Taking a self-imposed break. Back on Monday.
You can see my brain shortcomings in this tweet. I have a habit of word repetition in instant responses; one of the things being worked at going forward is to lose the pointless stuff via the immediacy of social media speech. Two ‘just’s in a row might seem a pretty nit-picky hill to die on, but it has an important, psychological significance to a woman who’s been fighting her ability to communicate for decades.
Now we’ve got the upper hand there is no giving up.
I’ve just come back from the third day in the Gym, in a row. There’ll be a rest day on Friday, plus I’m away for the weekend on what’s being semi-subtitled as a writing retreat and which includes a couple of hours in a Spa. I’m intending then to run outside, because its closed roads and no pressure, but I could easily ride instead. However, what is abundantly apparent is that harder stuff is becoming easier. If the amount of sweat over the last three days is any indicator, I’m DEFINITELY improving. Weights were up, distances are extended, weight is down.
This is a new area of unexplored territory.
This is different. Everything is… stronger, more connected, less stressful. Last night there was a flash-point, and instead of the whole thing devolving into chaos, there was order. Wisdom came from the most unexpected of sources and rebellion was, frankly refreshing this morning. Also, yesterday evening I was confident enough to do something that a year ago would have filled me with dread. It is all… well, hopeful.
I’ve also worked out why the weight loss is not as fast as it could be, or indeed should be. RIP any sweeteners in my tea until Christmas.
Today, once I’ve placed some new weights on the chest press bar and held myself for ten seconds longer in a plank than yesterday, is the final sweep up of backlog so the next poetry deadline can be met with over a week to spare. If there needed to be a true indicator of progress, then that’s it. I’ve got a list of editing/deadline stuff to poke, NaNoWriMo beginning in fifteen days, and a fairly stress-free cruise to Christmas.
There are a number of potential issues on the horizon. We’ll deal with it if/when it happens.
Even with eight hours last night, I’m still tired. Clearly this weightlifting shit is working. Once I’ve sorted out the skeleton of the week, it’ll be back to the Gym for a cardio session, because arm muscles need a day off. I can’t do this 24/7 any more but there does need to be something, daily, to keep me keen. Having come to a couple of new, interesting conclusions over the weekend, it is probably the right moment to start working towards one attainable goal at a time. We’ll start with weight. After that, endurance, and after that, participation.
One step at a time.
Eventually, in all our lives, something we once loved becomes the thing we hate. If you don’t possess such extremes in emotion, of course, none of this will make any sense. Everything’s just okay. This is not a World I’d ever want to inhabit, where everything is the same, thinly drawn line of comfort. Pushing out of the Zone used to scare the crap out of me, I won’t lie. Now, however, not so much. It also helps when you get a much needed reality check from time to time.
Mine today came from someone who has no idea who I am, my history or my relationship with people who have proven historically to be toxic and frankly rude. When you don’t take the time to know the World around you and pronounce judgement in a manner which suggests you are the only important part of a conversation, I’m already walking away. It’s a shame really, but no surprise. On reflection, this is pretty much the response I thought I’d get.
If you’re that transparent, you’re doing it wrong.
Really looking forward to the weekend, where there will be running and photography. Who knew those two would go together a decade ago?
This time, eighteen years ago, I was stuck in Hospital not having my son. I’d continue to not have him until they cut me open at about 2.30 am on the 15th. It was an odd day, not unlike this one, and the indignity of having my waters broken with a plastic knitting needle still irks, even now. Earlier on this afternoon my husband congratulated me on getting one out of two children to adulthood without screwing it up.
Yeah, he has a point.
That means the next birthday up on the list is mine. There’s already a ton of ‘buy from us and save X Pounds’ vouchers sent by people occasionally shopped with online but if I’m honest none of these things are of any interest. This year, I think I’ll just be grateful if people remember and are nice. Anything else is a bonus.
Just had a shower, have an enormous salad for dinner, and now I can do some work.
I wasn’t going to write until Monday, but as is often the case circumstances had other ideas.
For a long time, I’d been fairly desperate for reassurance: confirmation that what I said and did had some, any kind of relevance. This peaked about eighteen months ago when it was necessary to have a daily affirmation that yes, I mattered. Twitter was a great means by which that could be served and an obsession with followers and numbers became, at times, potentially self-destructive. I’ve always flirted a thin line with obsessive behaviour via the Internet. It’s the cheapest and easiest drug to become addicted to.
What broke this dependence was the actions of one person. They crossed a line which I’d drawn without realising, and recalled a time when I did some pretty stupid shit in order to feel as if I mattered. Over time, and with the unconditional love of tiny humans, emerged the true understanding of what I was and how that ought to translate to decent human behaviour. So, when that person was dumb, it was time to walk away. When they left Twitter, my assumptions over their actions was pretty much confirmed.
Except, they came back. On reflection, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, as they’d left several times before, and when I followed them back without being acknowledged, their actions continued to justify my feelings. Except, it transpires from having read third party conversations, I was the problem. That’s when it finally hit home. You cannot expect other people to do anything except look after themselves. The ones that really care don’t act like fucking morons. They’re not toxic. Leave those people alone. Stop gravitating towards people who hurt you.
Look for the good people and stick with them.
I unfollowed someone this week as I watched them thank people for birthday wishes, politely and dutifully scrolling through their list, except no, not me. I’ve had enough with the people who feel I’m a suppressed passive aggressive needy fucker, this is not about pointing and going ‘what about me?’ This is accepting this person wanted me in their Followers to keep up the numbers but now has me on mute. It’s really not hard to accept this most modern of rebuttals, but honestly I don’t want to be where people won’t respect and listen. So, we no longer follow each other.
If they notice and apologise, I’ll be fucking staggered.
There is no time left to fuck about with this stuff, there is a planet to save, and if your only contribution towards being better people is to do nothing or hope someone else deals with the difficult problems I do not need you in my life any more.
Yesterday, I broke pretty much every record I hold for lifting heavy weights.
This morning, pain and discomfort is not nearly as bad as expected. I can tell you how things have changed in the last month or so, and diet has contributed a major part to proceedings. More importantly however is not allowing inertia to allow ‘yeah, this is enough’ to become the norm. I don’t want enough any more, maintenance is not an option. Progress is the key, enlightenment the goal.
Low carb, low sugar has become an unexpected saviour.
This weekend therefore, house is full of LAN party people. I will be writing poetry as a result and probably watching Netflix upstairs. OR I might end up playing PvP all night.
Normal service again on Monday.