Status Update

Yeah, there's been some stuff to talk about, but I just haven't been wanting to sit down and write to you guys. Almost a month ago, I broke up with Pup on Valentine's Day. I didn't even realize the timing. We talked a lot, I decided on the terms of One Last Chance, and consented to stay. But he still annoys me almost every day. Over the past two weeks, he's been breaking down after listening in on a conversation between me and a friend of his apparently taught him that despite his pretenses to morality, to logic, to rationality, he doesn't know a goddamn thing. Now for the last two days, something seems to have broken, and his answer to everything is saying "I don't know"; blaming everything on his Aspergers, on overexposure to mercury, on the stimuli he's responding to... including me... and lashing out.

For about a week, I've picked up Fitocracy again; I've been planking, but not really anything else. It's too early to say whether I'll stay with it. I do manage to do it for a while even when I'm really not very into it, though... I just tend to collapse after a minute if my spirit isn't in it or I'm otherwise worn out.

I returned to Writing.com and wrote a few contest entries, the first of which won an on-site prize. The contests I'm entering have a 300 or 100 max word count, and make great practice for cutting stories down to the vital core, making them succinct. I did fall into a jealous habit of comparing my work to the other entries, though, when I didn't win. Or worse, calling into question the taste and legitimacy of the judges. I might post my work here, some of it. I might not.

I've also been doing a little bit of sketching and artwork. For a while, while things were going well with Pup, I sketched him in anime style, something I've never really managed to work in before, and it seemed to go really well. I think of, or say, something funny, and I do a quick sketch of it, sometimes.

This week, I finally got my First Aid/CPR certification, Level C. I felt noble learning the material, and it was a bit of work, mostly because Pup kept me up very late so I was doing the 8-hour courses on four and three hour nights of sleep. The course itself was fun and seems very useful. If I'm ever in an emergency situation, I think I will feel much more confident dealing with it now. There was some confusion with my certificate card, though. The course instructor accidentally filled out the expiry date and the issue date as the same, so that I would be certified for 24 hours, rather than three years. I brought up the mistake to Goodwill, and my card was redone properly. I was told the other staff members laughed at her for the mistake, though that bit didn't make me feel any better.

Yesterday I had a mild, prolonged anxiety attack, apparently prompted by a bunch of people trying to help me with my questions at Goodwill, and someone answering other questions a bit shortly, since he had a lot of different things to do. The attack lasted over two hours and I felt hostile and feeble throughout it. Then came home to Pup and fought for a long time about him failing to aplogize to me or take my feelings into account even when I make them clear, and me being irrational and unstable to a point that he feels he has to be afraid of my leaving him any time he does anything at all.

Today, from the time I woke up, despite doing my planking and having a shower, and despite close to twelve hours of sleep, it felt like the world was slowed down. When I listened to my music, it all sounded slightly but uncannily flat, and I didn't care about it, even though it was music that was usually very powerful to me. I went to Goodwill to retrieve a flash drive I'd forgotten there, and came home immediately. It was obvious to me that I needed to just rest, today, and recover from my stresses... my body and despondent mind were telling me something was wrong and I needed to tend to that before anything else.

It seems much of this, my own participation in all sorts of other activities, including some active job search work, practicing various forms of my artistry... was largely prompted by Pup's computer being fixed, meaning he now has something to spend time with without me having to be there to engage him constantly. The fact that it's now, after this, that his responses to me have seemed to step up again in aggression and disrespect has some very disappointing implications that now that he doesn't need me as much, there's a lot more dissatisfaction and hostility he may have been holding back, that's now out. Perhaps having what he wanted has actually made his mental and emotional condition worse, because he can junkie out on video games and avoid real world responsibilities as much as he wants. I don't really know. Whatever's going on, I don't think this will last long.

P.S: I... just discovered something weird on my Writing.com account. Apparently someone spent $20 on me to get me three months of upgraded account. It was an anonymous gift, with the message: "Keep reviewing!". I... feel kind of stunned. It's weird that some random person on the internet would spent money on me to get me to keep doing reviews of writing... I wonder, is this how Grimith feels?

