Comfortable ruts

A couple of weeks ago, a dear friend of ours lost her battle with leukaemia. She was 27. A beautiful, kind, caring soul who I am missing dreadfully already.

The funeral was on the Thursday, with a memorial on the Friday and, by the end of the week, I was drained of all energy and emotion.

Until the next moment when I remember what had happened and I cried again. It was a lot like that all week. And I’m let it just be because I needed to feel – need to feel – and let myself remember the good times (which make me laugh and then cry) and remember the tough times (which make me sad that she went through it and then glad that she’s not suffering anymore).

And the thing I keep coming back to is that ultimate cliché – life is too short.

And it is. It’s too short to be stuck in a rut, or in a comfort zone, depending on what you call it. Because they’re both the same thing in the end.

It’s hard to make changes. It’s terrifying actually. The Boy has just resigned from his safe job to go out on his own, which is terrifying in many ways, but I’m so proud of him for doing it. Yes, there will be tough times and I will learn to be industrious with tuna, rice and beans but it’s better than living life with regrets and in fear of change.

I told a friend during the week and her response surprised me. She called me naïve and went on about how we have commitments and responsibilities and yes, life is short but we’re adults now and we can’t just chuck it in.

And she’s right. I’m not that naïve to think that we can just chuck it all in and go travel or give our money away to charity and live in a shack on the beach. But at the same time, I think sometimes we need to close our eyes and take a leap, because thinking too long and hard about it can mean we end up doing nothing at all.

I’m not making a resolution or setting a challenge because I know myself and those tend to get forgotten very quickly. All I’m doing is trying to be aware, to challenge my preconceptions, to push a little harder, try something new and maybe learn something about myself and my limits. Because my rut is no longer comfortable.

Needling myself

This week I’ve been sticking myself with needles in the hope of teaching my body to do what it’s supposed to do fertility-wise. For someone who normally dreads blood tests and needles in general, this whole process has forced me to get a helluva lot more comfortable with needles!

Saturday night was the first night of my self-administered injections and I wasn’t looking forward to it. I’d practiced at the nurse’s office on a plastic pin cushion but I figured that it wasn’t a true representation – a) it isn’t skin and b) it isn’t MY skin. So while it LOOKED easy, I was slightly queasy with anticipation. The Boy had also practiced but considering that he turns white at the thought of getting a blood test (thanks to one terrible experience as a kid I think), I didn’t want him in charge of any needles. I value my life thank you very much.

9:30 came around and it was TIME. I locked in the metered dose, attached the needle to the epipen-type contraption and it was GO. 

And then it was over. Seriously, 15 seconds after sticking the tiny, thin needle in and pressing down, it was over. 

What a frigging let-down.

(What’s more of a let-down is the fact that the first 6 days of shots didn’t get my body working at all but that’s another post altogether.)

This got me thinking about how many other things in my life I catastrophise and get myself into a state about when, in reality, it’s really not a big deal. It’s so easy to build something up in your mind to such a point that it is no longer a stepping stone through to something greater, but rather a wall without any toe-holds to climb over. 

If nothing else, this process is teaching me that I can get through more than I think I can. That, inevitably, it is my MIND that needs to be needled into realising that everything can be dealt with and nothing is the enemy. Not even a needle or 10. 

“It’s been a long time, been a long time yeah yeah”

Over the years, I’ve shifted away from this little blog because I decided that I didn’t like the narrow focus I’d constructed for myself. I was all about the FITNESS and the FOOD and the DIET and once I got engaged and started moving around the world again, I didn’t know how to blog about other stuff. So I abandoned this space and moved on to other blogs that died slow, sad deaths too. 

I lost the ability to be honest and true in my writing. I started writing for everyone else, for an audience, but, if I’m being honest (which is the whole point of this post), I never started blogging for everyone else. I started blogging for myself. 

Where am I now? 2014. Married, living in Melbourne, Australia, trying to get pregnant, starting a new job shortly just as my husband is planning on starting his own business. There’s a lot on my plate and I need my own space, so here we are. I doubt I even have any readers anymore, but if anyone finds me here, welcome to my little corner of the world. I can’t promise coherent posts or a coherent message. You’re not going to get sponsored reviews and posts coming out of the wazoo. There’ll be some worky work stuff, some meal planning, some how-the-hell-are-we-going-to-live-on-one-salary stuff, some damn-I-hate-fertility-treatment stuff. But one thing I can promise you is that it’s going to be HONEST and REAL. 

Here’s a coffee and a comfy chair – welcome.

Dealing with the motivation drop

It’s inevitable.

You know the moment I’m talking about – when, despite doing well for however long on your eating well and being active goal, you lose any motivation. You get rebellion in its place. Instead of choosing the apple for a snack, you brazenly pick up a chocolate bar a the checkout, knowing that you don’t really need or want it but darn it, you deserve it. You go out for dinner and you deserve to order the massive pasta dish, or chips on the side, or dessert. You’ve been working hard, you deserve it.

And so begins the back slide (no, not backside, although that grows too). You wake up after a big night of eating out and you’re still stuffed, but instead of listening to your body, you keep eating. And who wants to work out on a stuffed belly? Not you, so you take a day off. After all, you deserve it.

