Today I did P90X2 Chest + Shoulders + Tris and X2 Ab Ripper. I did make some changes for example I have not figured out the Chattarocker pushup and might not be ready for it considering my level with pushups (aka pathetic). I did forearm plank to full plank instead (not on my knees). As usual most pushups were on my knees except 5 which I did full. I don’t have an infinite battalion of med balls so for the 3 Med Ball Pushup I did a pushup using a med ball switching/rolling between my hands if that even makes sense! For the Dips with the med balls I just used my step stool instead. The workout was challenging from a strength perspective but I didn’t sweat much. I though the Iron Man with the Pilates Ball felt slightly weird because the Pilates Ball is wider than I am so I felt my arms were pretty far away. I am not sure if I will continue writing these blogs with my daily routines, I am feeling motivated and committed and keeping a journal with my daily workouts. I may report periodically on fitness milestones or post the occasional workout video but unless someone is using these for motivational purposes I don’t feel I need it right now. I may start again if my motivation wavers to help me remain accountable but I am pretty pumped up at the moment!
Oh also I am on a campaign to drink more water and see if that helps me obtain better results. Naturally I don’t drink much, maybe a liter a day. So I have my water bottle and a goal to get in 2 liters which is a lot for me but I think some of my issues are dehydration related. I have to tell myself to drink, to schedule it even, because for some reason the urge just doesn’t strike me often enough.
I did V-Sculpt today from P90X2. I really like P90X so I had to give it a try. Now what I did is not really comparable to the workout presented. They did a gazillion pull ups. I don’t have a pull up bar installed in the new house (It destroyed my door frame in the old apartment, ripped the paint right off!) and even if I did I am not sure that I could do a pull up at this weight and level of fitness! So I had to improvise. I did downward dog push ups hands facing in, diamond push ups, military push ups, push ups alternating the med ball, clean and press, chest press, rows a variety of things instead of pull ups (the workout was full of pull ups okay). I did all the renegade stuff except I could not support my weight on my elbow on a Pilates Ball, I mean honestly I would have died haha They had some great stretches at the end for the shoulders which by then I seriously needed. I had trouble using the bands. I am sure bands work great but it takes me so long to set up and get them secure and the resistance how I need it that I feel like I am losing too much time so unless the exercise seems compelling with the bands I tend to sub with weights. Which is why I didn’t do the band substitutions for the pull ups.
If you are wondering why I am writing this here, it is just motivation for myself, to keep track until I get into the habit of exercising daily again. Though I don’t say as much I do 30 minutes of yoga in the morning with posture exercises and posture exercises before dinner as well.
I have a lot to say but I am not really sure if I will cover everything in this post.
First of all a video. Sam shared this with me a few days ago. It is an inspiring, no excuses, kick in the ass sort of video so if you are feeling defeated and sensitive at the moment it will either knock you out of your rut or pummel you into the floor.
I am not 100% sure how I feel about this video (I do like it). I do agree that if you use your free time to productively work toward your goals that you will make major, possibly life-changing gains. I also agree that getting good at anything takes a long time and a lot of hard work. I wasn’t born with a pencil in my hand, writing sonnets by age six. I had an interest in poetry. I read it first (voraciously let me add) and eventually I started writing my own. I didn’t make any real progress until I started to set aside time to work on it daily (a practice I have neglected of late). My concerns are that I have an obsessive and addictive personality. I am not ambitious so much as destructive. I take everything a step (or 3) too far. I have literally worked myself into the hospital. So at the moment I do not know how to be obsessed with something in a healthy way.
I was abused and I don’t need to get over it. It happened and there is no getting over something like that. I keep trying to return to the me I might have been if I hadn’t been abused but that person doesn’t exist! The only person I have to be, is who I am right now and this person still has issues, issues the me I might have or should have been can’t fucking fathom, much less handle. While I have moved forward, broken the cycle, created a beautiful and safe environment in which I can thrive I am still going to feel things that scare me, that shame me, that frustrate and exhaust me. I am occasionally going to remember something sad or something terrible. I am not living that life anymore thankfully but I can’t erase it either. I can’t erase the me that was betrayed and mistreated but I am in a place now where I can do better for her.
I have had to redefine my idea of success or I should say I NEED to redefine it. When I was a teenager it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t work. I had no idea what I would do but I had every intention of doing something. I applied to one college because again it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t go to college and weirdly I decided that I would go to that particular college. I had decent grades if you completely exclude all things mathematical, zero extra curriculars (school took a lot of effort with the tutoring I required), and pretty damn good ACT scores (yay for the zone because I remember being completely surprised to find I’d taken the test at all). It wasn’t a matter of arrogance though I just really wanted to go to that school.
