Brain Sprain

Many moons ago I had a tantrum and chucked out the bathroom scale. I was sick of its siren song that only led to a crappy mood for the rest of the day. (I wrote about it HERE.) I've gotten to where I don't even think about it most of the time and I have given zero thoughts to buying a new one. I like that my house is a scale-free zone.

Instead, I pay attention to how my clothes fit and how I feel in general...and lately my clothes have been getting a little looser and I feel like a superhero. I've been eating well and training hard, consistently. I'm starting to wonder about my weight, and though I live in a scale-free zone, I do not work in a scale-free zone..in fact right at this moment there's a state-of-the-art scale with bio electric impedance analysis four feet away from me, insidiously whispering "Hey! You're making progress! Don't you want to know what the numbers look like?" 

It would be really easy to hop on and find out how my body has changed.

This is bad, and here's why: I am afraid. I'm afraid that if I get on the scale my bubble will pop, because I know that I am still a long, long way from where I'd like to be. No amount of improvement will seem like enough...and the spiral staircase of shame and depression isn't that far away. These days it's behind me and I'm slowly walking away from it which feels amazing - SUCH a relief - but I know it's there and if I trip I might fall down again. My clumsiness has been known to put Jar Jar Binks to shame.

 Picture this: you've sprained your ankle. A few weeks or months have gone by and it feels pretty good. In fact, it's totally fine and there's no reason not to continue with life as usual. So you go for a walk one day, and you take a funky step (maybe on a root or an uneven sidewalk or you slip on some ice) and WHEEEOOO holy mother of )(&*@#$*(($*%& frip frappin ding DANG!
A few hours later you're sitting on your couch grumpily crunching down ibuprofen and icing your ankle which has somehow grown a set of donkey testicles again.

If you've ever had a physical injury, the rule is that you usually feel pretty good once you're healed 80% of the way...and that's where your risk of re-injury is at its highest, because you guessed it - you let your guard down. Depression is the same, although we don't tend to treat it that way: once you go down that road, your risk of relapsing is high until you've healed ALL THE WAY. Which takes a (sometimes surprisingly) long time.

So I'm not falling into that trap again. I like what's happening here too much to risk another trip into funkytown...and honestly the idea of seeing if I can get on the scale and remain objective wearies me. I'd much rather spend my energy monitoring the weight on the bar!

My Hygiene is Terrible

There, I said it. 

I thought I was going to die when my alarm went off at 4:24 this morning. I seriously felt like I had been asleep for about 5 minutes.

Now, while normally I am a morning person, I am not one to leap out of bed and enthusiastically greet the day with yoga or running or whatever. Generally my morning routine consists of breakfast (I wake up ready to eat a hole in the fabric of the universe so don't get between me and my oatmeal!), and sufficient coffee to get my brain functioning on a level where I am capable of completing a word
game or sudoku...and then I head to work.

Oh wait, were you waiting for stories about how I don't own a toothbrush or wash the bath towels? 

Sorry guys. I'm talking about sleep hygiene. (I think I smell okay most of the time. If I don't you have
to tell me!) 

Anyway. I actually quite like my morning routine and I get pretty grumpy if anything interferes with it, so hitting the snooze button until it's time to jump out of bed, throw on clothes, and guzzle coffee spiked with egg whites and protein powder while I'm driving to work (although that makes a pretty kick-ass quick-ass breakfast if that's how you roll) kinda colours the rest of my day. So, since my work day starts at 5:30am most of the time, and going to bed at 8:30pm isn't really a viable option, 

how on earth do I make this happen? 

If I had answered that question a couple of years ago, I would have answered thusly: "I can sleep when I'm dead! Sleepiness is weakness of character!"

But really what was happening back then was that I'd muscle my way through the week getting progressively stupider, until Friday when I'd spend my work day asking people to stick a kettlebell in their ear using their elbows. Then I'd go home and crash at 7pm, wake up on Saturday at 9am and steel myself to do it all again. It wasn't good. And I burned out. 

So when it came time to get back to the early morning routine, I needed a plan in order to not go down in flames. Getting to bed earlier wasn't an option, so what was left? 