Soon enough, you misplace your gym card and your hand weights in front of the TV are gathering dust. Your treat meals go back to being your regular meals and any pretext of deserving it goes out the window.

This usually happens for me after a month because I start seeing scale results quickly as I drop water weight, then start ignoring the scale and focussing on my clothes, which fit so much better. I feel great! So obviously, I lose motivation.


Yeah, that makes no sense to me either. Surely when I’m doing well I should be hella motivated? You’d think but alas not. This is the time I have to fight to stay on track, to convince myself that I deserve better than junk food and sitting on the couch, that my body deserves to be active and fed well. Last week was not a good week eating-wise (other than the fact I ate lots of yummy food) and I ended up sitting more than moving, but it’s okay. This week will be better because I’m not letting the motivation drop Have any more of my energy.

I’m trying to focus on following through more this year and actually doing all the things I think of. Like making more friends and going out more. Like exercising more and writing more. Focusing my efforts instead of surfing the web or flicking channels while propped up on the couch. Television can wait. My health can't.

How are you going with your goals so far?

Seeing is believing (when it comes to progress)

I may have been quiet about it, but I’ve been getting to the gym really regularly for the past 3 weeks, determined to spend more time getting my body in shape and dropping the stealth almost-20lbs I’ve gained over the past few months.

I’ve been focused on weights again after a long time away from the lifting and I’ve also been determined not to get frustrated by slow weight loss. It’s funny how you can know that slow weight loss is normal and that week 2 weight loss never matches week 1. You can know but still want to see the immediate results. As much as I tell The Boy not to get frustrated, I find myself getting frustrated and then get annoyed at getting frustrated. Luckily, I’ve managed to stay pretty much on track for almost a month, so bonus!

I know that I’ve been feeling better and stronger again but I haven’t wanted to shout it from the rooftops yet, since I figured I haven’t lost much yet and it’s not that noticeable. But I was wrong! I had a session with my trainer today and he hasn’t seen me in a month since he’s been away. He immediately noticed that I was stronger and got super excited, pulling over the 12kg kettlebells and 10kg weights instead of the lighter weights he’s used to needing. He kept asking if things were too heavy and I think he was expecting me to complain but I was on fire. Plus he noticed I’d dropped weight and he was massively impressed. I walked out of the session feeling awesomely strong, massively fatigued and tempted to lie down on the side of the road and just sleep.

I didn’t, don’t worry. Instead, I walked/shuffled the 15 minute distance home, munched on a muesli bar and basked in the glow of feeling stronger everyday. Yes, I’m sore and tired and really want to nap but I’ve picked up some freelance work so that’s not on the cards. But I feel awesome and motivated, even if the scale is only moving slowly. Muscles, it’s nice to meet you again!

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A new year, a clean slate


Image via Wikipedia

I’ve fallen off the wagon big time but I’ve been getting back on slowly.

Since being made redundant, I’ve been going to the gym more regularly and I’m back to lifting weights, however puny these weights are now, since I have no strength left. There’s something rewarding about your muscles being sore after a good workout. And it’s giving me some structure to my days, which is good.

I’m currently the heaviest I’ve been for 4 years and I’m back at my original starting weight when I started this blog. Quite sad about that really. I maintained 20 pounds lost for a good 3 years and then bam! But nevermind, 2012 is going to be a good year.

It’s going to be the year that I get back to regular gym attendance and regular weight lifting.

It’s going to be the year I get back on course with my eating.

It’s also going to be the year that I get back to writing more regularly and focus on the creative side for a bit more. I’ve said this before but I’m determined this year.

I’m also going to be a more regular presence online so be prepared to read more ramblings (if anyone is still actually reading).

I hope 2012 is a good year for everyone. It seems that 2011 was a bit of a joke for many of my friends and I think we’re all due a good year now. You with me?

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A day I could have done without

Today I woke up with a knot in my stomach. We had an emergency all staff meeting this morning and from the way things have been going, it could only have been bad news.

And it was.

Today, I was made redundant. Come the end of the day on December 16, I will no longer have a job. The first time in my life, I’m losing my job. I know I’m not the first to experience this and I won’t be the last but I could have done without it at all.

I know in my heart that this will lead to bigger and better things. I know that I’ll find something else, be it another full-time role in publishing or something a bit different, because I’m open to something different too. But it’s still really unsettling. I feel like I’ve been hit by a steam-roller. A bit dazed and confused and angry.

I am angry for a lot of reasons. I know that it’s not easy on my bosses. They’re the business owners, this is their dream and it’s falling apart a bit, right in front of them. I feel for them. But I’m still angry that I’m in this position at this time of the year, when jobs are not exactly falling off trees. I have to resign myself to at least 6-8 weeks off work and that makes me angry.

But I’m not wallowing much. I’ve updated my resume and sent it out to a few contacts already and they’re on the job for me . I’ll email a few recruitment agencies in the morning and I’ll find something. I know I will. In the meantime, I’ll keep working (since our collective last day is December 16 for some reason) and writing and cooking and possibly working out (since I really haven’t been doing that much). Hopefully this hit by a truck feeling will go away at some point and the low-level panic of omg I’m unemployed I need a job STAT! will follow shortly. We’re lucky enough not to be in a perilous financial state so I shouldn’t be panicking but I am. It’s low-level but it’s there.

I’ll be all right. I know I will. I will, right?