My first go at college life was a disaster. I went to the wrong classes constantly, I forgot to eat, I lost my wallet twice with all my identification, and my laundry is probably still in the basement. That was the first month. Then I ran away to Sweden because I thought I have a chance at love here, the kind of love that lasts forever so I went for it. When Sam and I came back to the States we first had to live with my mom because he wasn’t legal. We attended the community college but I had every intention of going back to my first school. When we finally arrived there I found out I had forgotten to properly unenroll so I had a 0 for my GPA. My GPA would be purged in 2 years so I had to wait it out. I went to the local community college in the meantine. Then I went back to my school, the only school in existence in my mind apparently lol
Writing saved my ass more than a few times. I have a severe math disability and I was failing Chemistry which was a requirement for my major. The teacher assigned us a paper worth 20% of our final grade we had to read a medical journal and create a summary. She didn’t expect us to be able to understand the journals fully because they were for doctors not students. Maybe it was my love of medicine (and all those extra medical classes I took for fun) but I understood my journal. My paper impressed the teacher enough that she didn’t even care about all the Fs I’d received. Everyone asks me how I graduated University with so many disabilities and the answer is simple I did the only thing I could do, I wrote.
I quickly realized that normal almost never worked for me. I had to be willing to do things in very strange ways even though it made me look rather foolish. I am devastatingly uncoordinated that I can walk at all is almost a violation of physics. Physically I had to do almost everything differently in order to learn. I had to be willing to take dance and karate and look completely spastic. I had to say I am dead last in this class and I am completely botching my recitals but fuck it I will dance. I had to listen to good little ballerinas whine about me and repeat to myself they will not take my passion. I had to go to class with my unflattering leotards and my body dysmorphia and my pin thin classmates and say dance like no one is watching you. I had to go to class despite exclusion in PE and bullying all through school and say I have the right to dance. I took the same classes back to back sometimes just to help information sink in. I have had to work for my successes and I consider myself lucky generally speaking. Life is constantly humbling me. I always look like an idiot. I am always a student. I am probably not as much of a coward as I think I am.
Now that I am out of school and the structure is gone I find it much harder since my head it full of chaos. I keep thinking things like a clean house is a sign of success, a perfect nutritious home-cooked meal is a sign of success, a full-time job is success, a perfect body is success now that I am not in school I have to figure out what success actually means for me. The me who doesn’t have a job, who can’t use the stove on bad seizure days, the me who has a messy house, and the me who has a healthy but imperfect body. What can I do? I can’t wait for therapy. I can’t just wait for life to begin once I am all better. I can’t wait for a cure because miracles don’t work like that. Sam suggests that I make tutorials. He believes we retain information better if we teach. So if you guys have tutorial requests that please god have nothing to do with math let me know. I say that but actually I started studying math because I thought it I studied something really really hard it might get my slow ass brain moving again. So far it hasn’t exactly worked lol I have a degree in Nutrition btw.
Today I have spent most of my time in the bathroom. Suffice to say I’ve felt better. I am not sure if I have a virus/parasite/bacterial infection/absence of vital digestive flora/food allergy or if I’ve developed IBS. I am contemplating going to the doctor as I have had this problem on and off for almost 8 months. And no I haven’t lost any weight, in fact, this year I’ve put on weight!!! I used to have a very slim waist line but now I find my midsection is very strait and sometimes painfully bloated/hard.
I’ve had a hard time concentrating and find that when I write my ideas are being cut off before they can fully develop. I am not sure if it’s the physical strain of my illness and the resulting seizures or if it is a more insidious psychological issue. It’s like every one of my muses has undergone elective amputation. Each time I regard them I sense that something essential is missing. Perhaps they are simply unformed or disfigured such that I cannot decipher their orientation or intentions? I don’t have enough wool to make a sweater or even a sensible pair of gloves. My head is tragically, disconcertingly overflowing with amorphous microscopic fibers. I am proud of the writing I’ve done and more so of my commitment and discipline but I can’t help but feel that there is, inherent in my work, some unforgivable vacancy.
In the past year I have learned so much about myself and I have found a contentment which I had not previously known but there is still within me a fatal disconnect. My brain is full of dark rooms and faulty fuses. It seems to me that every thought/sentiment is a pair of nylon stockings ripping on ingress. I am exhausted and motivated at the same time. I am producing but not to whatever, most likely nonsensical, standard I’ve set.