Let's Get Physical

Ever been in the best shape of your life? Ever worked seriously hard at it, found yourself at that seriously awesome fitness level, and then just abandoned the pursuit due to boredom, fatigue or loss of interest? If that's ever happened to you, then you've probably found yourself months later wishing you had stayed motivated because you could have been in even better shape by now, you could have reached your goals, and you know you totally could have kicked ass. Yeah that's me right now, but I'm not beating myself up over it, I'm learning from it. The break in my fitness routine actually happened due to a broken heart. It took a while, but I finally realized the old lay-around-and-do-nothing routine was a habit that was definitely not doing me any favours. It ultimately dawned on me that not going out for a run was only punishing myself and no one else. I was the only person suffering the consequences of my decisions. I wanted to get back into it, to have a goal to work toward, but I was afraid. Afraid of not being as good as I was before? Maybe. Afraid of trying and trying but never quite getting to where I want to be? Definitely. The reality is, fear is just some made up shit that we get from our imagination and past experiences and let's face it, if we think of it logically, future events don't have to be the reflection of past experiences. Just because you could not accomplish something yesterday, last month, or last year doesn't mean you won't crush it tomorrow, and doing something to work toward a goal is always better than doing nothing. Will the world end if I only get in 50 box jumps instead of 75? Nope. Will my family stop loving me and turn their backs on me if I don't get a PR on each consecutive run? Probably not. Will I still be able to look at myself in the mirror if I'm walking around five pounds over my goal weight? For sure.

After considering all the things that I knew definitely would not happen, I started working out again this week. Hard. Probably at almost the same intensity as what I left off at over six months ago. Just a few tips for everyone on this. First of all, jumping into an exercise routine with both feet after you have been sedentary for a while is probably never a great idea. Unless it's for me, of course. I decided I could handle it. Yes, I have had to kind of crawl up the stairs after my workout because my legs had literally turned into quivering masses of jello. Yes, I have had to ease myself down onto the toilet seat day after day because my muscles were so sore they couldn't be trusted to let me down on their own. (I'm actually thinking of installing those bars in my bathroom designed for elderly people, to help me with that sort of thing.) But in the end the reality of it is I feel great for it, even if it wasn't the exact right way to go about it.

Second, working out doing tabatas in front of a fully mirrored wall is the most humbling experience you will ever have. Ever. When I bought this house last year I thought that line of mirrors was the most glorious part of the place. It's actually a wall of mirrored doors that have a storage space behind them, and I decided the minute I saw it that it would be the perfect workout area. However, doing any sort of cardio-like move in front of those mirrors will show you jiggles and wiggles and rolls you never knew you had. Oh they were always there, but you weren't able to see them at any other time because you didn't have these super new angles with which to see them with. It's hurtful.....I mean, seriously cruel and upsetting to see....but I highly suggest you do your indoor workouts in front of a bank of mirrors just to get a realistic idea of where you are in your fitness quest. Think of it as a necessary rude awakening.

Lastly, when people ask you why you're walking all weird and you tell them it's because your ass hurts so much, they will always, ALWAYS want clarification and details. Make sure you are as clear as possible that you are doing absolutely amazing workouts, improving your fitness, and getting into legendary physical shape. Unless, of course, you like to keep things ambiguous. In that case, carry on, and good luck in your fitness endeavors!

 

Quit Playing the Victim

I had a friend recently belittle me for saying some positive things in the face of his negativity. Actually, it was almost like a long term, ongoing power struggle over whether negative or positive would triumph. To be honest, although I wanted to give this friend the help he was asking for, it was emotionally exhausting to communicate with him and be constantly rebuffed. The resistance was absolutely overwhelming, until I recognized that although he complained he did not actually want help. It was then that I became aware of a really important distinction: Some people ask and ask and ask for help, almost to the point of begging. They complain about their lives and all the things they want to change but "can't".
"I need more money."
"I want to get into shape."
"I'm not happy with my partner."
"Things never go my way."
Then when someone steps up to give those people options, they refuse them or make a plethera of excuses and revert back to the "poor me" victim role. Does that sound familiar? If so, which one are you? Are you the person who plays the victim, or are you the person who comes up with the options?