NAPS. 

Ladies and gents, I have turned into a grown-up toddler who gets foul and weepy and dangerous if she doesn't get forty winks in the afternoon. I didn't start this habit on purpose. I used to get home from work, grab some food, and sit down in front of the computer to eat and get some work done and I would wake up two hours later, one side of my face covered in drool and imprinted keyboard keys. After a few of these narcoleptic episodes I decided not to fight it anymore. 

Going to bed in the evening is another story though: when I get into bed, I have this problem where I feel compelled to play silly preschool games on my phone until I have to use scotch tape to keep my eyes open (and I do sometimes, just to get another level done) even though I know better. I know you're supposed to turn the screens of an hour before bed to get better sleep. So, who's with me? Chances are, you need better sleep too, so let's make a deal. Why don't we put our phones away at 9pm for the next 30 days, and we'll see what happens?

Yay Fall!

Happy New Year!

Because seriously, although I'm a fan of January 1st, the first week of September feels like the new year to me. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that line of thinking; we're programmed like that from age 5 (or earlier!) to have our new start in September...and I love it. Everything feels new and crisp and fresh and it's exhiliarating. Am I right?

So in honor of the new year, and also because I wrote almost nothing over the summer, it's time to really get crazy and revamp this whole page! I mean, it's looked the same for three years - it's high time for a bit of a face lift.

I am excited for this year. Like, really really excited. Like, I might have peed a little bit just now thinking about the year ahead. Now, I realize that last year at this time I said the same thing, and it ended up being a pretty rocky phase of life. Do I regret it though? Not one bit.

Well, maybe a little.

Actually, why I insist on learning all my lessons the hard way is beyond me.

Still, the learning!! The lessons I learned last year are ones I will keep with me forever, and I am better because of them. Adversity has only one thing going for it: it's an opportunity to learn, grow stronger...

And then take some really big strides forward.

Here's what I'm excited about for this year, in no particular order. Ready?

I have found a new sport to love: powerlifting. My current project is to get ready for PowerSurge, Alberta's longest running powerlifting meet. It's November 14th, 10 weeks away.

I started this project out of necessity (I was dealing with some drug side effects and couldn't train the way I always used to), out of desperation for a project where I could effectively banish negative thoughts about my weight, but also because lifting really heavy things makes me happy. It has turned out to be a really good fit and I am pretty freaking psyched. I'll keep you posted on that project here.

I have a new blog! Check it out:

grayareagalley.blogspot.ca

Lots of you have asked about my recipes, and up until now I have always shrugged my shoulders in despair because here's the truth: I never, ever cook from a recipe so I haven't ever really had any to pass on! But I have started writing some of them down, as well as some of my thoughts on nutrition and the elusive balance between weight management and liking life. I hope you enjoy it and find some useful ideas there. (Please share it if you do.)

Stick around 'cause other cool stuff is happening over here!

ALL or NOTHING

In another life, all I wanted to do was be a musician. I couldn't fathom doing anything else and couldn't see any use in even considering other career choices. A well-rounded education was a waste of time as far as I was concerned - that was only for people who were unsure of what they wanted to do. People who weren't committed. Not me. There was only one thing I loved.

We all know how that turned out! And it wasn't a bad thing that life didn't play out that way - instead I fell in love with a musician and had a couple of babies...and babies really throw a wrench into soaring career trajectories! Suddenly, when people called our house to hire both of us for an engagement, our stock response became "well, one of us can do it..." And, you know, one of us usually meant the one NOT nursing and half-crazed from post-partum depression and sleep loss.

I played less and less, until it seemed pointless to even hang onto all of my instruments and I sold all but one of them. Years went by and I didn't play at all - didn't really even think about it. I mean, life was pretty full - I had two small kids, a new career (that I was wildly enthusiastic about), and new goals to chase. But every once in a while, I'd go watch Joel play and I'd think "damn, I miss playing music!"

But then I'd go home and forget about it. Sometimes I'd pick up my bass trombone and play a little and then put it away, frustrated and sad over how much I'd lost. I didn't identify myself as a musician anymore. I avoided even listening to good music; it took too much attention.

