First thoughts: It’s a closed question with a yes/no answer, so … no shit, Sherlock.
Other thoughts: If people behave like adults they can disagree without falling out. No need for violence, outrage, misery, despair or trauma.
I am really, really sick of the whole debate coming under attack. It’s the biggest, most momentous decision of our lifetimes. So people do have a lot to discuss, a lot to exchange, a lot to campaign for and hope for and dream about (and live in abject fear of, in some cases). This debate is a good thing because previously completely disengaged people are now taking an interest and becoming involved in politics. This is the injection of diversity and vision that politics in this country (both Scotland and the UK) so desperately needs. Yes, change is scary. Yes, there are uncertainties (admittedly not an unusual finding when considering the future). But those are not reasons to criticise the debate, they are not an excuse for division and they are not universally bad either.
So my eating is terrible, my motivation is appalling and my lifestyle leaves lots to be desired.
I never know whether eating the wrong things makes me feel bad and sets me off on a path of depressive thoughts – I definitely suffer from the carb fug after eating, and the GP reckons this is because I often go long periods between meals and my sugar and insulin balance is screwed up. But I do turn to food to numb me when I feel stressed out. I can manage OK when I have company but when I am alone it is so difficult not to salve my soul with toast. And then I wonder if I could only exercise more routinely I would be happier.
Anyway, I’ve been asked to trial a fitness tracker which monitors my activity. I need to be honest with it about food. Past history tells me I will be filled with enthusiasm until I have a few busy days at work and then I will falter and forget about it – BUT I have committed to giving feedback after a month so I have to stick it out for that long 🙂
Anyway. I also am fairly determined to start by being kinder to myself, something which this blog was started to help keep me focussed on. Early bedtimes are my project of the moment.
SO I wrote a long post including my GP visit to address my food problems, some chat about my poor abilities with regard to playing with my children, and a bit of a grumble about Baroness Butler-Sloss being appointed to oversee the investigation into the “historic” (why do they keep using this word?) child abuse allegations connected with Westminster. Then I lost it.
Maybe later. Gah.
So I’ve got a load of new bruises and I’m walking like an osteoporosis-riddled octogenarian but I’ve been riding my bike a lot this week. Last night a pal showed me some gorgeous singletrack I’d never ridden before, and it was so good for me after a hectic week. As you swoop and swirl through the woods you just focus on each turn of the trail and your mind slowly empties of all the other crap. It’s proper therapy. It was also quite hard – harder than I’d have tried by myself, lots of rocks and gnarl, but you know what I bloody did it and I CAN do it. Need to push myself more.
So, I wrote that post last night, feeling optimistic. I felt quite motivated once I’d written it, and I sorted out all the laundry which has overwhelmed me this week. I had a horrible bug through the week, so it had fallen by the wayside even more than usual.
After I’d sorted it all out, I washed all the dishes so there was no horrible mess to wake up to, and I made a curry and put it in the slow cooker so there was something for my husband to eat when he got in from his shift. Feeling goooooood.
Then I made myself two pittas with cheese. WTF? I wasn’t even hungry. They were horrible, but I ate them anyway (nobody likes to see waste … right?). Then I felt rubbish again.
The big question is why? I wasn’t hungry. I was quite happy with myself, having achieved a few chores. They made me feel lethargic and horrible, and they didn’t even taste good. This is not taking care of my body. This is abusing it. Like someone who takes drugs abuses their body, but can’t stop, it is a bit like that I guess.
Anyway, that was yesterday.
I’m a very average working mum. In my thirties, always tired, overweight, stressed out.
I spend a lot of time being cross with myself for not doing enough. I don’t keep the house tidy enough, I don’t cook healthy enough food, I don’t make enough of an effort with my appearance, I don’t have enough patience with the kids, I don’t pay enough attention to my husband, I don’t have enough energy, I don’t keep in touch with friends enough, I don’t earn enough, I’m not thin enough, I’m not fit enough, I’m just scraping by with things, but not enough.
Then there’s too much. I eat too much. I work too much. I Facebook too much. I sit around in a daze too much. I spend too much time indulging myself in “leisure” things when I should be doing some of the stuff in the not enough list. I spend too much. I nag too much. I worry too much. I yell too much. I rush too much. It’s just too much.
I really want to achieve a few goals (don’t we all?). Those goals used to be: get thin, earn more, be a better mum. But I’m going to try a different tack. My goals are to look after my body, to look after my mind, and to be a good mum.
I intend to do this through the media of cycling, being a bit of a feminist, occasional forays into crochet and generally trying to nurture myself (that sounds like some bad hippy shit, but the thesaurus drew a blank so it stays).
So yeah. Let’s do this.