Spoiler Alert: I lasted 2 minutes. TWO WHOLE FREAKING MINUTES. Are you kidding me? Last June I was on a stage in a bikini in the best shape of my life and now I can't work out for more than 120 seconds? Rhetorical questions, obviously, but questions none the less.
I just LIED to you, I literally just wrote down a lie, consciously. I am horrible! I lasted 1.5 minutes.
Anyway, so blah blah bullshit I tried a new workout and realized I really suck right now. With that said I will try and commit some time to walking on the treadmill every (other) day to build that stamina so I can do a real workout sooner than later.
Now, down to the nitty gritty. Getting in shape is just one part of me getting all of my shit together. There are many facets to one's shit, such as but not limited to, physical abilities, mental capabilities, cleanliness, not binge watching Dr. Phil, organization, and, of course, being fly as hell.
Basically, I want to lose 30 pounds, get As in medical school (they don't exist), and be good at everything, or at least go back to thinking I am, and have everything in order. Of course I think I can just do this in an instant. If you know me, you know I genuinely believe that I am good at everything even if I've never tried it. I guess it's because I've been lucky to succeed at most things I've tried my hand at. It's not so much cockiness as it is extreme confidence, I think?
I feel like we are told that we can't like ourselves, especially if we have a chronic illness, because we are unfixable. Sometimes we can't get out of bed, sometimes we are battered and bruised and scared, sometimes we get stuck in the ruts of life, and no one can bandage us up and throw us back out into the game, no one can cure us. But take this world...I like myself, my scars, my illness, and my abilities, I mean, you can't compare an original Rembrandt to a Thomas Kinkade giclée. (Words to live by from Alyssa.)
What I realized today, while sitting in a lecture I'm auditing and not being able to understand a word that was said, lasting a whole 1.5 minutes of a half hour workout, and binge watching Dr. Phil with a cookie in hand, is that I am part of the problem. Scratch that, I am the problem. But good news, I am also the solution. I know that I am far from being alone when it comes to getting stuck in the endless cycle of tiredness, brain fog and disincentive behaviors that occur while one has a flare/is sick/gets surgery. I would like to believe that we all have the ability to help ourselves out of it.
Now excuse me as I become a motivational speaker momentarily...
Do not be a Thomas Kinkade giclée, be a freaking priceless original Rembrandt. Get up, get moving, and stop being miserable, and most importantly, stop watching Dr. Phil.
This is a message to myself, but if you want to use it, be my guest, I suppose I blog for a reason other than it being cathartic (and shit).
So...that was long winded and random, but I will keep you updated on my shit and let you know if it gets together.
Love & Thanks,