Decline

I have been putting off my exercises... Today, I did some... Though not well. I seem to have hit a wall with planking - the last three times I've done it, I gave out at almost exactly one minute and 24 seconds... I guess this is my barrier point, at this time.

But then... Today, everything seemed harder. It could be that the time off and the guilt about it have made me dread it. It could be that I asked my boyfriend to come and provide support and he didn't. It could be that it's late and I'm tired. Or perhaps all of the above. I did most of my pledged routine, but found crunches harder than usual, and leg lifts, oddly, easier. I may have been counting faster. I don't know. I kept momentarily losing track of the numbers, as though they'd scattered before my mind and I had to make a focused effort to remember them again. Nine in a row... that's a new record, if I did manage the counts properly. I think possibly it's got something to do with the way I'm holding my arms, locking my knees and clenching my midsection now.

I don't feel achieved, and I don't feel healthy. I feel weak, and depressed. I felt so bad after this excuse for a workout that I couldn't talk to my boyfriend when I came back to our room, could only gesture and make plaintive noises because I didn't want him to touch me and couldn't answer what was wrong, and he just wouldn't seem to stop trying to touch me and repeatedly ask the infuriatingly unanswerable question anyway.

From certain angles and poses, my abdomen feels kind of numb, like it's full of static. Some people on Fitocracy are trying to encourage me onwards, reminding me that whatever you're doing, it hurts less the more you do it. I don't feel capable of answering them. I don't think I'm willing to hold out until this is giving me significant help. It's too hard, and it's painful and depressing, like damn near everything else.

You know... I think I might have failed to take my pills one day too many this week. And certainly not at a reliable time. Sigh... I haven't stopped, though, which is something... I am actually doing it, still, just not doing it reliably or well.

So I guess this is a step in the right direction, as much as it doesn't, at the moment, feel like one.

Back Up, Back On, Full Forward! ... And Suddenly...

Dear diary readers, I did well today. I woke up in the morning, took my supplements even though they were late, delivered two resumes, and most importantly, I returned to my workout early, fully, and fiercely. I did it better than ever before! And all this before having breakfast... (which isn't exactly a good thing, but I just don't have much appetite in the morning before doing anything, and didn't want to exercise on a full stomach or put it off)

This is important because the last time I did my workout, I didn't do the third and last part of it, my leg lifts, which are tough and require endurance: Lie on back, with legs straight, lifted just slightly off the ground, and hold them there, as still as possible, for ten seconds... Then, gradually (as possible) raise until they are upright, above the pelvis, and hold there for another ten seconds. Lower and repeat. I try to do this ten times each time I work out, though I so far always have to take a break at least once in between - usually this means I do it in two sets of five repetitions. Today, I did a set of three, a set of four, and another set of three.

Besides just picking up and getting back into doing a part of my workout that I failed at last time, I also beat my record time for the plank (part one of my workout) with 75 seconds to beat last time's 73, and my earlier number of crunches (part two) managing 21 today, at which point I actually noticed that I was feeling the effort in my thighs as well as abdomen. I wonder, is that supposed to happen? I collapsed after my first set of three leg lifts, and had to take a few minutes' break before doing another set of four. After that, another short breather, and while waiting for my abdomen to recover enough to complete my routine, I decided to do something else in the mean time - so far, my workout is all building the strength of parts of my body by using them to lift and hold the weight of other parts of me. Cardio workout is also important, though, and I remember hearing somewhere, though I have no idea about the credibility of the source, that while you'll build muscle with strength training alone, it won't help you lose fat much...

So I settled on something easy that I know how to do, and did some jumping jacks. Forty, to be precise. I was thinking I'd do twenty, but I made it past twenty without much difficulty, so why stop there? At thirty I was getting a bit worn out, and by forty, where I decided to stop, I was starting to feel like I couldn't do much more, so probably a good stopping point.

I paced for a while, and had a glass of water, taking deep breaths and getting ready. "Just three more legs," I kept promising myself. I know the last ones are always the hardest - your muscles already ache, and the seconds drag on impressively. But... I did it. Just, but I did it. And I feel... triumphant. Roooooaar! Snarl! I am victorious! **chuckles**

And then something else happened.

I got an email from my mother.

