Last month, physically, was a massive setback. Most of the first quarter of 2015 has been spent wrestling with light medical complications, stress eating, personal disinterest, and good old fashioned laziness. In the process of clawing my way out of the recent funk I’ve been in, I’ve been treating my workouts less like to-do list items and more like militaristic mandates – get the work done, no matter what.
In truth, what really helped snap me back into focus was an email update I got from Memoir resurfacing a post from last year. Finding myself in the present weighing almost 10 lbs more than I did back then, I immediately started to get back to running regularly, in addition to adding light dumbbell and body weight activities.
When I stepped on the scale this weekend, I was fluctuating between 198-202 lbs., which is halfway back to where I left off when I was on top of my game late 2014. Normally, this is where I’d put together one of those “Measurement Monday” posts, but I’m not exactly eager to begin quantifying myself since I’m still in the process of losing weight I’d already very recently lost before.
Even without the numbers, there’s still some noticeable improvements taking place. Though I’m not back to my record lightest at 192lbs, my clothes fit me closer to the way they did then rather than the last time I was in this present weight range. The dude-boobs are withering away and starting to take on the shape of pectoral muscles, I’m starting to form curvature in the gluten and getting rid of my flat “office ass”, and I’m slowly and steadily building the lump on my arms.
As long as I don’t falter on my commitment to not breaking again, it shouldn’t be before long until I’m back to the old peak shape and pushing the record further.
Since my last update, I’ve been heavily preoccupied in regaining control of my thinking, and dissecting the recent weeks to figure out why I broke this time, and in turn, better guard myself against it in the future.
As I detailed to in my last entry, I’m shadowed by a strong feeling of self-resentment – with all the self-analysis that I do, I have a constant awareness of myself, but clarity does not inherently translate into motivation and self-control. Instead, I’m mired in a frustrating mental limbo where part of me is screaming what I’m doing wrong and what I need to do to fix things, and the other part of me shrugging it off as a pointless waste of effort. The world seems to be slowly going to hell, and even if it isn’t, am I really worth trying to salvage?
And when when I ask myself what would motivate me, I couldn’t come up with an answer for myself. Living life as it is now, without the close ties to friends & family (or at least the illusion thereof), that only leaves myself as my sole source of motivation. Most everything I do is by myself, for myself, and while it’s objectively proper and logical for any self-sufficient person, for me – someone who covets the tribal sense of community and has lost it time and time again – it feels more like a sentencing to a lifetime of lonely internal isolation. What’s the point in “making something” of myself if I’m the only one who’ll benefit?
This is self-sabotaging foolish thinking that I’m laughably addicted to. Digging back further through the archives, I came across some of the more helpful entries I’ve composed: advice on resisting the inner critic, the transient nature of the “self, and more than a few proclamations of self-mastery. Yet, when push comes to shove, I’m all too eager to let all those ideals fall out the window in favor of the familiar comfort of futility and helplessness. It’s the last remaining piece of that past self that I cling on to, no matter how much I press myself to finally let it go.
But I’ve grown definitively weary of stagnating. I’m tired of writing about struggles in the present tense from a challenged perspective instead of from one of authoritative victory. This blog is supposed to be the record of a transformative story, and it’s time to move it in a new direction. No more falling victim to my own mental traps.