Embracing the Breakdown

Several weeks ago, I woke up one morning and I couldn't get out of bed.  It wasn't that I didn't want to, that I was tired or comfortable, it was that I could not physically summon the ability to move.  When I thought about how hard it was going to be to walk to the shower ten feet away, I wanted to cry.

This isn't the first time it's happened.  I'm a busy person.  Much of my life revolves around service to others; I pretty consistently take on responsibilities and projects that push me to that point of exhaustion where I've been running at a sleep and energy deficit for several weeks, until I take a long weekend and just hermit/crash when it's convenient.  Generally, when I wake up too exhausted to move, my response is, "I have to get up, because people are depending on me."  So I do.  I summon the will and I *force* myself through it.  I drop things physically and intellectually, I'm short-tempered, I'm barely effective at all the things I need to do, but dammit I got up and did the thing.  I've spent years moving from crisis to crisis like that, always reacting, rarely acting, never planning.  I'm Good In A Crisis; it's a fundamental part of my identity.

Over the last couple of years, though, I've been doing a lot of work on self-care and healthy life patterns, trying to build sustainable habits.  My ability to 'power through' is a good trait, but it's not a lifestyle.  I'm also Good When There Is No Crisis and I'm not using that skill set enough.  So this time, I said, "I can't get up.  People are depending on me.  They're depending on me to be whole and healthy.  They're depending on me to be here in 10 years to help with their kids.  They're depending on me to do things *later* that I can't do if I don't rest *now*."  So I called in sick and stayed home, even though it screwed up some plans.  I slept another 6 hours.  I ate some good food.  And then I took serious stock of where my energy was going; that was pretty hard to look at.

On a sort of autopilot, I'd set up my weekdays as: wake up at 7:30 already late and tired, struggle out of bed, get to work late, stay at work long after hours sometimes working but sometimes just fucking around online, maybe work out and maybe don't, eat dinner around 10pm, get to bed around 2 or maybe 3, repeat.  My weekends were either exhausted collapsing, frenetic social activity, or projects to help friends.  I'd been putting off "get some real relaxation and have some real fun," so far into the future that I couldn't actually see when it would happen.  I'd barely gotten to spend significant time with the friends who feed my soul, and only managed to do so by 'stealing' time and energy from other commitments.

I was still, in some ways, recovering from major surgery.  I'd gotten past the actual physical recovery, but in trying to catch back up on organising the house and doing my workouts and finishing my projects, I'd been running about double.  I also put, for a variety of reasons, a tremendous amount of emotional labor in over the winter, without really honoring the degree to which it had taxed me.  I had started to have severe muscle weakness and facial tics, and had gotten dizzy a couple of times, all from a combination of stress and depleted resources.

Understand, no part of this was unfamiliar territory.  I've been running through various iterations of "Power through until it's convenient to collapse, no matter what you have to burn," for probably the last 20 years, doubly so since the anemia added in a new variable.  I just finally hit a point where that practice became incompatible with my changing attitudes on self-care and sustainable habits.

This also shouldn't sound like unfamiliar territory to most of my friends, who also power through more than not, who overbook and overcommit and make it all come together through the power of coffee and sarcasm, and who run the razor's edge of holding it all together.  Birds of a feather and all that, you know?

At first, I started to look at how I needed to change in the nebulous 'soon' and not at immediate change.  Part of my assessment, though, was an understanding that I had to stop pushing through the now to get to when it would be convenient because I wasn't making lasting change.  So, I set myself solid goals:  minimum calorie and protein consumption, minimum nightly and average sleep requirements, hard limits on when I leave work, a defined bedtime, a specific limit on new projects and physical activities.  None of these is a particularly revolutionary goal: they're the things healthy people do.  And I set one other:  if this isn't better in a couple of weeks of rest and self-care, it's doctor time.