The last notable time I remember this happening, she was writing to tell me that her father, my grandfather had died. Had. Died. Just to put this in a little bit more perspective... I was living not that far away. I didn't know he had taken ill. I don't usually stay in contact all that much with my family, and no-one had told me. I might have, could have, had a chance to visit him one last time, if someone had, but... ... I didn't know a thing about it, until my mom sent me a short email to tell me she thought I should know he was dead.

I got along well with my grandfather. He was a friendly, jovial type, a poet, and a musician, who played clarinet and french horn. I hadn't seen him since a family gathering over a year before. Never would again.

Now let me explain. My mother and I are not on good terms, and as far as I'm concerned never have been, at least not since before I can remember. Growing up, it was perfectly clear to me that whatever I ate, the clothes I wore, and even the additions my use made to the electricity, internet and water bills, were all taxing costs to her. We grew up in poverty, so I can understand that, to a point... But getting a pointed look whenever I put cheese on a sandwich (because 'cheese is expensive - not to mention fattening!') was... well. Just another part in the larger picture, another reminder that she was only putting up with the costs I inflicted upon her because she was, or considered herself to be, a good mother.

That much might not have been enough for me to hate her, and wouldn't be a very good excuse. No...

Mom worked a lot of the time I was home in late elementary and high school - sometimes I was lonely all by myself in the house, but not all that often, and I could always go for walks around town if I got bored. For the most part, being alone suited me fine. When she was home, though... The most common question she ever asked me was whether I had any homework, or had done it yet. She didn't seem to care that I was bullied terribly, even when I told her about it. Whether she just didn't know what to do or say about it, and so simply did nothing, or whether she didn't take me seriously, or whether she figured it would be good for my character in the long run, I have no idea. She smoked, and out of a sense that it was bad to smoke in front of youth for the sake of their health, eventually ended up designating one room of the house a smoking room, so she could smoke without going outside all the time. The smoking room had its own door, which at first didn't work, and plenty of windows to let the smoke out, which was good...

And after a while, also had a television in it. At that point, she seemed to spend almost all the time that we were both home in the smoking room, often with her boyfriend, even if neither of them were smoking. I am, again, not sure whether this was a deliberate measure to avoid me, because the smoking room was somewhere I refused to go because of the smell, but it served as such, and made her difficult to get the attention of or approach. Being alone in a house, to me, has never seemed to be a bad thing, really. There is a sense of privacy and a certain thrill to having the place all to yourself, even if only for a short time. The same cannot be said of being alone, quite profoundly alone, when there is someone who supposedly loves you in the next room over... and you can't bring yourself to try to talk to them.

I know, because she told me once, that she found my tantrums, the times when I was upset and angry and needed attention, to be frightening, and that this is often why she avoided me when I most needed someone to talk to - or complain to - or scream at. Forgive me for thinking that this is not a very good excuse for avoiding, rather than resolving, conflict with one's own child, or for that matter, an example of good parenting.

The worst thing was, by far, that effectively speaking, I was not allowed to disagree, and I was not allowed to have social needs - like attention, or a hug, or forgiveness. Such things were given if I was in all ways co-operative, sometimes. If ever I objected to being shouted at because I didn't immediately come to help bring in groceries after my mom was having a hard day, or was frustrated because she had a habit of phrasing what were obviously meant to be commands as questions, along the line of "Would you like to help me with supper? ...What do you mean, 'No'!?" I would be subjected to a tirade of insults and labels, including "selfish," "insolent", "rotten", "bitchy", "spoiled brat", "inconsiderate", and several others.

And she never. Ever. EVER said she was sorry or apologized to me without some form of the following attached to it:
"but you treat me just as badly or worse than I treat you"
"but I don't have the patience..."
"but if you're being completely impossible, I don't see how you expect..."
"but I deserve respect too"
"but what goes around comes around, missy"...

et cetera. She seemed constantly, utterly convinced that every time I got angry, every time I needed or wanted more than she was already giving, it was a conspiracy to guilt-trip her.

She even hit me, once - just once, that I can ever remember. We were arguing, and I think I had shoved her. I don't remember the context, exactly, but she slapped me soundly across the face. I was shocked, and more surprised than anything. It stung, yes, but the pain wasn't really important. Just the shock of the fact that she had hit me made me go kind of still for a second.

