Renewed Optimism

What’s that old line - it’s not about how many times you fall down, it’s about how many times you punch whoever tripped you in the face? Or something?

This fall was rough. Like, one of the roughest. I’m used to sort of falling apart by mid-winter and dragging myself out of the mire in the spring. Between the car accident and the 3 months of lingering viral meningitis effects, it was really starting to feel hopeless there by the end. I guess I’m lucky to have good insurance and doctors willing to send out the thousands of dollars of blood tests that kept ruling out worse and worse diagnosis, as I never had more than a week or so to dwell on the scary possibilities before the test results phone call came in. Still, that felt like an physical and emotional marathon. One which I’d just assume not have to run again.

But I got through it.

Last week was my first week trying to get some activity going again. My arm still hurt, lingering joint nonsense trying to hold me back, but with the all-clear from my doctor I decided to cautiously push through the pain and see if it didn’t help. And it seems to! I’m back on my 3 days a week beginner routine, trying to retrain all these out of shape muscles back to the point where it feels natural to be exercising again, and I’m already feeling a little more sure of myself under the bar. Nutrition plan is back in place and coming along well. I’m getting the funny looks that come with eating tuna directly out of the can, and while it’s not delicious I forgot how much I enjoy being “that guy”. It’s almost empowering to stand out in that way. It absolves me from all potential embarrassment that might come from doing ridiculous things in the name of fitness and nutrition experimentation. I’ll be tossing spare tires around empty tires again in no time.

I’m so encouraged by the immediate effects that come with nailing a fitness and nutrition routine for a week. I’m sleeping better again and suddenly remembering dreams vividly where I wouldn’t before. I’m much more upbeat, much more positive, about things going on around me. Most importantly, though, I feel like I can engage with people around me again. That probably deserves some explanation.

After years of working through my own personal demons, I’m becoming more aware of what happens to me when I feel it get to me. There’s a social and general anxiety element - I worry about every little detail of what might happen, trying to prepare for every potential eventuality or way that others might perceive me, and it makes it almost impossible to stop and enjoy what I’m doing or get out of my own way long enough to connect with anyone. There’s also a real strong shame element to it. If I’m not feeling good about who I am and my trajectory in life then I don’t want anybody getting close to me until I get it sorted. Not sure if it comes from my perfectionist personality, being bullied for any flaws they could find in me growing up, or parents that were heavy on the expectations but light on the acceptance of B+’s, but whatever it is causes me to recede inwardly when I’m not happy about who I am.

I think, for awhile, I was hoping I could just learn to stop being so hard on myself and trust that others would be OK the the mess that I can be sometimes. That’s sure been the advice given to me. But, honestly, I think it’s genuinely easier for me to fix the flaws that are getting me down than it is to fake being comfortable with those flaws. Maybe that seems ridiculous and harsh to some, but I genuinely think it’s my best chance at being happy and funny and outgoing and engaging. At being myself again.

Small steps, but it feels so good to be taking them. I know I’ve said it before, but good things are ahead. I’m sure of it.

-M