A couple of weeks ago, on a rainy Sunday night, I set my alarm for 5.05am and laid out my gear for the gym. I managed to get myself there and did my first class (first exercise!) since mid-December last year. Even back then it was very patchy. No consistency. I dragged myself back again on Tuesday morning. By Tuesday afternoon I was barely walking. I was haunched over, shuffling, walking sideways down the stairs at work and using both arms to hold the walls to get myself on to the toilet.
I was able to move more freely by Friday, and on Saturday I went back to the gym and did another class. This week I have done four classes... and managed to get through my first spin class in about two years. And I did it without going grey or throwing up. But it hurt and it was really, really hard.
I get up and bundle myself in to my stretchy clothes. This week, I did a Body Attack class, with an instructor I find very intense and not really one for giving the low options. It's a physically intense cardio class and I have to psych myself up for it. I happened to catch a glance of myself in the miror, side on, just as the class started. This resulted in me being very close to tears for most of the class. I hate myself. I hate my body. I hate what I have done to myself. I have been a member of the gym for about three years and I still look the same. NO. I look worse. I'm heavier. I'm flabbier, I have the beginning of bingo wings. I was down a size and now my stomach is bloated and I look pregnant. I've gone up two sizes, I cannot comfortably fit in to so many of my clothes. I look frumpier and I am slower with a few body parts that complain frequently (shoulder and hip). How could I have let myself become this?
I made it through the class but I was still in a revolting mood when I got home to my little family. They all felt the brunt of my anger, my self-hatred and it is not their fault.
Be who you are. Don't forget that your body is not YOU. You are not your body.
The essence of you comes from within -- from your mind, your personality, your heart.
I often find it hard to remember that I am not what I look like, but, when I do recall this,
I know that there is so much more to me than appearance.
And how this resonated with me. How dare I let my anger at myself affect my family? My kids don't care what I look like, I'm their mummy. I made a promise to myself that I cannot allow that to happen again. And then, deeper than that, I am me. I need to be happy with me, not my just my body.
It's easier to wake up early and work out
than it is to look in the mirror each day and not like what you see - Jayne Cox