I'm certainly not judging because that damn victim role is really hard to let go of. A person can become totally entrenched in it. I know, I've been there. I have had lots of victim roles that were as comfortable to fall into as a big, comfy bed, and at the time felt impossible to pull out of. Why? Because the victim role is identifying. Who am I if I'm not the single mom....the daughter of an absent father.....the abused woman.....the former troubled and depressed teen....the survivor of several suicide attempts? Who am I? Look at those roles. They are all negative. Identifying yourself as a victim is never going to produce anything in your life but negativity. Talking about your negative roles and having people who claim to be your friends commiserate with you and pity you also isn't doing you any favours. As a very intelligent friend of mine said yesterday, "It takes less energy to placate people than it does to tell them the truth." And that is hitting the nail directly on the head. You don't have to play into that game. The roles you identify with are based on your various past experiences, and they are nothing but stories we continue to tell ourselves. Let that sink in....everything we identify with is just a story we tell ourselves. Guess what? You can start telling yourself a brand new story. Yes, just like that. All it takes is the decision to be someone different, or do something different and make that change.

I feel like all of my negative roles were a lifetime ago now, because I choose not to identify with them anymore. Now, it's as though they were never me at all. Just be strong and get out there. It's a simple concept, but it isn't always the easy thing to do. Quit making excuses. Do something different to get a different result. Empower yourself with positivity! And above all, don't listen to those stories of your past....go write yourself some new ones.

My Life as a Paeds Nurse

A short look into my work life, which I do love. Most parents are super appreciative (thank you for bringing coffee or food in for the nurses, we are so grateful!) but not all of them can understand the limitations of my role as a nurse.

First, let me say I am so sorry that your child is sick and in the hospital. No, you're right, I do not know what it's like to have a child that ill, but I do have children that I love dearly and I can absolutely empathize with what you are going through. I know you are exhausted and beside yourself with worry. You may have a strong support system of a spouse, family and friends, or you may be all alone in a new place with no one to lean on. I will do my best to support you in any way that I can, because although my top priority is your child, you are a direct extension of that child. I am sorry that I am not able to get your child fresh vegetables to eat in the middle of the night. I would like to, but my hands are tied as to what we actually carry on our floor, and the cafeteria is closed. Government cutbacks, you know. I am not able to change a doctor's order, or make an order myself. I cannot put the rate of your child's IV up to where you think it should be. I cannot give your child anything to make them go to sleep because you are tired, we aren't allowed to do that. I'm sorry that you feel you are not getting enough attention. I try to give my patients all of the attention I can, but I am looking after three other precious children in addition to yours. I am sorry I am not able to give you a private room or your own bed to sleep on. I know sharing a room with another family and sleeping on a pull-out cot is an inconvenience but believe it or not, that's actually good news. The big private rooms are our ICU rooms, so the smaller the room you get, the less sick your child is compared with the kids who have to go into those ICU rooms. That's good news, no? And in the grand scheme of things, it's only a few days and nights of that inconvenience out of the rest of your life with your child. I do my best for you, and sometimes you feel that it isn't enough. And sometimes it isn't, because I can only do what I am allowed to do, but yelling at me or belittling me doesn't change this. All in all, no matter what your background, where you live, or what your income is I will not judge you but do my best to advocate for your child. I understand your frustration with the medical system because, even though I am a part of it, I become frustrated with it as well. When you take your frustration out on me, I understand why you are doing it and I try not to take it personally, but in all honesty sometimes it hurts. I am a your nurse, but I am a person with feelings too. Let's work together for your child.

Sincerely,
Your Paeds Nurse

What the F**K is a Budget Anyway???

So I was at the job (or "in da hood" as we've started calling it), the other day and I expressed to one of my coworkers that I need to put myself on some sort of a budget. Since that day, I've become a bit of a project for her. I think she's worried about me. I think she thinks I'm irresponsible. I actually suspect it's because of a conversation that went something like this:

Heidi: "Okay, so your mortgage comes right out of your bank account. Does your insurance come out of there as well?"

