The Challenge in a Challenge .

I started a 30 day challenge this month. Decided to get up off my ample ass and DO something. A physical something since I’m not running short of projects right now. My friend said my list of shit makes her head hurt. Which is funny to me because she is decidedly more organized and busier than I am. I’m currently working full time, taking two certification classes, sitting on a board of directors for one organization, will be co-chair of my community advisory board, writing an article every couple months for a magazine, blogging, making jewelry, I will very shortly need to start taking on my duties as president-elect of another organization, and trying to Jedi mind trick myself into signing up for online dating. Oh, and trying to learn Spanish in an app that nudges and nags me into practicing 10 minutes a day.

What I am and was not doing was getting up off my aforementioned ass to physically do something. I should be doing something about this Covid panny-d-damn-emic weight I’ve put on. The stress of (grand) parenting weight. The almost 50 and my metabolism ain’t shit weight. The weight gain from my medication. The weight from not doing the thing that gives me freedom and was getting me moving– roller skating. All of which puts a mental weight on me that translates into snacking on bullshit and the cycle continues.

For Fucks Sake.

Anyway. A couple of rough mental days later and several days into my thirty day challenge, I crumbled and sat my ass down instead of working out. It was a deliberate choice. I came in and made salmon for dinner. (could have worked out while it cooked) I repaired a bracelet for a friend and made some earrings for another. (could have used that time to work out) I’m laying in the bed and (could be using the time that I’m spending writing about this to work out) instead I’m laying here and thinking about the challenge in a challenge.

I have reasons I chose not to work out and some people might call them excuses. They really aren’t. I’m completely exhausted. I got Covid a few weeks ago and the fatigue is still killing me. Because it’s been so long since I worked out my hips and my back and the knee I had surgery on last year are not very happy with me right now. The workouts I’ve been following along with are actually pretty aggressive for anyone, especially someone just getting back into it. I had a terrible headache and I am not sure if that is from lingering effects of Covid or caffeine withdrawal or not sleeping enough . The main reason I didn’t work out though, is because as a culmination of all those things I decided to show myself some compassion.

Self-compassion is different than self care because it’s not about pampering myself. It’s showing myself the grace I grant to others because I am listening to my spirit and my body’s need to take a break. I think that recognition is part of the challenge when we set these types of goals for ourselves. It’s having the ability to take a break without guilt when we need it. It’s knowing that even though I may have capitulated and sat down- it doesn’t make me any less of a person. It doesn’t make me a quitter and it doesn’t make me pitiful. Even if the Pessimistic Petunia in my head says so. While Pessimistic Petunia only exists in my head she’s hella loud with her internal criticism – and she can also kiss the entire circumference of my ass.

I gave up soda for this challenge as well. I want a Dr. Pepper so bad my head pops up every time I hear the crack of a soda can or the hiss of a bottle opening. Hence the caffeine withdrawals. I also mostly gave up coffee. (I can’t give that completely up because coffee is life.) I’m also doing my best to give up negative self-talk, beating myself up, and worrying about what other people will think. Challenging the way that I look at ( and SEE) myself is almost as hard as the physical part of working out. I had these things that I wanted to do by the time I turn 50. Now, 50 is around the corner now and some of that shit is not going to get done. And that’s okay. I’ll do what I can and the rest I’ll get to when opportunity presents, or when I decide to.

Giving myself grace just means tomorrow is a new day for me to try again. I need to learn to be okay with that instead of letting it push me further into depression or anxiety. I’m definitely tired of that particular cycle and I need to start listening to myself more.

When you are tired grant yourself the compassion to sit your ample ass down without guilt.

You matter.