Long, long ago, stairs were fun, an unexpected slide from one level to another all there ready to bump down on your butt. Then stairs got scary, especially the ones that are simply hanging steps with no backing, like the stairs down to my parents’ basement. ANYTHING could have stood behind those stairs to grab a little girl’s ankles. Now stairs are something like a medieval torture apparatus. They still hit me in my butt, just not nearly as fun as when I used to slide down the steps. No. Now I feel the pull and burn. When did this happen? I ask myself. When did it go from fun slide time to torture exercise?
Sometime between 5 and 50.
I planned to sleep in this morning. My hard walk and stairs climbing yesterday left me utterly exhausted by evening. Ten p.m. and I HAD to say goodnight or just let myself fall asleep in my chair. But by 5 this morning I was tossing and turning, coming to enough to realize I had a full bladder, and coughing as my nose seemed to clog up all at once on me. So up to pee, to blow my nose, and to do something other than tussle with my bedcovers.
Today is my new language class. Would have liked to go in fully rested, bright eyed and bushy tailed, but no. It’ll be the usual: slightly out of it because I was up too early and jacked up on caffeine. At least I’m too tired right now to worry about whether or not I’ll like my new instructor, whether I’ll get along with the other student, etc. etc. Screw all that. My goal is reset to simply stay awake and alert for the entire lesson. Not even to speak Dutch; just bleeding stay awake. That’s a real step down on ambition.
It’s been hard to not feel cut off or like a shut in. I’m either hiding from the sun and heat or resting from exercise most days. Outside I hear the world going on: traffic and children, dogs and trains, music and life in general. I feel too out of it to even try to go out and be part of it. Keep telling myself in another week or so my energy will rebound and I’ll get more energized post work-out than exhausted. It’s hard to get there in the meantime. Hard to allow so much to slip by outside my window without even getting up to look. Not that I’d have the energy to lift the curtain to look even IF I got up out of my chair.
Doesn’t help that my posts don’t get much notice. I’m NOT fishing for comments or likes here. I’m just making an observation. Somehow having over 100 followers yet having no one comment on my posts just serves to underline my isolation right now. I’m screaming at the abyss. Perhaps that’s fitting. Maybe all our deepest nightmares are personal and can’t be easily understood by others.
Or maybe I’m just being a wanker.
Discipline, discipline, discipline. My feet are set on this path, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to change directions NOW. Part of me is unsettled by knowing that female doctors have told me to get out and walk (or climb some stairs) for quite some time now but as soon as I heard it from a MALE it got cemented into my brain. Maybe it was just the right time, right place. Maybe it wasn’t. I tend to think it wasn’t. Deep down, I’ll admit to finding my physiotherapist very attractive. It’s utterly silly of me, I know, and I would NEVER act on it or mention it to him. Yet I find a part of myself wanting to be attractive to him – and I wonder if that part of me makes me cling onto his words more than my other doctors. Am I really that shallow? I’m afraid at least a little bit of me is.
Whatever. I’m exercising like I should. Watching what I eat. Writing even tho I fear no one gives a damn. Wishing I was 20 years younger.
…I’ll just let that last statement pass me by……Goddamn, it’s a long train…….
*sigh* Right. I am what I am. Can’t make any progress if I can’t accept where I’m starting from.
I’m out of shape, but not obese. I’m not 30, but I’m not 70, either. I’m not fluent in Dutch but I’m not a complete ignoramus. Middle of the pack in just about everything across the board. Just where I said I was uncomfortable. Damn! I wasn’t kidding about THAT. I am VERY uncomfortable here.
Fitting, perhaps, that I feel alone right now because I’m not in competition with anyone. That’s different. With my brother NOT in my language class, I’ll just be me with no one to compare me to. Without my sister here to reinforce my negative body image I’ve no bloated walking mirror to look at and see myself as fatter than or slimmer than. I don’t know that I’ve ever done this. It’s all stripped down and right at the core it’s only me. How fast I choose to move, how quick I can do things all on my own. There’s no markers in my life to tell me if I’m making any progress. I’m not allowing them. No scales or measuring tapes for my body, no tests to measure my understanding or language comprehension. I’m just floating in the goo, waving my arms about and not having any idea if I’m making any progress…because everything I learned to judge my progress on was based on competition. It was always the grades, the scales, the amount of money in your bank account that defined me as a person. That’s what I grew up with. That’s what I’ve been trying to shake since day one.
I’m not sure when I learned that lesson. Probably sometime between 5 and 50.