And I would be willing to forgive that, in and of itself.
A minute later, and ever since then... She denied it ever happened.

Of course... like everyone, mother has her good sides. Her cooking was fantastic, and she had a good singing voice. She sometimes used to sing songs to me in the car, and I still remember and can repeat several of them, including "Waltzing Matilda", "Donna Donna", "Somos El Barco", and several others. She had a strong sense of humour which was sometimes cringe worthy, but we enjoyed joking back and forth at each other sometimes, and I could often amuse her with my silliness.

There were things I thank her for, like teaching me how to make a really good tuna salad sandwich, which remains one of my favorite meals, in some variation or another, to this day. But the good neither outweighs nor excuses the bad.

For the past several years, most of the time since I left home at 18, really, I have usually maintained a stance of diplomatic silence towards her. She occasionally attempts to contact me, but I rarely respond, mostly because her message is usually along the lines of "I'm ready to make reparations if you are, the ball's in your court", and mentioning how much she wants to patch things up. Again, as always, subtly making it seem as much dependent on my initiative, and everything as much my fault, as conceivably possible.

I have no response to that that I expect to be of any use, so I do not respond. There is nothing I can say that would be honest without inciting a fight. I am too angry, too bitter and cynical and too aware of the subtext of it, not willing to put up with it, especially not from her, not any more. No. I am not, ever, going to be caught nodding politely and saying "Yes, mother," while she lists my crimes against her. I have never been willing to do so, which is why we used to fight so often, and I sincerely doubt I ever will. Not even if I have no house to sleep in in dead winter. Death first.

At some point in the year after I left home, I don't remember precisely when, she informed me I was no longer welcome at her house, as a guest or otherwise. And since then, well. More or less this. Mostly silence. Very occasional breaks in it.

So... she sent me an email today, surprisingly completely blank, just with a document attached to it. I was tempted to just delete it, because I wasn't sure I had the patience to take this today... But I opened it anyway, just to see what it was.

It was a short letter, written in red and in the shape of a heart, for Valentine's Day.

It read:

"It's been several years since I took the steps I did toward (or rather away from) you. It was probably the hardest thing I have ever felt that I had to do, and has not become any easier, really, with the passage of time. I know I have not always been the best mom. I have my shortcomings and blind spots, as do we all. Though, for better or for worse... I am your mother... and I love you, have always loved you and will always love you more than you may ever know. I have so longed for a healing of the scars which we have inflicted upon each other over the years, and to be able to share a harmonious and supportive relationship. I realize that it would have to be a combined effort and also may not be easy. I had been waiting and hoping that you would be the one who would initiate a reconciliation with me, between us, though perhaps this is more than I should count upon. And the thought that we may never reconcile is more than I can bear. I just wanted you to know that I'm still here, still love and miss you and still wait, with hopes and prayers for you. Know that you are in my heart.

What more can I say ~ In my heart ~ on Valentine's Day"

I don't really know what to say to this. It shocks me almost like that slap, way back when... Surprisingly, this is a lot more mature than she usually is, and contains much less blame, if you can believe that. She's... certainly made progress.

And yet at the same time, it enrages me the way her messages usually do, with implications that most if not all of this is entirely my fault, or at least somehow my responsibility.

I imagine the way I feel right now might be akin to the way an openly and happily gay person might feel reading a similar letter from his or her deeply religious and traditional parents.

She's making progress. Which impresses me, and indicates that she really is trying to make some form of compromise with me... and just falling well short of the mark. She doesn't know how to do this. She may not even understand why her words are offensive to me, to her they're just the simple truth of her perspective...

I don't know. Either way, it hurts.

I don't plan to answer her. I still don't have anything to say to this, and it is essentially the same message she's been sending me over and over (kind of like the endless internet-regulating bills currently being pumped out by media interest groups in the U.S...).

However... it's... better, this time. And if she keeps getting better this way... Maybe someday, maybe even someday not too distant... Maybe I will.

Fitocracy

Fitocracy is a website which endeavors to provide resources, community support, and motivation, for people who are trying to get, or stay, fit, by working out. It provides information on, and credit for, a very broad range of fitness activities, from dancing, swimming, biking and long walks, to barbell strength training and challenging courses like P90X. The community encourages and makes use of courses including Starting Strength, You Are Your Own Gym, and Convict Conditioning, among other things.

