So, I’ve lost track of the weeks. Whoops.
I was on a really great streak, though. It was really great for me to do it, though. I was accountable to everyone who reads this, or, at least, it felt like it. I’m still losing weight, though. Hooray!
The truth is, I’m struggling to write about this summer. I always preferred winter anyways, but this summer is a brutal reminder of what happened last summer. I struggle with the idea of telling the full truth here – what’s worse, telling the harsh truth about why you’re struggling to focus on the goals you’ve set, or be silent and appear to have given up? I feel like I give up far too often, but that harsh truth…. yeesh. Yeesh. I never understood how someone can have big heavy secrets until last year – and now I have secrets that I’ll never tell anyone.
I’d like to think that the harsh truth can be forgotten, one day. The tears and the alcohol and the begging and the crushing depression – maybe that will go away. I think I’m on the best path I’ve been on in years… but that has been sticking in my mind. Those broken pieces, those secrets, that crushing blackness – I’m so afraid that it will happen again.
However, in an effort to show my dedication to my goals and avoid that harsh truth, I’d like to write about my vacation. The first real runaway I’ve had since 2013. I’ve had time off, but it was plagued by depression, anxiety, and all the fun that comes with those bastards. So, this year, I decided to take time off, properly. To enjoy my volunteer gig at Edmonton Folk Music Fest, to dance all night, and then to camp in the Shuswap with a group of amazing humans. I started volunteering on Wednesday evening, and this is what my Folk Fest did for my FitBit.
- Wednesday – 14,784
- Thursday – 21,117
- Friday – 14,161
- Saturday- 28,426
- Sunday- 18,052
- Monday- 10,228
For anyone who doesn’t want to do the math, that’s 106,768 steps in 6 days. It wasn’t all walking – I did lots of dancing, lots of wandering. I (with the help of my astounding parents) meal prepped for my camping trip, and I was on my way on Monday evening (only part way, though. I though I’d be able to drive to the Shuswap on Monday, but HOLY MAN I needed sleep).
I derailed in the Shuswap. We had a great time – lots of swimming, lots of walking, lots of games, lots of laughs – and my diet fell off my mind. I had all kinds of other things to think on, and I feel relatively OK that I fell. I still lost weight that week (I think I can blame the one truly horrific hangover for that), but now, I’m struggling to get back on the horse. Or should I say treadmill? I’m struggling to get back into my routine, back onto my treadmill. And now I’m back at work, working even earlier than usual for a few weeks, and it’s been a tough two days. And maybe I’m being a wimp or maybe I’m over tired, or maybe it’s the anxiety and sheer panic that hit me two days before my vacation ended, but it hasn’t been a good two days. It’s been a sad and stressful two days, and now, I’m back to the edge of panic.
I know that a lunch time walk would feel AMAZING. I know that I need groceries in order to keep up meal planning. I also know that my get up and go… just got up and left. Once I’m back into the routine, I’ll likely sleep better and will likely stop worrying so much (insert audience laughter here). But getting there? Oh man. SO MUCH HARDER THAN I WAS EXPECTING.
Anyone out there have any tips? How do you get back onto the treadmill?