It is no news that I have been feeling a little melancholy lately. I have been taking steps to keep the whole s.a.d. thing in line. Vitamin D! Exercise! Good eating habits!
(Vitamin D is the only new thing, but it seems to be helping a little.)
(I have to confess that I hate even bringing that all up. I don’t want to be one of those people. You know the ones. They who who play up any drama in their lives in order to try to evoke empathy. Just know that I am writing from my heart, and nothing less. I only wanted to let those of you who are wondering know that I am doing what I can.)
There is something about Winter that brings out a whole other side of me. I complain frequently about my hatred of winter. There is the cold, and the snow, and the daylight hours that end before they truly begin. The days are long, dark, dreary. There are no more days spent shuttling to and from the beach. No more packing and unpacking snacks, toys, SAND. While I love the summer weather, the crazy could be tempered a little bit.
The winter days are still busy, yes, but not as they are in the summer. Time is spent indoors. There are pictures to be colored, lego creations to be built, imaginations to be explored.
I find myself with more time to think. I do that a lot, all year ’round. Think. While driving, while in a check-out line, while showering. The wheels are always turning. Always.
Now that the bulk of my time is spent indoors, with no distractions apart from the wiping of a dirty bum (or couch), I have even more time to think. Reflect. Ponder.
Through in some contemplative Christmas music, and you have a recipe for disaster. Or possibly, success.
This past week has found me in a whole new place. I had put myself in a box, creatively. I have been challenged to break down the walls. To stop doing the things I have been doing so consistently. To stop catering to my own “formula”. Post a photo, write some words, fit the mold.
I have created this mold. It is all sorts of stupid. I have kept a journal ever since I was twelve years old. There were no photos. Just (awkward, angsty) words.
I need to have more confidence in my writing ability. I struggle with this. I should be able to write what is on my heart without fear of repercussions. My thoughts and feelings are just that. My thoughts and feelings. If I am inspired to share them, to write them, to find that bit of healing that comes from just getting it out, others should not be offended. If they are? They are welcome to not come here.
They are also welcome to come to the realization that that it is not about them.
This is not to say that I will throw out the photos and the tidbits. They are true, they are real, they are part of the complexity that is Angella. I just know that some of my most favourite posts are ones that I just wrote from the heart. There were often tears involved while I poured out my heart. No editing, no fear of repercussions. Just the truth.
My other barrier had been the fact that I want to do everything well. I have talked before about my abilities, my drive, my husband’s statement that everything I touch turns to gold. I have been getting better at paring down what I focus on. My problem is that sometimes I still feel like that thirteen-year-old girl who desperately wanted to be liked. When people present me with opportunities I want to say yes because they like me. THEY REALLY LIKE ME.
This week has brought me back to the list of goals that I wrote out last month. I wrote them out…and have done not a thing about them. I have been called on that very fact and made to set dates, take steps, live outside the zone of comfort that I have created for myself.
I want to break through the fortress of walls that I have built. I want to step to the edge. To look down, to step out, to see what happens. I am excited to see where it will take me. I am also a little scared.
However. It is time that I stopped being fearful of what could be, and started being fearful of what could not be. How about you?
It’s Not Snowing. Yet.*
Date: Thursday November 13, 2008Posted in: Emily, Family, Graham, Nathan, fitness&health, me
I honestly hesitated before posting about the whole “S.A.D.” post the other day for two reasons:
1. It really is not that bad. I don’t want to spend the entire day in bed (Well, no more than any Mom), my eating habits are fine, I am not (Super) moody.
2. I would sound like one of those people who really is depressed, but in complete denial.
“I’m FINE”
*Buries head in sand*
I chatted with my stepmother the next day and told her this. She brought up that it is pretty normal to have the Winter Blues. She also reminded me that I start complaining about winter when it is still summer and it is all I can do to keep from literally melting. Point taken.
Thanks to all of you who emailed and commented with encouragement, suggestions, and love. Give yourselves a big kiss from me. But no tongue. That’s not how I roll.
The ironic thing about Monday is that after writing a big post about how much I hate winter. Murphy and his Law kicked in. It was bright, it was sunny, it was downright balmy. In NOVEMBER.
Nathan, Emily and I left mid-afternoon to pick Graham up from school. It was so warm that I would have broken a sweat in my ski jacket. We opted for sweaters/light jackets.
We arrived at the school to see that Graham and a friend had just taken a tumble off of the jungle gym. His lip decided to pick a fight with another kid’s head.
His lip lost.
I decided that we all needed a break from the usual, and that we should soak up the last hour of daylight that was left. I chose a different beach than we normally go to as it’s location has more late-afternoon sun.
It also has a lot of leaves.
And a playground.
Complete with monkey bars.
Graham was so proud to be wearing his Remembrance Day poppy.
The park also has a slide.
Like many of the parks around here, it is also on the lake.
