So, it's four in the morning. What are YOU doing?
Oh, me? I'm just hanging out here, not sleeping. I've been WIDE awake since three. And I didn't fall asleep until almost midnight. I'm predicting MASS CRANKYNESS in about twelve hours. I got another cordisone shot in my left heel yesterday afternoon, so I'm hoping this is just short-term insomnia from the pain or from the steroid itself. I know from experience that I get spectacular insomnia from oral steroids, and though steroid shots aren't supposed to cause the same side effects I do seem to remember a little bit of this from the shots I got in October and November.
Frustratingly, this shot means that I can't exercise for several days. I have been SO GOOD with getting up and exercising over the past week and a half. I haven't missed a single day, until today. I haven't written about it here, but since January first I've been on this revolutionary new diet called Eat Less, Move More. Awesome, right? I hear it works really well. It isn't so much a diet in that I want to lose weight, though that would be nice. What I'm really trying to do is keep my blood pressure from getting so high it makes my head pop right off my body like a dandelion. Did you ever do that with dandelions as a kid? You were supposed to hold them in your fist and say "Momma had a baby and it's head popped off", then flick the head of the dandelion off with your thumb. Gory and morbid, now that I think about it. Where in the world did that come from, anyway? Google just seems to reveal several other people asking the same question, but no one with the answer. GOOGLE HAS FAILED ME, WHAT DO I DOOOOO?
Uh, what was I talking about? Right, blood pressure. Long story short, a combination of two unrelated medications that I'm taking, along with my deep love of salt, have my blood pressure hovering around the pre-hypertension area. So it is low sodium and more exercise for the next three months before my next checkup. Exciting, right?
This, in and of itself, is not such a big deal. I'm not really in the danger zone, I'm not going to die RIGHT THIS MINUTE OMG, and this is all fixable. What is a big deal, to me, is that I have exactly ZERO confidence that I can pull off any improvement goals that relate to my physical self. I've never been at all athletic, as anyone who has ever met me will verify. I mean, I once sprained my ankle playing miniature golf for goodness sake. The fact that I've even survived into adulthood without being hit by a train is pretty impressive.
Klutziness aside, physical activity has never been "my thing". I never had a particular inclination for it, being more the bookish introverted sort who preferred to stay in my room reading or playing on the computer than doing anything that involved actually leaving the house. But if I'm really honest, I just had a fear of trying anything I wasn't positive I would be good at. Okay, I have a fear of trying anything I'm not positive I'll be good at. At least if anyone else is looking. I'd rather not try than try and fail. Is that the right/healthy way to approach life? Not at all. I know that. But it's hard to fight against something I've been doing for 29 years, you know?
So now, with this, I'm trying. Even though I might (likely) fail. Talking about it isn't easy, because then you all will know when I fail, and obviously that means you won't like me anymore, and I will die alone and friendless before I turn 30. Obviously.
I don't mind talking about my klutziness or any of my "safer" faults - at least they are funny. With those, people are laughing with me, not at me. But cripplingly low self esteem? Not so funny. No one wants to read about that, or so I tell myself and four in the morning when I'm typing away at my laptop, trying not to wake T. I'm too lazy, I'm not strong enough, I don't have the willpower, I'll give up because it is easier, I can't do it, I'm too weak, I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough, and gosh-darn-it, people don't actually like me. I've lived with that internal monologue every day for as long as I can remember. Almost two years into therapy and I still haven't managed to turn it off. (Does that mean I fail at therapy, too? Goddamnit.) But I'm trying. And now I'm telling you all about it. I suppose that counts for something.
Oh, me? I'm just hanging out here, not sleeping. I've been WIDE awake since three. And I didn't fall asleep until almost midnight. I'm predicting MASS CRANKYNESS in about twelve hours. I got another cordisone shot in my left heel yesterday afternoon, so I'm hoping this is just short-term insomnia from the pain or from the steroid itself. I know from experience that I get spectacular insomnia from oral steroids, and though steroid shots aren't supposed to cause the same side effects I do seem to remember a little bit of this from the shots I got in October and November.
Frustratingly, this shot means that I can't exercise for several days. I have been SO GOOD with getting up and exercising over the past week and a half. I haven't missed a single day, until today. I haven't written about it here, but since January first I've been on this revolutionary new diet called Eat Less, Move More. Awesome, right? I hear it works really well. It isn't so much a diet in that I want to lose weight, though that would be nice. What I'm really trying to do is keep my blood pressure from getting so high it makes my head pop right off my body like a dandelion. Did you ever do that with dandelions as a kid? You were supposed to hold them in your fist and say "Momma had a baby and it's head popped off", then flick the head of the dandelion off with your thumb. Gory and morbid, now that I think about it. Where in the world did that come from, anyway? Google just seems to reveal several other people asking the same question, but no one with the answer. GOOGLE HAS FAILED ME, WHAT DO I DOOOOO?
Uh, what was I talking about? Right, blood pressure. Long story short, a combination of two unrelated medications that I'm taking, along with my deep love of salt, have my blood pressure hovering around the pre-hypertension area. So it is low sodium and more exercise for the next three months before my next checkup. Exciting, right?
This, in and of itself, is not such a big deal. I'm not really in the danger zone, I'm not going to die RIGHT THIS MINUTE OMG, and this is all fixable. What is a big deal, to me, is that I have exactly ZERO confidence that I can pull off any improvement goals that relate to my physical self. I've never been at all athletic, as anyone who has ever met me will verify. I mean, I once sprained my ankle playing miniature golf for goodness sake. The fact that I've even survived into adulthood without being hit by a train is pretty impressive.
Klutziness aside, physical activity has never been "my thing". I never had a particular inclination for it, being more the bookish introverted sort who preferred to stay in my room reading or playing on the computer than doing anything that involved actually leaving the house. But if I'm really honest, I just had a fear of trying anything I wasn't positive I would be good at. Okay, I have a fear of trying anything I'm not positive I'll be good at. At least if anyone else is looking. I'd rather not try than try and fail. Is that the right/healthy way to approach life? Not at all. I know that. But it's hard to fight against something I've been doing for 29 years, you know?
So now, with this, I'm trying. Even though I might (likely) fail. Talking about it isn't easy, because then you all will know when I fail, and obviously that means you won't like me anymore, and I will die alone and friendless before I turn 30. Obviously.
I don't mind talking about my klutziness or any of my "safer" faults - at least they are funny. With those, people are laughing with me, not at me. But cripplingly low self esteem? Not so funny. No one wants to read about that, or so I tell myself and four in the morning when I'm typing away at my laptop, trying not to wake T. I'm too lazy, I'm not strong enough, I don't have the willpower, I'll give up because it is easier, I can't do it, I'm too weak, I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough, and gosh-darn-it, people don't actually like me. I've lived with that internal monologue every day for as long as I can remember. Almost two years into therapy and I still haven't managed to turn it off. (Does that mean I fail at therapy, too? Goddamnit.) But I'm trying. And now I'm telling you all about it. I suppose that counts for something.