Overall, I did pretty well.  I still missed a couple of bedtimes and had a couple of unnecessary late nights at work, and I have a seriously hard time cramming as much protein as the fitness tracker says I need into my diet, but the limits I'd established set a much more reasonable pace where I didn't feel like I always had to catch up.  I'm feeling much steadier and more balanced.  My planning ahead has stopped entirely revolving around what I HAVE to do, and started including what I WANT to do.  I'm comfortable making a note of it to mention to the doc when I see him next time, instead of actively scheduling a visit.

More importantly, though, by allowing the breakdown even when it wasn't convenient, I hope to break the pattern of 'push past exhaustion, crash, run to catch everything I dropped when I crashed, start the push toward exhaustion again'.  I'm not changing who I am:  I'm going to take on responsibilities.  I'm going to take on projects.  I have a loving tribe of friends who rely on me, and I rely on them.  I will continue to be Good In A Crisis because I don't really know how else to be.  All of this is important to me, and none of it is anything I actually want to give up.

What I *am* changing is the habit of letting non-emergencies pull from my reserves.  There have been too many times in my life when the only thing keeping me from crashing was the sheer number of people I'd let down if I did, and far too many times when the refusal to let anyone down in the short term meant letting everyone down in the long term.  I've had just enough situations in the last few years where having just a little reserve made the difference, and it's finally sinking through my head that I either need to give up the part of my psyche that serves and supports others, or put in actual work to build the reserves that will let me do it without cannibalizing my own health.

Uniforming My Ally

I have been some form of 'overweight' for my entire adult life.  For the first couple of decades out of high school, I agonised about my body, how to make it thinner, how to make it prettier, how to squish and scrape and starve it into acceptability.

As a Fat Girl, I convinced myself I deserved only frumpy, uninteresting, practical clothes.  I fooled myself that I wanted a 'classical, practical style' when what I really meant was "I don't feel comfortable wearing clothes that attract attention."  For years, my 'look' was a pair of sturdy jeans or cargo shorts, a solid-color tee for work and a funny tee for play.  Dresses were reserved, conservative.  Long skirts, dark colors, to the point that at least one set of co-workers assumed I was Pentecostal based on my style of dress.  My one concession to color and vibrancy was a collection of tie-dye dresses bought at festivals, all long and full-skirted.

I envied those other Fat Girls who wore the pretty dresses, who always looked nice and put together, who rocked the bright colors and the feminine lines.  I told myself, "Well, when I get thinner, when I look better, when I reach the goal, I can dress like I mean it, too."  I also envied them their comfort with their bodies, their ability to adorn and joyfully decorate something all social pressure pushed them to hide behind a sweatshirt or baggy pants.  A smaller voice whispered, "If I ever stop resenting my body, maybe I'll dress nice BEFORE I get thin."

Clothes shopping in America as a woman of my size is an exercise in demoralization and disappointment.  You see something lovely and fun, you envision having it, and you find out that in no universe does it exist in your size.  The brick-and-mortar stores that do carry things in your size are reinforcing the frumpy theme, or presenting you with 'fashion' garments in a style three years expired and a pattern ripped from the finest hotel wallpaper.  Online shopping's made it both better and worse, because now a dedicated shopper can struggle through ten times as many disappointments to find the few pearls and hope that the reviews are correct about 'size runs true'.  There are shops that offer better sizing and options, but they can be both hard to find and expensive, and the ability to Google search opens up a huge range of opportunities to find that for some people 8 is still a 'plus size'.

I spent a lot of time not wanting to risk that 'runs true' should have said 'runs small', and convincing myself that jeans and solid color tees and long full black skirts were a perfectly respectable style, until a friend introduced me to a site that takes your measurements and sends you a custom dress, and offers dozens of styles, colors, patterns, and fabrics.

This recommendation fell on exceedingly fertile ground.  Some five years ago, I wrote about my body as my ally, about embracing and loving myself with my own best interests as my highest priority, and I've been trying to live that since.  I've discarded the idea that my body needs to be a specific weight for me to be healthy and happy, and shifted my body goals to functional things I want to be able to do.