At present, the site is invitation-only, but I've heard that you can find invites on Google if you look.

Had enough gratuitous links yet?

I introduced myself to the community... technically, just earlier today. If you have an account on Fitocracy, you can see my introduction thread here, and feel free to follow me if you like.

Okay, I'm finished with the links now, I promise. ;)

For those of you who don't have a Fitocracy account, here is the self-introduction I posted there:

Hello, Fitocracy. Deep breath, blush, gulp, exhale, smile.

A friend of mine told me about this site because he's using it as part of his new lifestyle plan to save him from health problems, and offered to invite me when I told him I was interested in starting to work out, too.

I am 21, female, have a multitude of vague health problems mental, emotional and physical, especially anxiety, hypothyroidism, occasional symptoms of depression, etc... and am overweight.

I have never been athletic, or spent much time or energy working out - I loathed gym teachers and the popular fit kids in high school and stayed away from them as often as possible. I am a gamer (role-playing games like D&D, and video games, mostly on PC) and am proud to be labeled a geek, but I know my sedentary lifestyle is not doing me any favours, and I'm going to have to really make some changes in my lifestyle in order to get anywhere, since the cyclical situation of poverty, unemployment, laziness, helplessness, and unhealthiness is very much self-enforcing.

Yesterday evening, I sent above-mentioned friend this email (lightly modified):

~~~

Today was my second day of working out, not counting yesterday (which was a break to recover from the first workout the day before). Both times, I've done a minute (or slightly more) of planking, 15 crunches and 10 leg lifts, in two sets of five (ten seconds held just off the floor and ten seconds held up, each). My abdomen is weak and shaky, but I feel proud and relieved that I could do it again. My boyfriend had advised me not to do the second set of five for fear that I was pushing myself too hard, but I did it anyway. I think I can take it, even though it is hard. I look forward to the point at which this (or at least, just this much) stops making my body's core ache significantly for a whole day afterward. Actually doing something grants a much more optimistic perspective, even if it doesn't change many of the problems I was facing...

Would you be so kind as to send me a code to join Fitocracy?

I think I'm ready.

SS

~~~

I am not here to become a bodybuilder or pro athlete, or even necessarily to get to levels of health other people consider good - I just really need to improve my own health, reduce fatigue, develop a healthy sleeping schedule (this is going to be HARD - I sleep during the day by default and going to bed early causes me to wake up after four hours in the middle of the night... I cannot fall asleep without being very tired, and am not sure how to manipulate my tiredness to arrive at convenient times), and get my energy levels under control so that I can start doing other things effectively with the confidence it should give me.

I'm suspicious of my own start, because I'm familiar with the cycle of getting hyped about something and then quickly losing interest after a couple of days, and I really, really don't want to repeat it with this, it's too important.

I hope it's a good sign that yesterday I felt impatient and really wanted to work out more even though I knew my body needed a break. ^^ That anticipation of doing more and making progress, the anticipation of being able to do more in the future, is a really sweet feeling.

I've spent a few hours now looking at the site, reading some of the Beginners' sources here (This one looks like it could be very, very useful), etc. It's overwhelming and intimidating seeing so many of the work-out options, and how much some of the active members manage to do. I'm very anxious, but excited. So now I'm here - for advice and support, and possibly for your entertainment. I hope you don't mind the very long and expressive style of writing - I'm like this all the time, unless severely distracted. So, ah... If you'd like to comment on, or be privy to, my personal journey... Welcome! And thanks for the little bit of help that attention and affirmation bring.

SS out... For now.

Edit: Currently, the plan is to start with the above workout every other day, with a day of rest in between, and my first-steps goals are: 1) to be able to do all ten leg-lifts in one set without a break in the middle, and 2) to reach a point at which I can start working out every day rather than every other day, without hurting myself.

Once I've reached these goals, I will try to do more reps, hold them longer, plank for longer, and add more elements - perhaps some wall push ups.

If you can give me an appraisal of this plan, or would like to suggest an addition to it, feel free.