Of forgiveness, moving on, and loving myself
Monday, July 04, 2016
I will never be perfect. Nobody will ever be perfect.
Yet for most of my life that's what I shot for. Perfection. And, obviously, I could never achieve it. And I hated myself for that.
It took me a long time to put words unto it, to understand what I was doing to myself. I remember having a long conversation with my dad about failures when I was 16 and severely depressed and that's when I started to realize I was a perfectionist.
To quote Nia Shanks (Lift Like A Girl), I am not a recovering perfectionist. I gave up on perfection because I was killing myself trying to reach it. In almost every aspect of my life; at school, then at my different jobs; in my love life; with my family and friends; then with my health, fitness and weight. I was my biggest enemy. I was calling myself a failure daily. No matter what I did, it was never good enough.
Recently I've been a little bit more loose with my good habits. I moved to a new town a month ago and everything changed; I went from living on my own to living with my boyfriend; to seeing him once every other week to seeing him everyday. I started an entirely new job in a field where I know just about nothing (I always worked office jobs in accounting and most recently in a law office; now I'm still at an office job, but at a grain elevator, and it's quite different in every aspect). I moved away from the familiarity of my little Saskatchewan town, where I'd lived for only 16 months, for a bigger place of 11,000 people (instead of 1,200) where I knew absolutely no one excluding my boyfriend and his parents. Even the weather is different - sunnier, drier, windier. The water is different. My apartment is very different. Even my gym is the complete opposite of what I was used to.
Again, and unconsciously, I expected a lot from myself. I expected to hit the gym 3 times a week just like before, and just about right after moving. I expected to keep all of my good habits current and to do even better on them. I expected to be perfectly good at my new job even though I know absolutely nothing about it and wasn't even provided with a job description (I didn't even know my JOB TITLE when I started on my first day). I expected that our new cohabitation would go perfectly fine right from the beginning. I expected to make new friends right away and pick up my social life right where I'd left it in my old town.
None of that happened. I struggled with the work; I struggled with the gym; I struggled with sharing my space after not doing so for almost a year. I struggled with suddenly living in a city again. I struggled with lack of energy and lack of motivation. I struggled with focusing and keeping up.
It would have been so easy to give up and feel like crap for an extra couple months before "going back on the wagon". I don't believe in the wagon. That's why instead of focusing on so much at the same time, I switched my focus on a few things that seemed the most urgent: self-care, rest, and getting settled into my new place.
That meant cutting down on workout times and that's fine. That also meant cutting down on time I dedicated to cooking and groceries. And that's fine. I ate out more than usual, and I took shortcuts. I barely reached 1000 fitness minutes for June, when I usually reach that quite easily. I had more days without working out than any this year. And that's totally fine.
It's been a month and I'm way better. Guess what? Last Friday I skipped the gym. I felt absolutely exhausted and decided to sleep in on my day off, since it was a holiday. Then when I got up, I regretted. Because I was actually looking forward to the gym. But that's totally fine. What is done is done. Lesson learned.
I had a nice weekend at my friend Eva's place back in my old town. Eva is in her 70's and she's really awesome. She's also the only one I kept contact with in my old town. Her son from Regina was also there with his wife and two adorable kids. I rested the whole weekend. We ate fairly fine, but I didn't exercise much. Again, that's okay. My focus last weekend was rest. My time of the month was coming and it hit pretty hard this month, so I needed the extra sleep. I even took a nap on Saturday afternoon, something I just about never do. I read a lot, and I got devoured by mosquitoes. We went to see fireworks on Friday night and that was really cool.
This morning I was back at the gym and I really enjoyed it. It helps my stress a lot. I've been having car problems since Wednesday and car problems always stress me immensely. It's also the first time I have mechanical problems with my car (outside of a couple blown tires, I bought it new in July 2012 so it's only 4 years old) so it's hard on my heart, lol.
So I've learned to forgive myself and move on. I found it's very important. Instead of looking at my body negatively, I learned to appreciate it. My body can do so much - walk, run, bike, lift weights, swim, climb, jump. And things that a lot of people take for granted such as cooking, reading, watching TV... I'm independent, I can live most of my life without help, I'm strong and powerful. This morning I was calling myself a warrior as I was struggling with the last pushup of my set. "Come on warrior. One last pushup." And it felt pretty great.