Last night I had a mini-meltdown (aka a panic attack) and idk what’s going on with me. I haven’t had one for six months (when I had a terrible job). D just held me and let me cry. I’ve never been more in love.
I took a half day and now I’m torn between sleeping, sitting in the sun with a book, and hours of yoga.
All I know is there will be hours of packing and some sushi later. LITTLE THINGS.
Despite the short week, an empowering yoga practice, a delicious steak/guac lunch, pug/tux cat snuggles, stalking NASA, BLASTING music, and surprise kisses, I cannot shake the tears today.
Last weekend was one of the best ever because I got to get away for a weekend with two of my favorite people, star gaze sans light pollution wrapped in my lover’s arms, sample beer, taste wine, experience nature, let my phone die, yoga on a windy cliff, see the sun, eat crab avocado omelets, discuss deep thoughts, and avoid spiders. Oh, and let’s not forget the night fueled by wine/beer sampling and one vodka soda that I forgot I had told him I was a super hero (a super cat, mind you) and my powers were sticking to walls and jumping high and I proceeded to jump everywhere instead of walk the rest of the night.
I’m going to try to make this weekend as good (if not better) than the last because
being in love is the best even though I haven’t been working out as much, I don’t remember the last time I binged/purged AND eating well/less makes me feel VERY okay with my body (even with the thutt cellulite/without the poppin’ obliques). So, I’m going to rock leather leggings at this CrossFit happy hour, get high off music and endorphins, let my phone die, always continue to avoid spiders (forever even in the city), eat so much crab (again), sleep in my lover’s arms, laugh until my abs are sore the next day, do yoga in my underwear, bring Luna over to his place for the weekend (Luna and the pug are in love/hate), channel my Hawaiian goddess for a barbecue with flowers in my mermaid hair, and sleep in.
Heart sickness and nausea has caused the loss of all motivation. I still think about going back to calorie counting because I feel like I take up too much space lately and that was the only thing that worked. (CONFLICT.) I can’t handle HOT yoga and most food right now but at least I’m still kind of lost in the beauty of the primary ashtanga sequence. It’s been a beautiful distraction even if it does take three hours (well that AND Drag Race, shh).
Lovely little things:
- matte orange lipstick (Mac’s Lady Danger is AH-MAZING)
- gold nail polish (I can’t believe I haven’t bit my nails in… TWO… months?)
- whole, wild grilled shrimp
- a woman from New York thought I was sassy enough at the bar last night to want to be my friend (sooo, maybe I DO have some science contacts there… things to consider when wanting to move)
- a bartender is a powerful friend to have when sad
- I’m doing yoga on his bar
- almost reread Great Gatsby (mostly in the sun)
- for better or worse, my heart has been the most open it has been in years
The most wonderfully cliché date Sunday - yoga, sushi, sunset Ferris wheel, and cocktails.
Could not for the life of me find any motivation this morning. Heart sick. Too much anxiety to go outside and run. What? Too nice outside to trap myself in a hot yoga studio for a couple hours. What? FINALLY did a MetCon at home. One I used to do in 8 minutes took me 14. Shoulder pain. Regardless, I knew I’d feel better if I did SOMETHING instead of nothing. Now I can lay in the sun with my Kindle in my Artoo bathing suit before a fancy opera night. PRIORITIES.
Friday night - in bed by 7 PM with a cat, a handsome glass of red wine, and a yoga book
I AM A WINNER AMONG WOMEN (!)
Most yoga classes start with setting an intention and I always do. My intentions are always based on finding courage, self-acceptance, and focus but every time I’m knee-deep in the middle of a hot, sweaty twist (or what have you), I lose focus. I CAN’T HELP IT (I tell myself as I wipe the salt from my stinging eye or check whether I can see my abs yet in the mirror). Losing focus is fine. That’s why we set intentions and goals. They’re not SUPPOSED to be easy-peasy things to keep in mind and accomplish in the blink of an eye. Yet, why do I never come back to these intentions? I can’t even keep an intention through an entire yoga class so how the hell do I keep goals and such things through an entire month? Baby steps - little steps to surmount a mountain.
The mountain of intention this month of May is gorilla balls. It’s a term my good friend, Kirsten, lovingly gave to the courage, confidence, and self-connection it takes to unapologetically express your feelings. Why can I not connect with my own feelings? Why can I never talk about them? Why do I apologize whenever I do? I need to stop that. It’s terrifying but I need to open up more to… even just myself. I’m getting better at it. What’s more of a shining example than telling my boyfriend I loved him without expecting to get a declaration back? (Oof, that one still stings but still, THAT was the type of courage I typically lack.)
Now, the baby steps:
- love more selflessly
- refall in love with the post-running endorphins
- daily full Hanumanasana practice
- try an official CrossFit class
- stop eating dairy daily unless I want my guts to keep hating me
- keep up with 750words.com
- spend more time alone/with Luna cat to figure out what *I* want
- be open to adventure
- be a better aunt
- finish a book for fun (BONUS POINTS if the majority of reading time is in the sun)
- gaze at more stars
- tie more bow ties
Now I’m going to screen shot this bad boy and use it as a phone background so I don’t lose focus.
