(Note, probably less of an "update" on my last post, and perhaps more like "another take" on it?)
The idea of “self-care” is all the rage these days, or at least it seems to be (based on the notebook section at Target - where I do all my trendiness research data). The idea of treating it (self-care) as a separate entity from day to day life has always turned me off from the concept entirely. I had always thought “self-care” meant exercise, strength, 10k steps a day, and a healthy food intake - hence why I firmly believed people didn’t need self care, they needed balance, commitment to a healthy lifestyle, etc.
Then, I got a little out of balance in the first part of 2018 (insane work travel and ACL surgery are apparently my breaking point, noted). My anxiety was taking over, I wasn’t happy with work, and everything was suffering as a result. Happiness, relationships, work. Everything.
I don’t say this often (as my wife will happily point out), but (I think) I was wrong. This fall, I was at my lowest weight since middle school (don’t worry, I was a substantial 5’ 8” middle schooler). Part of me was saying, “you gave birth to twins and tore your ACL in the last few years and you are killing it, without that much effort... life is good.” Another part of me was struggling. I desperately just wanted to just “be,” be fulfilled, be content, etc. Just be grateful for and find joy in every moment I was afforded. But I wasn’t. I was caught up in all sorts of new anxieties. My whole life I battled my body and eating disorders and just when that war was coming to smooth and quiet close (not including a skirmish here and there, of course), a whole host of new battles sprung. I had always thought, man, if I could just love me (to be clear, read that as: be “skinny”) I would be so happy and carefree. Turns out, there’s always something, if you let it.
Maybe there was more to this self-care idea? (Genuine question, to be clear, not rhetorical.)
I fell in love with the practice of yoga in high school, I don’t think I was self-aware enough then to realize how calming it was, and the degree to which it offered me a rare opportunity to be present and practice mindfulness. Ever since, I’ve envied those who prioritize it, but never have myself because of the importance I place on high intensity cardio, and yoga just doesn’t feed that need for me, regardless of its other benefits. This past month I committed to finding a way to practice yoga more regularly, and have been doing a 10 minute flow every morning before I meditate.
I posted a picture of me on instagram (and in my last blog post) in late summer having had mediated for five mornings straight, and was already finding a new sense of contentedness (and was pushing the app I use on anyone and everyone who would listen). That streak is not still going (I think it broke around 50 - and yes, I was briefly devastated), but I have meditated at least five times a week since then - finding a way to co-exist with my anxiety in a way I didn't think possible.
Here, today, I’m starting into my fourth week and proud of myself. In fact, I took this photo in all kinds of love with my newfound yoga routine and the calm coming with it. I’m still a little skittish at the term “self-care,” but I have come around on the idea that taking care of yourself is more than just an outwardly healthy appearance. It also takes different levels of intentionality and means something different for everyone (but in all transparency, I do indeed color code my morning routines as light purple for "self-care" - per my key - in my passion planner... once type-A, always type-A). For me I needed to not just love my body and live a healthy lifestyle, but also be content with my place in the world (including friends, family, professional title), and find happiness and joy in doing my job.
Per my last post, I figured out what was in my locus of control, made a list, and have chipped away at it, week after week, month after month. Here I am, still far from "there," but plugging along and finding more and more peace and happiness. I’m reading daily, brushing up on other languages, working out, getting my steps, happy with and finding joy in my current roles in life, and yes, as my wife tells everyone, waking up to a “sunrise” lamp with birds chirping. I’m the healthiest, inside and out, mind, body, and soul that I have been in years (ever?), and grateful for a wife that’s been nothing but supportive (although finds my new attitude and lifestyle borderline comical given my extreme type-A personality).
Cheers to realizing I can be wrong, in fact, and that I don't have it all figured out. Grateful and humbled.
The idea of “self-care” is all the rage these days, or at least it seems to be (based on the notebook section at Target - where I do all my trendiness research data). The idea of treating it (self-care) as a separate entity from day to day life has always turned me off from the concept entirely. I had always thought “self-care” meant exercise, strength, 10k steps a day, and a healthy food intake - hence why I firmly believed people didn’t need self care, they needed balance, commitment to a healthy lifestyle, etc.
Then, I got a little out of balance in the first part of 2018 (insane work travel and ACL surgery are apparently my breaking point, noted). My anxiety was taking over, I wasn’t happy with work, and everything was suffering as a result. Happiness, relationships, work. Everything.
I don’t say this often (as my wife will happily point out), but (I think) I was wrong. This fall, I was at my lowest weight since middle school (don’t worry, I was a substantial 5’ 8” middle schooler). Part of me was saying, “you gave birth to twins and tore your ACL in the last few years and you are killing it, without that much effort... life is good.” Another part of me was struggling. I desperately just wanted to just “be,” be fulfilled, be content, etc. Just be grateful for and find joy in every moment I was afforded. But I wasn’t. I was caught up in all sorts of new anxieties. My whole life I battled my body and eating disorders and just when that war was coming to smooth and quiet close (not including a skirmish here and there, of course), a whole host of new battles sprung. I had always thought, man, if I could just love me (to be clear, read that as: be “skinny”) I would be so happy and carefree. Turns out, there’s always something, if you let it.
Maybe there was more to this self-care idea? (Genuine question, to be clear, not rhetorical.)
I fell in love with the practice of yoga in high school, I don’t think I was self-aware enough then to realize how calming it was, and the degree to which it offered me a rare opportunity to be present and practice mindfulness. Ever since, I’ve envied those who prioritize it, but never have myself because of the importance I place on high intensity cardio, and yoga just doesn’t feed that need for me, regardless of its other benefits. This past month I committed to finding a way to practice yoga more regularly, and have been doing a 10 minute flow every morning before I meditate.
I posted a picture of me on instagram (and in my last blog post) in late summer having had mediated for five mornings straight, and was already finding a new sense of contentedness (and was pushing the app I use on anyone and everyone who would listen). That streak is not still going (I think it broke around 50 - and yes, I was briefly devastated), but I have meditated at least five times a week since then - finding a way to co-exist with my anxiety in a way I didn't think possible.
Here, today, I’m starting into my fourth week and proud of myself. In fact, I took this photo in all kinds of love with my newfound yoga routine and the calm coming with it. I’m still a little skittish at the term “self-care,” but I have come around on the idea that taking care of yourself is more than just an outwardly healthy appearance. It also takes different levels of intentionality and means something different for everyone (but in all transparency, I do indeed color code my morning routines as light purple for "self-care" - per my key - in my passion planner... once type-A, always type-A). For me I needed to not just love my body and live a healthy lifestyle, but also be content with my place in the world (including friends, family, professional title), and find happiness and joy in doing my job.Per my last post, I figured out what was in my locus of control, made a list, and have chipped away at it, week after week, month after month. Here I am, still far from "there," but plugging along and finding more and more peace and happiness. I’m reading daily, brushing up on other languages, working out, getting my steps, happy with and finding joy in my current roles in life, and yes, as my wife tells everyone, waking up to a “sunrise” lamp with birds chirping. I’m the healthiest, inside and out, mind, body, and soul that I have been in years (ever?), and grateful for a wife that’s been nothing but supportive (although finds my new attitude and lifestyle borderline comical given my extreme type-A personality).
Cheers to realizing I can be wrong, in fact, and that I don't have it all figured out. Grateful and humbled.