The health trials of my last couple of years, and the attendant weight gains and shifts, have really taxed that resolve.  Random abdominal expansion due to fibroids, plus exhaustion due to anemia and energy loss, have left me struggling to reach a space of peace with how I look and feel.  I was down to wearing broomstick skirts I bought at festivals, and a collection of black t-shirts, because so few of my clothes still fit and buying more was emotionally devastating.

But, you see, at my core I love all things that speak of luxury and the personal touch.  I couldn't pass up a dress made just for me, my own dress chosen and sewn as if I had a private seamstress.  Just one, I thought, a nice pretty dress for my wedding, that's an occasion that deserves a dress just for you, right?

So my then-fiance took my measurements for me, and I chose my dress and sent off my numbers and prepared myself for disappointment.  When it arrived, I put on my dress nervously, to find that it fit perfectly and it was so pretty and so comfortable.  The deep V neckline, though, mandated a new bra.  Off I went to the Fancy Bra Store, where they fit you and help you choose, because it's my wedding, right?  I deserve a special bra for my wedding!

It's easy to shout down the demons that tell you that you don't deserve to have nice or special things, when it's only for one occasion.  Shut up, Traitor Brain, I'm the BRIDE you know and the BRIDE can have nice things.  Not me, but this alter ego I get to wear for one day.  And sometimes you can use an alter ego as cover to sneak into an entirely new way of managing some part of your life.

Once I had tried it, I was hooked.  I culled out all my sad, battered, frumpy clothes.  Armed with a set of my measurements, I slowly began to replace my work wardrobe with clothes that not only fit and flattered, but *expressed*.  I looked at things and I thought, "I would look pretty in that," and if they fit into the budget and could be made in my numbers, I bought them regardless of whether they were flashy or brightly colored or Fat Girl Appropriate.

I replaced all my too-small bras with correctly-sized models, dropping band sizes and increasing cups to find that life is way better when you're not crushing your boobs into your armpits.  Over the course of the last year and a half, as budget has allowed, I've cut the amount of clothing my wardrobe in half, but every piece fits, looks good, and is comfortable.  I've cut my shoe collection by more than half, but replaced many of them with cute, whimsical flats.

Don't get me wrong.  I still have my funny tees and my cargo shorts and my carefully-amassed collection of Converse.  I'll never give up comfortable blue jeans, or oversized hoodies.  I'm not getting rid of who I am, just letting out the part I've been hiding behind this layer of fat all my life.

Somewhere along the way, I became one of the Stylish Fat Girls I've always envied.  I have a manicure with flowers on it, glasses chosen because they accentuate both the color of my eyes and the highlights in my hair, lots of socks with cheerful profanity, a variety of comfortable and interesting shoes, and a small collection of clothes that make me look and feel put-together and in control of my appearance.

When I started reframing my body as my ally, I began to try and consider the way I treat myself as "Would I treat my beloved friend this way?"  I am not indulging myself, I am outfitting my beloved friend.  I am putting a uniform on my ally, so we can keep fighting together.

The other day at the gym, two women about my size stopped me to compliment my dress.  I showed them the pockets and told them where I got it, and one of the women said, "Oh, I've been meaning to try them, but I wasn't sure...I thought I should wait until I lost some weight."  I saw in her eyes the reflection of my own struggles with 'deserve' and 'maybe someday', and I said, "No, really, do it now.  If you can afford it, do it.  Don't wait.  This has completely changed my relationship with my body and how I look at myself.  It's so worth it."

(I've left out the names of the sites I shop at, because this isn't an advertisement for them.  It's an advertisement for the idea that you should come to terms with your body as it is, and understand its shape and its needs, and adorn it joyfully no matter its size.)