All or nothing.

Sounds like a big ol' sob story, doesn't it? Here's the thing though: when I was pursuing a music career, I wasn't happy. I mean, there were moments of pure joy which made it worth it, but generally I lived in a prison inside my head where the warden was constantly berating me for not being better. I hated practicing because there was just me and that voice in my head telling me I wasn't good enough, that I was a disappointment to everyone who ever cared about or invested in me.

So getting some distance from music was a good thing.

And then, about a year ago, I fell in love with it again. But this time around, I am doing it for me. I have let go of the idea that I will ever be world-class and am playing purely for the fun of it. I've been listening to all the great music that I've been avoiding for ten years. I'm cautiously but happily referring to myself as a musician again...and it's AWESOME, Jelly-Man.

So what changed?


I'll tell you what changed: it doesn't have to be all or nothing anymore.

(To be continued...)






 

One door closes...

...and another one opens. Just like that.

Sometimes closing a door is a relief. There's freedom in commitment. (Wasn't that on a Starbucks cup or something?) Anyway, too many open doors is not a good thing, trust me: I spent the last sixteen months in a weird limbo-land where all the doors hung open but I couldn't actually go through any of them because I was waiting for them to line up in the proper order. Instead I got fed up and kicked a bunch of them shut, and though it didn't feel good at the time, it was the right move. Now I can focus.

With that in mind, it's time for some re-evaluation. A funny thing happens when you let go of a career goal that you've held close for any length of time: it makes you realize how much you've defined yourself by that goal...and not by who you are RIGHT NOW.

I'm taking this week off to get my head around them apples, because what a mind job! At the same time, it's an opportunity to take a closer look at what my strengths are and play to those, rather than focussing on trying to fix my weaknesses. You know all those stupid sayings that lululemon and their ilk like to plaster all over the place, like "Go toward what scares you" and "Leave your comfort zone behind" and "Until you spread your wings, you'll have no idea how far you can fly"? Well, after sixteen months of trying to be what I'm not, I say fuck all that nonsense. Embrace who you are, right now, and do what you love and what you do best. Everything else is for someone else to do.

Because here's the thing: I am not a type A, driven, entrepreneurial business person. I'm just not. And there's nothing wrong with that. What I am good at is building relationships, coaching, and helping other people be their best, one step at a time. And when I'm done doing that with a bunch of people each day, I want to go home to my family, chill out, maybe play some music or write or work on whatever creative project I have going. Someone else can take care of the nuts and bolts of running a business...which is why I am putting the Gray Area Fitness Studio notion to bed, and going back to World Health.

Now, almost everyone I have told about this has expressed their condolences...which, you know, I appreciate because it WAS my dream and I failed at making it a reality. But it wasn't making me happy, and I am 100% confident that diving headfirst back into my comfort zone is the right thing to do. Letting go of the dream and kicking that door closed feels GOOD. You know why?

Because that was me dreaming of BEING SOMEONE ELSE. And maybe I had to go through all this to figure out that being me is awesome in all sorts of ways that I didn't appreciate. But don't worry, the Gray Area brand is here for the long haul - there's a new project in the works. Stay tuned!

The Heavy Lifting

 Building a really good fire takes some work. Once it's burning merrily, all you have to do is throw another log in every so often to keep it going.

If you run out of logs, eventually the fire will go out.

I'm not sure my fire is all the way out - there may still be some embers glowing away in there. In fact, I'm sure there are; you can't keep a bonfire that size going for years and expect it to just go out over a couple of months. But I am clean out of fuel to keep it going.

The fire I'm referring to here is the shame I have felt over my appearance for most of my life. I haven't wanted to write about this because I wanted to be sure before I put it out there. If you've been around here for a while you know that I've flip-flopped on this a few times. But something has changed over the last two months:

I have run right out of fucks to give on this matter.

And you know what? It feels great, but in a weird, guilty way - like I've stolen something and gotten away with it. Ever since I was a kid I've had it in my head that in order to be - what? Good? Worthy of love or respect? I had to be lithe, athletic, and competitive. Anything less was embarrassing and bad and needed fixing. I've been trying to hate myself thinner since I was ten years old.