We soaked up as much sun as we could. Sadly, all good things must come to an end.
Time to say goodbye to the lake.
As we were walking back to the van, the kids started their impromptu Leafapalooza. We were all laughing and having a great time. They were allowed to throw stuff at each other and I got to take some photos. All was grand.
Then my fingers froze. The tips started to go white.
I hate winter.
But I am working on it.
* Murphy’s Law will probably kick in and it will be snowing as you read this. I’d put money on it if I wasyou, and I am not one to usually place bets.
**A year ago today: Posting By Candlelight
You may have heard me mention The 30 Day Shred. I have been diligent with Shredding every. single. day. except for the days that I have Boot Camp and the two days we were wandering through Washington State. I could have attempted to do The Shred in the minivan or the hotel, but the DVD player was essential to keeping my children from completely melting down. I was not about to mess with a good thing.
When I purchased The 30 Day Shred, I also purchased her book called Making The Cut. I was going to go balls-out. Even though I don’t have balls.
Ahem.
(I’m really hoping my pastors (Who read my site!) skip this post somehow.)
I am not one who can usually read in the car, but we were on a highway that was pretty straight. I picked up the book and started reading. There was a calculation to determine my base metabolic rate (BMR). I did this BY HAND. WITHOUT EXCEL. I was roughing it, yo.
There was also a quiz to determine your metabolic type. I answered the plethora of questions and tallied by results to come to the conclusion that I was a “Balanced Oxidizer”. I had figured this out on my own years ago, but it is always nice to have confirmation.
As I read more into the book, I shared with Honey what I was learning as he drove.
Me: I am a Balanced Oxidizer. Which is what I thought!
Him: *Silence* *Possibly confused by my “Fitness Speak”*
Him: What on earth are you calculating?
Me: My Base Metabolic Rate.
Him: *Silence*
Me: There is a full 30-day meal plan! A lot of the meals look tasty.
Him: *Silence*
I read more into the book. She recommends cutting out all alcohol for 30 days. I get that. I could cut out my nightly weekly cocktails.
She also recommends cutting out salt intake. No problemo.
Then I read the list, which included some of my daily staples: soya sauce, mustard, dill pickles.
REALLY JILLIAN? Dill pickles? THEY ARE MY GO-TO SNACK. Crunchy. Tasty. TWO CALORIES.
I told Honey that I might give this a go. Cut out the salty stuff, try some of the crazy tasty meals.
He, in his infinite wisdom, said this:
*Nothing*
Through the next few days I came to a (not so) startling conclusion. Doing more than I already do really is crazy. Here is my fitness tally:
I attend Step Boot Camp two nights a week: 2.5 hours (Though she pushed it to three hours this week. SHE HAS NO MERCY.)
I do The Shred for 1/2 hour per day (It is “technically” 20 minutes, but I need a bathroom break halfway through to prevent dribbling. I blame the kids for that issue.)
(Um. Hi, Pastor Sue?)
Then there are my regular morning exercises.
- Tell kids to hurry up and get their shoes and jackets on.
- Run out to start the minivan, rubbing hands together the whole way.
- Get back inside and tell them to get their shoes and jackets on. PLEASE.
- Run upstairs for a final pee. Bladder is not what it used to be.
- Run back downstairs.
- TELL THEM TO GET THEIR SHOES AND JACKETS ON.
- Help Emily with her shoes and jacket, usher everyone out to the minivan.
- Run back into the house (while rubbing my hands together) to grab Graham’s school backpack.
- Run back to the van (rubbing my hands together) with a Spiderman backpack on my shoulder.
- Hop into the van to hear the cries of Emily and Nathan that THEY NEED THEIR BACKPACKS TOO.
- Run back into the house (while rubbing my hands together) to grab their backpacks.
- Run back to the van (rubbing my hands together) with a green backpack on one shoulder and a pink backpack on the other shoulder.
THAT TOTALLY COUNTS AS A WORKOUT.
I talked to Honey about it all again yesterday. I told him that making separate meals for 30 days might not be feasible. And that maybe I was buying into the hype a little.
He finally spoke. He told me that I looked great. That I was working so very hard to be healthy. That I was stronger, was fitter, was healthier than I was even two years ago.
I agreed. I could go gangbusters for 30 days with what I eat (which is already very balanced and healthy). The end result might be…what? Losing A POUND?
I am at a weight that I have held (apart from pregnancy) for many years. It is healthy, it is in the right BMI range, my doctor likes it. The added bonus from working out is that I am becoming more toned.
Why go crazy for 30 days, making separate meals, cutting out low calorie/low fat flavors I like…so that I might lose a pound or two? It seems stupid.
Honey agrees wholeheartedly.
So?
Pass the pickles.
Friday is my “cheat night”. You could probably pass the chips too. Heck. I might even have a glass of wine.
Care to join me?