A Note to the Resolutioneers

New Year's Day is upon us, and everywhere we look people are gearing up for Massive Life Change.  This year, it's gonna be different.  Really a new leaf.  Gonna save money, gonna quit smoking, gonna get fit, gonna eat right, gonna bike to work three times a week.

I don't make New Year's resolutions, but I get that for some people that particular modality works.  Fresh starts are very appealing.  I'm here to talk to you today about one of those things you're all excited about: your gym membership.

My partner and I belong to a gym, and every year the regulars grit their teeth at the arrival of The Resolutioneers.  They're on all the machines, struggling and sweating, they're filling up the pool and the locker room, they're clogging your favorite yoga class and harshing your namaste.  They swell the ranks of gym-goers for about a month, and then it tapers back to normal by the end of February.  Many of the regulars, at that point, breathe a sigh of relief.  Now, they say, it will be fine until 'swimwear season' and then again until the holidays next year.

The resolutioneers make me profoundly sad.  Not because they're inconveniencing me or crowding a space I use.  I don't mind that part so much, because they're enjoying a thing I enjoy.  I'm sad because I see them hit the gym like it owes them money, fast and fierce and intent, but never find the grip on a lasting habit.  Over the last almost-ten years of gym memberships, I've been watching the resolutioneers to try and figure out why they fail.  If you're looking for a shiny new gym, I've got a few tips for you.  I'm not a trainer, so they're not tips for working out.  I'm someone who loves the gym, so they're tips for how to become one of those.

It starts before you even begin.  A lot of people are choosing a gym the wrong way.  The absolute first consideration for a gym is "how convenient is this for me to get to?"  All other factors take second place to whether a gym is on your way to or from work, near home or the kids' daycare, convenient for a lunch break session on the elliptical.  Even the best gym is worthless if *just getting there* is a chore.  After that, you look into classes and facilities, does it have childcare, is the facility clean and well-maintained?  But first, convenience.

Then, too many of you skip the personal training sessions.  Yeah, I get it, it saves a few bucks, but most gyms offer a low-cost introductory training session, in which you're taught how to gym.  You're asked to clarify your goals, and figure out what you need to do to meet them.  You're given a tour of all the things in your gym.  You learn how to set up the weights and use them safely and responsibly.  And if your trainer is worth anything, you learn about the importance of gym etiquette.

Not understanding the basic manners of the gym is one of the greatest sources of conflict between regulars and resolutioneers, and it's one of the biggest hurdles on the path to being an active member of your gym.  If you're breaking the rules in ways that interfere with other peoples' ability to work out, they won't help you.  They won't be open and welcoming.  They'll just work around you until you go away.

Listen, we know you're new.  We know you don't know what you're doing, because we all remember what WE looked like when we were new and had no idea what we were doing.  Some of us have been doing this for a while, and we've learned helpful things we could share with you.  We won't share them if you're sitting on a machine for ten minutes checking your phone, or if you're blocking the only available treadmill while you have a conversation with a friend.  We won't share them with the person who just walked away leaving the weight bench coated in sweat.  We won't share them if you've draped your gym bag over the machine next to you, or if you leave your equipment all over the weight room floor.  Pissy and elitist?  Maybe, but maybe not.  A gym only works if everyone uses the resources cooperatively; most of us are there to work, with a limited amount of time allocated out of the day.  We don't have time to explain to five people a day why you need to wipe down the equipment after you sweat on it, or argue with you about not slamming the weights.

If someone asks you, "You need a hand with that?" or "Everything OK?" it likely is a polite way of saying "I see that you are doing this in a way that may hurt you or break the equipment and I'd like to help you not do that," or "I see that you are struggling with something I know how to do."  Most of the time the advice they have will make what you're doing feel better, smoother, and less awkward.  If it doesn't, ask one of the trainers; they're usually good about one-off questions, especially questions about not breaking things or getting hurt.