Me: "I think so."

Heidi: "You think so?"

Me: "Yes. I definitely think so."

Heidi: "You don't know?"

Me: "Well it's gotta come out of somewhere. I'm almost sure it's there."

Heidi: "What's the rate on your mortgage?"

Me: "I'm not sure."

Heidi: "What do you mean you're not sure?"

Me: "I took the best one I could get; I just don't recall what that might have been right now."

Heidi: "Ok, so your gas bill comes out of your bank account. Which gas company do you use?"

Me: "I'd know it if I looked at the bill."

Heidi: "Do you have anything outstanding that is going to be coming out of your bank account?"

Me: "Yes. I wrote the plumber a cheque yesterday and took it to his house."

Heidi: "You took it to his house? Is he a friend of yours?"

Me: "No, I had just had the bill for a long time and forgot about it, and then I found it again and I thought I should pay it, but I didn't want him to think I was irresponsible so I took it right to his house and gave it to his wife instead of putting it in the mailbox because it was Friday and I didn't want it to be sitting in the mailbox all weekend without him knowing about it, and then I explained all this to his wife to tell him sorry I hadn't paid sooner and to please not think I'm irresponsible." That may look like a run on sentence, but that's actually how I talk sometimes.

Heidi: "Oh. My. God." **BIG SIGH and a BIG ROLL OF THE EYES**

So now you know why she sees me as a project. I wish I could say that I don't know much about my finances because I have a husband that does all that shit for me, but I don't. It's just me, and all I really care is that I get paid the right amount on the right day. And as an aside, automatic withdrawal is the best thing ever to happen to people like me.

The week after that conversation, I went to the bank. Because they called me to come in. The message on my message machine said they wanted to help me save money, because I obviously don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It may not have been said it in those exact words, but it was certainly implied. When I get called to come in to the bank, I always feel like I'm in the principal's office at school again, but this time I'm getting into trouble for mismanaging my money. When I went in, this "Financial Advisor" started to ask me the exact same questions that she asks me every single time I get hauled into her office. It was becoming incredibly tedious, so I finally said, "My answers are the same as before. They will always be the same because I don't care about this financial stuff. It literally bores me to tears." I got the pursed lip look of disapproval from Financial Advisor at that point and she continued filling out the questionnaire without actually asking me the questions. I thought I heard a big sigh from her too, but I'm not sure because my mind was already wandering at that point. I have always been in Financial Advisor's office for at least an hour at a time, where she tries to convince me to change this or get in to that, and I have no idea what she is talking about. I literally need a translator to walk through the door to talk to the woman. Financial Advisor has never had any patience for me. I think we have conflicting personalities or something. I tend to be a bit more....free spirited.....than she is. I think the same rule should apply to Financial Advisors as to parents: Positive reinforcement is always better than the negative stuff. Do not chastise me for not being interested in money matters, congratulate me that I'm gainfully employed! Praise me for not being unintentionally homeless! Give me a high five for having more than 36 cents in my bank account....hell, give me a pass to cut to the front of the teller line for not going into overdraft all month!

I was actually thinking recently that it might be nice to be more aware of what is going on in my day to day budgeting habits, but it's just one of those things I can't fit into the day. Technically I could, but I have way more cool things to do than count my pennies. Or, more technically nickles, since the penny has been done away with in Canada. Maybe I should just hire Heidi to do it for me.