Anonymous asked: You have been looking very lean lately!
Thank you, baby!
I usually don’t like to post asks unless I can make some sort of public point/announcement SO PSA:
At the beginning of March, I challenged myself to stop counting calories. And I mostly did. I struggled to not write things down or use app trackers or take pictures of everything to count up later but it got easier. The guilt of sometimes eating too much or too little went away and I realized that everything eventually balances out. AND ALSO, I haven’t binged/restricted since I started that. It’s been two months. New record for me in my adult life! I may not be working out as much with my shoulder injury/adjustment to birth control (read: NOW an average of 4x/week instead of 1-2/day) but my metabolism I suppose has adjusted accordingly and I’m happier and have more time for other things (like a career and loving all over my fella). So, so much happier annnd probably leaner. Circle of positive reinforcement in action.
Yeah, yeah, I’d still like to fit into the skinny jeans I wore pre-barbell/always-hungry days (circa last summer) but not at the expense of being a perpetual hungry, depressed, cranky, insecure hermit who couldn’t enjoy an extra glass of wine or a fancy dinner without the expense of waking up early the next day to run ten miles (or what have you). I’m nearly 5’9. I put on muscle easily. It’s stupid to work so hard to be a size 2/120 lbs TO NO REAL EXPENSE (note to future self). Plus I NOW have the strength for longer planks, more in depth/heavier squats, and longer vinyasa sessions.
Sore from deadlifts/legs day Thursday to hot hatha Friday with D and Jameson to staying in for the night for coffee and an Always Sunny marathon.
Sleep in Saturday (9 AM) to starting the Foundation series to walking in a hail storm in get froyo (makes sense) to a going away party to late night sushi. Honestly, telling people D and I met online will never not feel awkward so we made up a story about how we met riding sharks. MAKES SENSE.
Sunday work to brunch with the fam who find a way to embarrass me always. This time they asked if being a new aunt made D and I clucky (ready to have kids)… UHNOOO. Cheers to apple thyme mimosas and a clam/chorizo bowl. Also, the lady with the corgi in a baby stroller. Brunch to dashing off the to the CrossFit gym to climb ropes/deadlift to a nap to hot yoga. Hot yoga after mimosas and being (rudely) awakened from a nap?! Would. Not. Repeat. I would however recommend carne asada, guacamole, salsa with fresh lettuce wraps + a 8 PM bedtime.
A weekend full of yoga + love + wine = A+ weekend
… Insomnia, sick from yesterday’s food, an awkward confession of feelings, and a botched interview.
Pretty sure I can take a late lunch wine nap (shout out to Nebbiolo) and when I wake up, it’ll be like a new day. Monday do over of yoga and better food and communication? I think so.
D: I’ve watched TWO whole minutes of A yoga video. I’m ready to come to vinyasa with you today.
Me: You’re not coming until you know how to do a sun salutation.
D: Excuse me, I’ve been doing yoga for YEARS. I’ll be fine.
Me: Doing hatha once in a blue moon and mobility exercises MAYBE for the past two years does not prepare you for an advanced hot vinyasa class…
D: Are you questioning my fitness?!
Me: No, but, it’s different…
/You guys, I’m so excited to see my CrossFitter flail. I know yoga isn’t meant to be competitive and all but he’s ALWAYS kicking my ass in met-cons sooo…
Something incredible (to me) happened last night.
I opened up to D (IRL!) last night about these feelings. I’ve only ever “told” my sister… in GChat… about my EDNOS before a therapist. I didn’t expect a certain response. I had to confide in someone or explode. It hasn’t been brought up since. Said therapist advised I go on a diet (wtf???) and so I never returned.
“Why are you so in your head lately?”
And so I got really quiet and uncomfortable and looked at the floor and slowly told him. The migraine was keeping me from yoga. Yoga kept the insecurities away. Yoga was my “recovery” and I was feeling lost without being able to give it my all.
D’s response was better than I could have hoped for. I am enough. He already knew. He has his own experience he shared in return. No one has ever gotten me more. It’s terrifying. He could move back to the east coast and here I’d be, forever a west coast lady.
Yet my tears of anguish turned into tears of joy. Joy for my family and friends and yoga, I suppose. Love comes from a deeper place not in holding someone on some podium of perfection, but seeing their insecurities and struggles and understanding them. It’s in knowing the worst part about someone and it being okay.
I am more than okay.
Who said Monday mornings had to be manic?
Girls from last night (while catching up on the Internet from the weekend), hairrr, that first cup of coffee, and new kombucha make it pretty marvelous.
Ponies and ponytails.
Friend’s farm. Sunny Seattle. Chilly carrots. Wet Washington. Leather love. Almost-April aviators.
(My phone corrected carrots to cat torts and last night corrected LAME to LAMÉ. Guys, that’s all you need to know about me. I’m laughing and drunk off of vitamin D.)