100 Days of Healing – Day 23 & 24

I’m trying to both do more things that I enjoy and enjoy more things that I do. Yesterday I traveled across the desert, drank a lot of wine, soaked up the landscape and got rained on. There’s something about me and rain in the desert. I was at Uluru in the middle of Australia twelve years ago and it rained on the full day I was out there hiking – so much so that the rock turned to waterfalls and the desert became green. They said it happens once or twice a year. Yesterday wasn’t as dramatic, but the 20 degree drop in temps due to the rain was a nice change.

When I stopped for the night, my mind turned to how unready I am to carry on with the work of life. I’ve been wondering how substantial the changes I need to make in my lifestyle might need to be for me to be whole, for me to step away from frayed nerves and a perpetually high alert nervous system. It’s not a peaceful way to live, and the recovery time from doing that for several years seems…insurmountable.

I’ve walked more than 20 miles this week, most of it in two big hikes that have left my muscles sore and the rest of me really tired. 20 miles in a week is not a lot, and less than when I’m walking in the evenings at home. However, these 20 miles had a lot of uphill or uprock, some downhill so steep I had to go down backwards and temps that sucked the air out of me. All of my wrinkles are showing, because as much as I drink I need MORE WATER, constantly. It’s not a bad mantra, actually. More water.

Wear the Bikini

“Body be bangin'” is not a phrase I’d use to describe myself. The trauma weight gain, the lack of exercise, the uneven tan lines that are definitely not from trying to tan, the cellulite, the glow in the dark pale of some of me…I’m not bikini ready.

My therapist’s blunt but change-provoking comment a few weeks ago that I don’t love myself has now manifested in me changing my attitude about that bikini. I date a guy who loves the water, and summer is here, therefore we need to be in the water. He enjoys the water so much that he can’t keep it to himself, I need to enjoy it too, not sit on a rock on the side of the river or the side of the pool or on the boat dock – or anywhere that lets me stay in the relative safety and comfort of a cover up.

I haven’t bought a new swimsuit in…maybe 7 years? So mine is losing its elasticity, I realized, even though the material has held its color, and it was and still looks like an expensive, cute bikini. The stretching has kept up with my stretching, so it still fits somehow and it will work fine until I can find another one.

Side note: to fit my boobs in swimwear, it’s a trip to a high end retailer or two or ten, and I don’t trust shopping online. And while a lot of stores are carrying styles and sizes that are much improved for curvier women, it is hard enough to find a bra, much less a swimsuit, that will work for my body, so finding a new one is (was?) way low on my list of priorities until the one I have comes to pieces.

So here I am not confident in my body, knowing I’ll spend the summer around people who are much more cute and slender and fit than I, being expected to join in the water-based fun and do so in swimwear. And I’m facing this right as I’m informed that I don’t love myself.

I did one of the bravest things I’ve done in a long time. I said to hell with it, I’m not going to feel bad about myself, I’m going to enjoy the opportunity to get outside and have fun with people I like hanging out with and I’m going to let my boyfriend push me out of my comfort zone, which he also seems to really like doing. So I dropped the cover up on the table by the pool last week and on the table on the boat dock yesterday, and stood there like I had every reason in the world to feel good about myself. And I did feel good about myself, for the first time since probably the first year I owned that bikini. And I feel better about myself today, having done that.

Less Sugar, More Pissed

I have the new phone, the new laptop is here and I’m still rigging my way around the challenges of staying with my grandma.

I unintentionally slowed my roll on mindless stress eating this week. I mean I know I cut way back on sugar and gluten, and I mostly quit snacking, but I don’t know that it was with some big diet intention.

I sit around a lot in a dark apartment, and this crisis wasn’t going to make me gain weight too, is all.

My PTSD brain likes sugar. So. Much. Sugar, carbs and fat are my drug of choice since I don’t smoke and rarely drink, and right now my brain is pissed that it’s not getting what it wants.

Y’all. I didn’t even get any food at Chick-Fil-A when I stopped by for my free bottle of water.

My brain is so pissed.

I had the idea that I could only did this when I was in a low stress time and could really delve into food and fitness changes. Once again I’m surprising myself with what I can do with mindfulness.

And a new makeup bag to fit all of my new makeup…