Tag: mental health

Breaking Up and Swinging

~ curlymamaof2 ~ 2 Comments

There is a movement within the fitness industry. A more healthful approach in my opinion. Fit2point0, for example, is a group of likeminded fitness professionals whose mission it is to bring health back to fitness. To be inclusive. To encourage ALL body types to move, nourish with real food and feel amazing. There are a million ways to move a body and stay strong and live a life with energy and vitality. It isn’t about aesthetics or body building.

Within the industry there are shifts in the way people are approaching health and fitness, the scale specifically. Why do we weigh? It’s the most common metric. We’ve always done it. We get weighed at the doctor’s office. But what does it weigh exactly?

Does it measure strength?

Does it measure endurance?

Does it measure progress?

Does it measure your cardiovascular health?

Nope.

It’s your relationship with gravity. Period.

I hear it over and over, “I just want to get down to xxx weight.” “I weighed xxx in high school. I would be happy to get there again.”

WHAT?

Just… no. First of all, have you had babies since high school? Aged a decade or two? Stop looking back. Stop looking at an elusive “when I get there….” place to be happy. Why not be happy right now? Why not make progress and be happy in the process?  The scale will jack with your mind if you let it. That goal number in your head of “happy land”? Yeah, you get there, there will be a new number taunting you. Let go of some utopian number where all the world is right. “If I could just lose 5 more…then I would be happy.” No you won’t. It won’t be good enough. It never is. Throw the damn scale away.

Here are some ideas for better, less jacked-up, progress tracking tools:

Tape measurements. Use a tape and measure your bicep, waist,  hips, chest and thigh. Track that if you must track something. How do your clothes fit? Can you walk up and down a flight of stairs without being winded? Can you keep up with your kids? Are you holding up a park bench and letting them play? Get in there and play, too! Can you get through your day without caffeine? Do you experience that afternoon slump and need a stimulant (coffee, more caffeine) to make it through to evening? Can you get up and down off of the floor without huffing and puffing? How’s the blood sugar?

These are far better indicators of health than that stupid number.

Easy for me to say, right?

I get it. I struggle with it, too. So much so, that for the past 6 months I’ve been toying with an idea. I’ve been contemplating. I’ve been thinking (read: procrastinating), “I’ll get to it.” After 4 years, it was time to break up with the scale, to break up with the measurements and tracking that don’t serve as an indication of health.

And I’ve asked it of clients. I’ve asked them to take a shift in thinking and step away from the scale. But….

I’ve been hanging on to mine.

Time to practice what I preach. I fired my scale in a fun, liberating way. Take a look!

Thanks Coach Taylor Simon for the inspiration! And by the way – swinging that heavy sledgehammer felt Ah.Mazing! (Swing a sledgehammer around a while – that takes strength and gets your heart rate up!)

How about you? Do you love or loathe your scale? Perhaps it’s time for a break.

A break up.

 

 

 

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Insomniac Ramblings

~ curlymamaof2 ~ Leave a comment

It’s 12:02 a.m. Day 42 of our PCS/nomad existence. I cannot sleep. When I can’t sleep, I write. My thoughts are all over the place tonight. I can’t promise this will turn out coherent. I can’t promise clarity, just some midnight ramblings…

Robin Williams

I wasn’t alive when Kennedy was shot, but everyone that was knows exactly where they were when it happened. Everyone knows where they were and what they were doing with vivid detail when the towers fell that Tuesday morning. I’m not comparing the magnitude of the death of a gifted man with these other events necessarily, but it does serve as a reminder when impactful things occur, time seems to slow down, or shift suddenly. I remember watching Happy Days with my mom when Mork landed and froze the Fonz. I remember watching his movies. We collectively remember him as a comedic and dramatic soundtrack to our lives. I never knew the man, but because of his gifts, I was able to witness a small portion of his work. I don’t know that I’ve ever been really affected or saddened by the passing of a celebrity before, but this seems different somehow. Perhaps because of the big “D” word everyone keeps rambling on about – telling everyone to “get help” and to call 1-800 numbers and such. I just keep thinking that if a man that had means, access, and capability to receive help, but couldn’t; what hope is there for the countless others of us who have experienced true depression? The D-word is an equalizer. It really doesn’t matter who you are, how much money you have, or what side of town you call home.

Middle East Conflicts/Violence Here and Abroad

Being in a hotel (and camping) for 6 weeks, we’ve had more screen time than normal. In our current location, we actually have 2 televisions, one in a little living room, and one in the bedroom of our suite. (We usually only have 1 television and more often than not, Disney Jr. or PBS is the channel of choice.) Now that the option is there, we’ve been able to watch the news and view other non-animated, grown-up television.

I think I want to go back to not knowing.

I hate watching the news. It makes me feel helpless. I don’t like the world I see on my screen as I hear my kids chattering around the wall. It scares me. It drives me to my knees in prayer. I wonder what kind of world they will grow to inherit. The world has always had hate, murder, war, etc., but it sure feels like we are experiencing a rising tide of evil. Is it because of the 24 hour news cycle? Or is it a true rise? I don’t know.

Grief

It comes in all forms, in varying depths. Family tragedies, anniversaries, birthdays of loved ones no longer with us, or even diagnoses we didn’t want to face bring grief to the surface. It’s as if grief picks at the healing scab just to see if the underlying skin is tender. If it still feels the sting.

It does. It hurts. And it sucks.

Hope

I’ve complained of roaches, living out of suitcases, and other minor inconveniences experienced through a military transfer, but when I look at the bigger picture – I can do nothing but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’m not on some mountaintop fearing for my life. I’m here. I have a family I would lay down my life for. I have no want for any material thing. And I get to move into a new home and own a small patch of dirt again in just a few days. Grief is real. Tragedy and death are real. But so is love. So is faith. And hope. If there isn’t hope, if there isn’t something good to come out of the dark, what really then is the point? I’m grateful for hope, despite the evidence that points to a lack of it.