Warning: Apology in advance for a whiny, sad, woe-is-me post today. I wanted to share and be honest with y’all.
The other night, I was lieing lengthwise along a rumpled body pillow, using a pink, overstuffed sheep for a pillow, somewhat (read: not very) covered with a Winnie The Poo blanket, on the floor of my daughter’s room. One hand was up on her bed, my index finger grasped firmly in her tiny little hand. If I even tried to move, protests and squirms emanated from above me.
As I lay there, wondering how in $#%* I was going to function the next morning, I realized how ridiculous my situation was. My hand was asleep, there was something jabbing into my hip (turns out it was a wood block under the pillow) and I was freezing cold, having stumbled out of bed half-awake when she woke up, not wearing my jammie bottoms. It was 3 AM, I had a run to do the next day with Run Club, and once again, I was getting no sleep.
It ended up being an inside running kind of day the next day (skating rink roads!), and when I was done, I sat in the sauna, completely drained after only 3.5k. I felt morose, sorry for myself, and frustrated. Thank God I was alone, because I dissolved into messy tears while I sat there, slumped against the wall.
I was frustrated at the whole damned world, and I broke. I needed a hug, chocolate, and someone (other than my husband) to tell me I was doing ok, and could get through this.
I was doubting my ability to be ready for Tough Mudder, not seeing any measurable results on my body. I was fretting about my limitations to run more than 5k without having something hurt in a bad way. I was worried about doing proper work outs when I can’t grasp any energy from anywhere. I was feeling left out because we pay two gym fees for my husband, and I can barely afford my gym fee, let alone entertain a personal trainer (which I need. Badly). I was grumpy at my husband going to the box six days that week, (leaving me with two children to herd every morning) when I had felt frazzled to make four days at the gym on my lunch hour. I was tired of hearing how Crossfit is the best thing in the world, my husband spouting about it non-stop (I’m serious, at some points he was interrupting me to talk about Crossfit… AUGH!). By Sunday morning when I
stormed offleft for the gym, already disappointed that all the 5ker’s had cancelled for Run Club, that if I had to hear one more thing about Crossfit, I was going to lose it and smash things.
Yeah. &$#%. A little tense?
I realized that perhaps this was a sign I needed to slow down, maybe I was trying to do too much. Obviously I was low on energy, but I was also trying to squeeze blood from a stone. By Sunday after my treadmill run, I realized the no-sleep induced stress was affecting my outlook on things, making all these negative emotions come to the surface like resentment, jealousy, frustration, and anger. My interrupted sleep was messing with my blood sugars. That’s never fun.
I should be #$%^ing happy my husband loves something that is making him healthy, and hot. Instead I was resentful. I was craving carbs and sugar and all manner of bad for me things. A clear sign my body was not at optimal performance level. I was beating myself up for no other reason than the Self Critic Beast was in my head, romping happily through my self-confidence and accomplishments, using my wonky blood sugars as fuel for his path of mayhem on my emotions.
I was plain and simple overwhelmed by everything, and my body called “TIME!”.
The first two days of this week I was utterly exhausted, again getting little to no sleep at night, my stomach now upset. I was worried we might have a gastro bug, since my son was complaining of a rumbly tummy and my husband was also feeling drained and out of sorts (Really honey, you don’t think six days of WOD’s might not be the culprit? yeesh *rolls eyes*).
So I worked from home. In my jammies.
On a positive note, I managed to ask to go to a Flexibar class at the gym, which was last night. I was ridiculously excited to see my friends who were coming, maybe realizing I have been missing female companionship of late, and need to schedule some friend time. After the class, I did some cardio. It felt easier, and relaxing. I took the time for me, and asserted myself asking to go to the gym to take a class with my friends (I always hesitate to ask to go after work, it cuts into family time and my husband always gets that look on his face that means he doesn’t like it. He thinks he hides it, but I know… I see the grimace and the “Ok, I guess.” quiet response… Every time).
I know I need to be more structured with my work out plan, and I know I have to bust it out if I want to be ready for May. I would love to have a trainer help me out, and keep me on track. We just can’t afford it. I need to nut up, and ask for two evenings a week so I am not so harried on my lunch hours during winter season when I can’t run. My fitness is as important as his, $#%*.
I also know that I have two wonderful babies that I love, and who need me, a husband to spend time with, a house to
swamp outkeep clean, and a job I need to be present for. How the &%#* do I fit it all in and stay sane so I don’t have another ugly cry in a sauna, feeling utterly overwhelmed with everything? Am I trying to fit too much in? Are my expectations of my ability to exercise and get fit while my kids are this small out of whack? Am I trying to be too strong, not asking for help when I need it? Should I be scaling back for awhile, until my daughter is sleeping better?
I have no &$%^ing idea. I don’t know what the solution is yet. Ideas, chocolate, coffe dates to girl-chat, hugs and winning lottery tickets would all be welcome. ♥