Week 5 – so much for weekly updates

Well.

The road to hell, and all that jazz.

It’s week 5. I’ve been steadily losing, minus one really weird week that I will account to a monthly bloat. I went up 9 pounds (WTAF) and then dropped to my lowest weight yet. Boom. Low 170s. I’m a babe.

My January and February so far has been a lot of remembering. I have been struggling to meal plan and prep, but I’m getting better every week. I have said this before – but prepping healthy and delicious meals for one person SUCKS. I get sick of what I make easily, so I’m trying for variety and delicious. This week was the best one – raspberry, salami, and feta spinach salads, and roasted sweet potato, apple and feta spinach salads. I had smoothies and egg sandwiches for breakfast, and snack consisted of fruit, snack bars, and yoghurt. Simple but delicious, and lots of choices. This week felt good.

Exercise has also been good. I signed up for my friend AR’s weekly spin class. AR and I used to run together (and by together, I mean that we’d chat before our runs, because even in my wildest dreams I likely couldn’t keep up with her). But, a year or two ago I confided that I was sad that I wasn’t able to run any longer, and now we work out before our beer visits. Whether it’s yoga or spin, we move together. So when I say “it’s my goal to ride one of those core bikes”, I know that she’ll have me on one. And I did this week – it was a bit of a stretch for me, but it felt GREAT afterwards. I feel super lucky to have a friend like AR.

I’ve also been at the gym at my work almost every day. My go to is walking – I can walk over 3KM in 40 minutes. I love walking – it’s as close to running I’ll likely ever be again. Also, confession – I don’t like figuring out the machines, plus I’m a creature of routine, so I like the treadmills. That, however, is changing.

Because I signed up for, and started working with, a personal trainer. And she has told me that I’m not going to be walking anymore. Because I’ve also told HER that I want to push myself. I am regretting that a little today, though. Yesterday was our first REAL session together, and I was feeling like a babe before the session. Wednesday, I wore my old running pants to spin. They had stopped fitting about 2 years ago – and they fit amazingly on Wednesday. On Friday, I was able to bust out a pair of jeans that make me look and feel amazing. To say I was feeling like a babe is an UNDERSTATEMENT. And then I went to the gym.

You guys, I was so ashamed. I almost cried in the gym I was so embarrassed. It was an easy ish routine (even now, replaying it in my mind, it seems easy) but I am so so weak. My arms were shaking as I moved the weights, and my balance was off. I struggling to finish, my legs were wobbling. I am so ashamed that I’m so weak. I have neglected myself so much that I struggled with every single movement – and today my body is ACHING. My shoulders and legs especially. Even putting on my awesome jeans after the workout didn’t make me feel better. I felt sad. And fat. Which, as I’ve already discovered, makes me want to eat. That makes me feel infinitely worse.

This is the defining moment, though. I know that, in my heart of hearts, I have two choices. I can give up because of my shame – I can go back to what I know, and what I am comfortable with – or I can choose to move forward through the discomfort to be better.

It’s the second month of 2018, and this is the second time I’ve made this choice. I went to a meditation workshop in January, and during an affirmation session, I started to cry. The session leader was talking to us about the teaching of Louise Hay, and I couldn’t repeat these affirmations – all positive statements that I want to believe about myself. The words we were speaking are my deepest fear about myself, the thing that keeps me awake at night and prickly during the day. As I was struggling to speak, my tears were flowing down my face. My heart felt like it was being shattered open. Even thinking about it – I have tears in my eyes. And maybe on my cheeks.

There are only two real choices as I move forward with this journey. I can choose easy. I can choose to move forward with my hard shell and soft body – I can ignore that my joints ache, and that my heart breaks (and I cry) every time I try to speak about my deep fear. Or I can choose discomfort – I can choose to continue to show up for myself, to look at myself in the mirror and acknowledge that it’s hard and that it hurts, but moving forward is the only way to go.

This is my choice. This discomfort and vulnerability is my choice. I will continue to make this my choice, even as my heart heals and my body gets stronger. I choose discomfort over easy.

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