Building friendly rapport with your fellow gym-goers goes a long way to making the experience supportive.  You don't have to make small talk or have long chatty conversations at the juice bar, but you'll notice people smiling at you, exchanging friendly nods, offering advice or encouragement, and that changes the experience.  You become part of a community.

OK, so you've got a convenient gym, you've got an exercise plan, you're making friends, now what?  You've got to set and keep sustainable goals and be realistic about your capacity for gym attendance.  Every year I talk to someone who says to me, "I've come to the gym EVERY DAY for the last two weeks!!!!!" and I never see them again because they're exhausted and then they miss a day, it turns into two days, and they get demoralized by the 'failure' and give up.

The most important exercise you do at the gym is walking through the door.  Just get there.  Whether you went yesterday should have no bearing on your attendance tomorrow.  Missed a week in a row?  I guarantee you no one will judge you if you *walk back through that door*.  Missed two weeks?  Man, they don't care as long as you *walk back through that door*.  Just gonna show up and sit in the hot tub?  No one tracks you once you *walk back through that door*.

Decide how many days a week is a reasonable goal, and how many is a 'stretch' goal.  On a good week, I work out three times (plus whatever activity I do outside the gym).  Most weeks, it's two.  So I don't beat myself up if I only go twice, but I applaud myself if I make that third day.  Your reasonable schedule should be one that you can keep.  If you need to pay for classes, or work with a buddy, or designate scheduled nights to make yourself get into the habit then do it, but GO.  A hectic schedule will flex around what you make time for, I promise you.

Make sure you build a varied workout.  Use weights or weight machines to build strength, and treadmills, ellipticals, or bikes for cardio and endurance.  Balancing the work you do gives better results, and it keeps the gym from being boring.  It also helps you set goals that are unrelated to weight loss, and this is essential.  I can't tell you how much weight I've lost at the gym, but I can tell you how much my lift numbers and my cardio time have increased.

Learn to use the gym to deal with life stressors.  Bad day at work?  Move weight till you're not pissed off any more.  Family driving you nuts?  Plug in the headphones and run away for a little while.  Hyper kids?  Drop them at the activity center, then hit a yoga or a dance class while they burn off their energy.  Pack a gym bag and leave it in your car so you're always ready to stop off and work out.

Set functional rewards for practical goals.  It's best if they somehow improve your workout.  One full month of three-times-a-week attendance got me my Fitbit so I can track my workouts, and the next attendance goal will get me some new gym clothes.  A lot of people do food-based rewards, but that sets up the idea that food and exercise are enemies.  Food and exercise are friends because if you don't have calories you can't work out, and if you don't have protein you can't build muscle.

There will come a day when you really don't want to go to the gym.  You're tired from your day, you've got a headache, you're down to the crappy sports bra, whatever.  Whatever it is, it's not really a reason, just an excuse.  There's really nothing keeping you from going except that the sofa is comfy and warm and the Netflix is all queued up.  That day, you HAVE to go.  That day is your routine-brain trying to get back to what it finds comfortable, and it'll keep coming up with excuses for you.  You have to be able to tell routine-brain no.

Then there will come a day when you really want to work out and you can't.  You've twisted an ankle, or you're getting over a nasty flu, or a legit workplace crisis eats your workout time.  First, congratulations on building your workouts so deeply into your life that you *miss* them when you can't have them.  Second, set a return date and stick to it, or that two-day hiatus can turn into weeks.  The feeling of accomplishment at that 'first workout back', knowing that you took care of yourself and then came back to the goal, is wonderful.

Lastly, take advantage of your gym's amenities.  I wandered into the sauna once, and now it's how I finish every workout because it gives me a quiet, contemplative space to set that good endorphin feeling and carry it with me when I leave.  Whirlpools for sore muscles, steam rooms, dry saunas, cooldown pools, try it all and figure out what helps you walk out of the gym feeling energised and clear-headed.

I wish everyone luck and happiness on their 2017 journey, and I hope you find habits that you enjoy and benefit from!