Dear Mr. Personal Trainer,
I’m coming in to see you today after six months of, mostly, sitting on my hind end. And, by mostly I mean completely. I understand that you want to know my history and goals, so here goes.
I maintained a normal weight until just after my 26th birthday. Then I got married, had a high-stress career, renovated a house, had a preemie baby and blamed every pound I gained on each of those things. I had no time and no energy.
Then I had another baby and he was um…kind of difficult…even if I had had the time and energy, I would have taken it and put it into making him better, stronger, healthier, smarter and more typical. It turns out that ten years and ten surgeries later I realize that I like him just the way he is, which is sickly, tiny and kind of quirky, but that’s a whole different letter.
How I got here is beside the point; it’s where I want to go that matters. Eight months ago my high cholesterol sent me into the waiting arms of a vegan diet. Now I have a relationship with beans that I never thought possible. Also, my cholesterol dropped 160 points in three months. Without meds. Me and beans? We kind of love each other.
I joined your gym in January and started working out with a trainer and spent hours there each week. But, then the trainer got moved to another position and I got whooping cough, then summer came and that’s my SUPER busy season at the job I love and am passionate about. I had a hard time peeling myself away from my computer screen. And, once again, as I have countless times over the last decade, I fell into a vicious cycle of excuses.
I want this bad. I want good health, a long life and I want to be strong again. I wouldn’t mind if you could throw in some quickness and good balance, but if you could just get me to a point where it’s not a nightmare to get dressed each day, that would be great.
I take Zoloft and Ambien (see aforementioned paragraphs mentioning kids) and I know the anti-anxiety meds aren’t conducive to weight loss, but they also help me sit and watch mindless TV like Wheel of Fortune without grinding my teeth and clenching every muscle in my body. If you asked me whether I wanted to go back to feeling like I was always on the verge of a panic attack or be fat, I would chose the fatness. So, we have to work around that.
I like beer. A lot. I like chocolate. A lot. I also like vegetables and feel strong enough about my health to become a vegan and stick to that completely. But, please don’t ask me to give up beer. Or chocolate. Or coffee.
I would love to run a half marathon someday, but only a half because I think a full marathon is crazy. Plus I have asthma, so I don’t even think full marathons are allowed. Just sayin’. Oh, and I’m 41. FORTY-ONE, which is to say that I feel very middle-aged and if I don’t turn this around FOR REAL this time, I won’t ever do it.
I still have a whole life to live and so many places I want to go and a zillion things I want to do, but I won’t do any of them happily unless I can fix myself and I don’t know how to do that. I want you to help me get to a point where I can stop hating myself.
So, there you go.
No pressure.
Things that made today awful:
1. Grocery shopping in the rain.
2. Wet socks
3. The dog rolling in dead stuff.
4. $388 in medical bills in addition to the $224 from yesterday and the $188 I spent on groceries. In the rain.
5. Hot coffee splashing my eyeball.
6. A hangnail.
7. My scale.
Things that made today good:
1. I didn’t have to turn on the heat.
2. I didn’t have to turn on the air conditioning.
3. I got paid for a post I wrote.
4. Kenny Loggins. Shut up.
5. The dog got a bath.
6. I laughed.
7. I realized that tomorrow is another day.
I’ll be honest, I’m the first person to admit that I don’t know what I’m talking about.
I didn’t have any siblings who were close to my age. By the time I could form full sentences, my three older sisters had either moved out, or were close to it, and my step-sister and I never lived together. Sibling rivalry, I know it not.
I thought I understood the dynamics from watching my friends with their brothers and sisters. I remember the occasional name-calling or shoving match and thinking that I was glad I didn’t have to share my room, but I don’t remember seeing anyone have complete and utter disdain for a sibling until my kids came along.
Everyone tells me it’s normal. Everyone says that it’s just a phase and my kids will grow up to be kind to each other, but right now things seem awfully bleak.
I understand that it’s hard to be a 13 year old girl, because a long, long time ago I was one. You know how people say there are only two things which are certain; death and taxes? Well, if you’re a girl you can say death, taxes and hormones and when you’re 13, the wicked ones are raging. I would imagine it’s especially hard to be a 13 year girl and have a little brother with special needs. That is something I can’t pretend to comprehend.
What I do know is that my 10 year old son and his many quirks and needs are sometimes painful for all of us, but always painful for some of us. And, by some of us I mean my daughter and only my daughter. Every single thing he does annoys her. Greatly.
When you’re a teenager there isn’t anything worse than not fitting in and her little brother doesn’t. As much as I would love for her to swoop in and be the big sister who helps him with homework, reads to him at night and protects him from bullies, I have accepted this is unrealistic. It’s just not who she is. She’s more of the eye-rolling, never-speaking, ignoring type.
Of course, there are a lot of things I want that I can’t have, but giving up this dream feels harder than most. It wasn’t along the lines of having a home in Hawaii or the leading role in The Notebook alongside Ryan Gosling; this sibling-love thing seemed doable. Instead, it has turned into a sort of love-story gone wrong; mutual admiration morphed into him adoring her and asking about her day and her yelling at him and slamming the bedroom door with an, “UGH!” and “You are so annoying!” thrown in for good measure. I’ve seen people divorce over less.
Maybe I should stop expecting so much from my dreams and just be happy if they don’t end up killing each other.
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