?” To that I’ll respond that the intent behind this blog is meant to be so much more, I’ve just been working up the courage to put myself back out there, and it isn’t easy after the above noted discovery. It might seem ridiculous to some, but it felt like a violation of privacy, one that I had experienced over and over since I kept a childhood diary. That is a story for another time, but today, I am ready to dip my toe back into the water.

I’m probably known as a worrier to some people. Oh hell, I know I am a worrier. (That’s why my friends call me Whiskers, and if you’ve never seen Will Ferrell’s Harry Caray skit from SNL, you will have no idea what I’m referring to.) It’s always been a problem for me, although I think I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older. Lately, however, there is something that has been weighing very heavily on my mind, and for good reason. Given the struggling health of her husband, I am starting to have to face the thoughts of taking care of my mother. It is something that has crossed my mind in the past, but recently I’m realizing that I may have to deal with this possibility far sooner than I had ever anticipated. Believe me, I hope that this isn’t the case, but recent events have brought all of this to the forefront and my worrying is kicked into high gear. Is she financially prepared for this? Are we financially prepared? Is she emotionally capable of handling this? Am I capable? So many thoughts are stirring through my mind. But, as I write this, I find that I keep leaving the post and moving on to other distractions as I am afraid to put all of my true feelings about what this possibility really means out into the blogging world.

I’ve (barely) dipped my toe, and I’ll leave the plunge for another day.