So what changed? Well, it wasn't a single event. After the great gym meltdown of a couple of months ago and my subsequent decision to stop worrying about what other people thought and just be me (which seems trite when I put it like that but I promise it hasn't been easy), it seemed like the next logical step was to accept what is.

And what is, is this:

I am overweight, this is true. But I am not JUST overweight - I am so much more than that, that the weight thing doesn't even bear mentioning in this context. I'm a trainer, a musician, a writer, an athlete, mother, wife, sister, friend, foodie...

...and I have had it with tying myself into knots trying to look a certain way. I'm not even going to try anymore, 'cause here's the thing: I work out because I enjoy it. Finding where my limits are each day and pushing them just enough feels awesome.  There's an art to building a really great exercise program that demands intuition, creativity, empathy, and oh yeah, some science doesn't hurt either I guess. Along the same lines, I eat well because it makes me feel good. But also, creating healthy recipes and meals that taste good and look pretty and help people feel like this eating well thing is manageable and sustainable, makes me ridiculously happy.

So this is me truckin' on, doing the same things I've always done...not doing them angrily and frantically in pursuit of a specific outcome (which still may be out of reach), but because those are the things I love the most. Did I mention I love lifting weights? Consider that weight LIFTED, bitches!

Moving Forward Again

Dear World,
I got pretty angry at you last week. Now that we've had a few days to cool off, let's talk it out - what do you think?

I've had a crazy flood of messages come at me over the weekend, which is awesome (and really I was pretty overwhelmed at the outpouring of support so thanks again everyone) because my goal here is to call out the elephants in the room, to get people to notice them and acknowledge them and hey, maybe even start up a conversation and get some understanding going on both sides. Yes, I did mean for that double entendre to happen. Yes, it's a little offensive. But the shoe fits.

Here's the thing though, and a lot of you mentioned it - I dare say a lot more of you read my rant and thought it but didn't want to say anything - but don't worry, I was thinking it too:
Whose hang-up is this anyway? Am I just projecting all my own shit all over everyone? Is it my issue or everyone else's?

The answer is, it's gray area. (Okay, I'll stop with the double entendres now. Ha.) Of course lots of it came from my own head. Probably some of the people I ran into at the gym just didn't see me or recognize me...but it wasn't ALL me. There's no way. And this isn't just my problem, weight gain has a huge stigma attached to it, especially in the fitness industry...and I get why. I really do - and if I'm honest, I can't even disagree with it a hundred percent.

I'm reminded of a conversation I had recently with my boss: I was attempting to express to him my frustrations with being and feeling judged at work, that my current appearance isn't ME and I don't know less or feel like I should be worth less because I've gained 60lbs. After all, I didn't suddenly decide one day that to hell with this eating properly and exercising shit, I was just going to sit around and eat pizza and donuts...I developed a tumour which caused a hormone imbalance. I never stopped valuing healthy living,  it just LOOKS like I did.  His response (and he was matter-of-fact but not unkind) was that like it or not, as trainers it is our job to be paragons of good health, to be the inspiration, to model the lifestyle that we're selling. People judge based on what they see, I can't expect them not to and I have no real right to get angry about it.

So there's that. Here's what it really boils down to, though, and this is the conclusion that I've reached after stewing for days about how to deal, debating whether or not to even stay in this field, and wondering how to move forward in a body that doesn't seem to want to. Ready?

"After stewing in his emotions, emo veg comes to the 

conclusion that the root of the world's problems

 is that people don't seem to carrot all."

I could drive myself crazy trying to own everyone else's shit, trying to change the world and alter how people think and interact and function from day to day....or not. Instead I could just accept that all this body image stuff is my challenge to face, and just keep on putting one foot in front of the other. Either way, it's my choice, and I'm choosing not to make myself crazy. My efforts are better spent elsewhere - like on learning to feel like myself again!

So, dear world, think what you want. I don't have to know or care because the only opinions and prejudices I have to own are mine. It is not up to me to please you. I'm not sure where that leaves us but I think our relationship can grow from here now that we've re-balanced the power.