The Back to School Non-Jitters

As I was going over my work schedule earlier this year, I was ecstatic to see I wasn't working the day shift on the first day back to school in September. This meant my day was free for doing the mommy things in the morning like making breakfast, helping with lunches, and instilling any last bit of my expert advice and reassurance. I have always liked to take the kids up to the school to see which classes they are in and help them make the transition back to the classroom. I remember being at a new school in grade two and being all by myself in the school yard. My mom wasn't as lucky as I am with her work schedule, and couldn't always be there for things like that. I stood at the side of the building and looked in the windows. I walked back and forth, sliding my hand along the window ledge on the outside of the building, hoping that I would become invisible. I knew absolutely no one, and felt conspicuous and totally alone. Even though my kids weren't going to a new school, I still wanted to cushion the experience for them by being there. Okay, that's a bit of a lie. Ty started his very first day of high school yesterday, all handsome in his school uniform, and he didn't want me hanging around either. Although in his defence, he may have been afraid that I'd bring a guinea pig with me. I do shit like that sometimes. Anyway, when I got home from tagging along with the other kids up to the school, I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself. It was the first day of school for the kids, but none of them really seemed to care if I took them or not. It appeared that I had blown my importance in their lives way out of proportion here. I had imagined they would beg me to stay with them, and as they were called into their lineups by their new teachers they would look sadly at me and squeeze my hand one last time before they stared down at the ground and slowly walked over to where their classmates were waiting for them. I'd give the teacher a half smile and a shrug of my shoulders as if to say, "What can I do? They are so attached to me. They just love me too much for words." What actually happened went something like this:

Me: "Hey Ty! Want me to take you up to the school?"

Ty: "Nah, I'm good."

Me: "Are you sure? On your very first day of high school??"

Ty: "Yeah."

Hmmmmm. Okay. That was not the conversation I was expecting. I then insisted on going up to the elementary school with Trent and Trista. They wanted to get up there early to see who their teachers would be, and I knew there would be no yard supervision at that time in the morning. You never knew what might happen at 8:15 am with a group of hyped up kids, so I figured I should be there just in case. Trent sauntered away from me right away and found his class list. Then he found his friends and walked away with them without so much as a goodbye. I may have gotten a slight smile, but I can't totally be sure. I found Trista's class list for her, and she was so happy to see she was with one of her besties who hadn't been in her class the year before. As said bestie walked up and they gave each other an excited little hug, I think I actually did become invisible for a minute.

Me: "Hey Tris, want me to stay until it's time to go inside?"

Trista: "Yeah. No....whatever. It doesn't matter."

Me: "Okay, I'm going to go then."

Trista: "Yeah okay." This was actually said over her shoulder as she was already walking away from me at that point.

So when I got home I updated my Facebook status to say:

"I'm torn right now. I'm not sure if I should be sad that my kids don't really care whether or not I take them to school the first day, or proud that they have grown up confident enough to know that they can absolutely go up there and figure it all out on their own. I walked them up there anyway (but tried to interfere the least I could!)"

I got a lot of great support, telling me that it was normal to be a bit sad and it was also good to be proud, and that independence is a sign of good parenting. But one comment stopped me dead, and really put it in perspective. My friend Troy said,

"Not being a parent I would think that the goal is to raise children to be independent and not dependent...."

I was so wrapped up in feeling like I wasn't needed that I made the whole thing about me. I mean, I have been grooming my kids for independence since....well, always. I myself was a painfully shy child. I had no siblings and didn't really understand other kids, which made situations like the first day of school super stressful, even when I did have friends there. Because of this, I decided long before I had kids that I wanted my children to be sure of themselves and confident. One thing I always despised when I was young was making phone calls, and I felt seriously apprehensive whenever I had to. So I've gotten Ty, Trent and Trista to make their own phone calls to friends and family since they were able to talk. The point being that the more they did it, the more comfortable they would become with it. Now they have no issues calling a store and talking to a stranger to ask a question. Earlier this summer, a friend of mine from work that Trista had never met found herself with an extra ticket to see the Wizard of Oz in Toronto. She asked me if I thought Trista would like to go with her....driving down with an entire bus full of other people she also didn't know. Trista, my brave eight-year-old, said "YES!!" without hesitation. She went to a place she had never been with a person she only knew by my stories from work and had a great time (thanks Heidi!!). My kids have no problem talking with adults, and no difficulties making friends. They are pretty darn comfortable with themselves and, dare I say it, exceptionally independent. I am just so proud of each of them! I've since realized the only reason I was allowed to come to the elementary school yesterday was for a bit of an ulterior motive. Trent's reasoning was that Trista wouldn't be able to see the class lists over the scads of parents and kids that are always crowding around on that first day. So I was essentially critiqued and given the go ahead due to my height advantage. And after a bit of reflection, I'm okay with that.