Hello blog friends, I’ve been having quite a roller-coaster couple of weeks. Â The actual calendar events aren’t all that impressive, but my moods have been swinging like the 20s. Â Yes, it is possible that I am entering that phase that starts with ‘men’ and ends with ‘pause’, though honestly it’s been on my mind to unpause men… ahhh, well. Â Hormones out of whack? Maybe. Â A bit extra chunky for what my body is comfortable with? Â Yeah, definitely. Â Frustrated with myself for not doing any kind of bike commuting for almost a year? Â Yes, that as well. Â Feeling sad and mopey and missing my lover and feeling like it will never get better again? Â Ohgodyessosomuch.
What did I do about it? Â I moaned and complained on Facebook, I think I ranted on Twitter, too. Â I vented and curled up on Roxy’s lap for comfort (in a virtual sense) — we’ve been taking turns, she’s not having any Barbie Dream Picnic either. Â I’ve had some wretched days and weekends where I felt the bank of my energy and passion overdrawn. Â I’ve felt as though the flesh container of my body was so full of toxic foul moods and held-back feelings and the stress of HOLDING-IT-ALL-TOGETHER-FOR-EVERYONE-ELSE that I was sure I’d burst open and it would all finally be over.
But I recovered each time. Â With huge helpings of Roxy’s warm, loving, encouraging words. Â Through the sweet giggling antics of my three year old and the wiser-than-her-age compassion and empathy of my 12 year old. Â Through the echo-sounding of my friends letting me know through the fog of self-recrimination and doubt that I wasn’t alone.
And then I decided to do something about it.
A friend suggested a hormone test, to see if I’d entered the land of even wonkier hormonal surge and fail, but I’ll wait for my annual to broach that subject with my NP. Â I decided to first tackle two items from my list of self loathing failures: Â my weight and the lack of exercise in my life. Â My weight bothers me not because I think I should have some svelte, hunky 20-somethings body (a little young for me, most likely), but because I have been very dis-eased lately. Â I can feel in my back and my joints that I need to drop and tighten. Â I’ve had some moments recently where I didn’t need a cuff to tell me my blood pressure had risen to alarming levels. Â Unease in my body leads to lack of confidence, discomfort in my body leads to poor sleep, and all of that leads to deep holes of black depression that I end up feeling I deserve to be left in.
So, I’ve started biking to work again. Â Not all the way, it’s 10 miles each way to my current consulting gig so I’m doing my own park and ride. Â I drive to my company’s office and bike the remaining 3.7 miles. Â Well, I’ve done it once so far, and will do it again tomorrow and hope to get into a rhythm of 3-4 times a week. Â When I was in the heyday of bike commuting a few years ago, it was 4.5 miles each way, so this is very doable. Â Once it gets easy, I’ll choose a new starting point. Â Eventually it becomes a matter of time, as in, how much time can I give myself to get to and from work, considering how busy my family is these days.
I started reclaiming my biking legs this past weekend, with a 5 mile loop with Â my big kid. Â We rode to a local bike store to pick up a biking map of the county, then over to Big Tom’s for excellent milkshakes, then to Twister Donuts for treats to bring home. Â It was nice, and I did better than I had expected, which gave me confidence to tackle the ride on Monday. Â The bonus was spending time with my big kid, who I adore (except when she’s acting like a teenager, which is more and more frequently). Â She’s so much like me, sometimes talking to her is like talking to a younger version of me.
And that’s my home remedy for the deep, dark, stinky, suffocating blues that have been dogging me lately. Â It’s not a complete cure, I had trouble sleeping last night because my brain decided to obsess on negative shit, and got more and more bizarre about what it threw at me. Â When I did sleep, I had mean sad nightmares. Â So this morning was hard again, feeling physically drained and on the edge of tears. Â And, once again, Roxy helped me up out of the hole. Even though she was also on the edge of tears. Â I’m a lucky boy, that’s for damned sure.
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