Intentionality

Hello, Friends. 

I'm going to talk about something that I struggle with a lot, and that's being intentional about how I spend my time. Because I've spent so much of my life with the perception that things just happen to me instead of feeling like I have a say (and let me tell you, I've done some MAJOR work on this over the past 10 or so years, but I still definitely have a long way to go), intentionality ain't my strong suit. I was doing well for about a month recently by spending my time putting self-care at the forefront. Yoga was the way I did this, and it felt great, and I was able to generalize it to other areas of my life with some majorly positive results.

Then I found out about the genetic disorder and was totally overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I'd have to do in the beginning to manage it.

Then a family member had major surgery, which was related to this genetic disorder.

Then like 6 of my clients went into crisis and had to start being seen multiple times a week temporarily.

Then I made some Big Professional Decisions That I Can't Talk About Yet That Also Don't Feel Like They're Real Yet.

Then I realized that my income is going to be cut in more than half for the next two months because I won't be teaching and started unabashedly freaking out even though I know intellectually that we're going to be fine because we've been saving for this time knowing that it's coming.

Then my dog died and had to take the entire week off of work not just for the holiday, but also because I was in no mental place whatsoever to handle the grief AND having to be present with my clients.

Then I had a thyroid biopsy and I have a huge gross bruise on my neck. Thank goodness for scarves, let me tell you.

Yeah, November was a BITCH. Work-wise, every year it is. I'm not sure if it's the holidays, or if people are finally in a groove for the school year and that's when all of the difficulties rear their ugly heads, but regardless of the reason, I was in it. What that means when I'm in it is that I get knocked out of sync with my self-care. I stopped going to yoga. I stopped eating well. I just...stopped. The holidays are also hard for me for a multitude of reasons, and that's not a small piece of the puzzle, especially this year.

This happens from time to time and it costs me a great deal in terms of my mental health in particular. So, I realized what was happening and then I decided to do something different. I got in touch with my therapist to get back into therapy (I always tick up this time of year anyway because holidays), and made a few other intentional decisions, and then I sat down a few minutes ago and looked at the schedule of my yoga studio. I put myself in for five classes this week knowing that the excuses I was making not to go were no longer valid. Not going was keeping me from meeting myself where I was, and it didn't allow me any more space. It wasn't causing me any less stress not to go - if anything, it was making it worse. Regardless of all of that, I was coming up with excuse after excuse after excuse not to go. That all stopped today.

I don't know where it happened (I suspect it started happening before yesterday, but that's when I started noticing it), but something along the way just just...clicked. I was having a really hard time. Like, really hard. Our best friend invited us to go to the park with her son and Ruby and I just...couldn't do it. So I let Rob and Ruby go and sat by myself unraveling a blanket, making a giant yarn ball, and crying. Weird, maybe. But it was what I needed to do for myself at that point in time. I'm doing better today, but I know that things like this are going to happen over the next few weeks. There have been MAJOR ups and downs this week, which will get better with time, and I'm sure are not made any easier by the fact that my thyroid medication changed and it's wreaking all kinds of havoc, to the point where I might call my doctor. I want to ride it out and see if it gets any better and give it a little time and see if my body is able to even out, but we'll see.

Sigh. What I've come to realize (and this was a long time ago that the realization came, I just am not consistent about doing anything about it) is that the chaos in my life will be no less unless I make it so. Sometimes I just have to get out of my own way - if I want less chaos, that's what's got to happen. There's literally no other way than making the choice and realizing that not making the choice is also making a choice.

This post deserves a hashtag. Here it is.

#shitisaytomyclientsallthetimebutdonteverfollowmyself

An Ode to my Beloved Pet

Today, we had to put Miles, the first dog I've ever owned, to sleep. His decline started on Thursday - he was sluggish, lethargic, and struggled to eat. "Maybe he ate something bad while countersurfing", we thought, and felt affirmed on Friday when he appeared to rebound, waking up and immediately wanting to play with Ruby. He was eating, he was doing great. Then Saturday, same thing. I breathed a sigh of relief on Saturday, thinking we were out of the woods.

We very much weren't, I realized, on Saturday night. We went out to do some Christmas shopping and when we returned, he was again sluggish. He had to be coaxed to eat. He was Officially Not Himself. "Let's give it the night," I told myself. "He'll wake up in the morning better just like he did on Friday. This is a passing thing." I think we were both trying to convince ourselves that this was not him telling us that it was time.

He woke me up around 2am, pacing and whining quietly. He tried to lay down, but was up again after a little while, would pace and drink water, rinse and repeat for about 6 hours. Ruby had training class this morning, so Rob agreed to take him to the emergency vet and I would meet them there after class was done. Before he left, we had to have the conversation: If it was really bad or it was going to take something really invasive and drastic to make it ok, would we take those measures? For both of us, it was a resounding no - his quality of life forever being our North Star, we couldn't do that to him. To have tried to prolong his life at the expense of his quality of life would have only benefited us, and after all he has given us in his 9 and a half years, we just couldn't do that. If it was something small that could easily be fixed, absolutely. Fix it. Get him back to his old self. I think at this point we both knew in our hearts and our guts that this wasn't the case. I checked in after we finished and they still hadn't taken him in, but by the time I got there they had and they had an answer: Massive internal bleeding probably from cancer somewhere in his abdomen, or potentially a ruptured spleen. Either way, there was nothing we could do, so we had to let him go.

We got the news and I just...sobbed. And sobbed. I wondered how this could have happened because he got two pristine bloodworks - one in July and one before his dental surgery in September. And then we learned that only one of us could go in with him. I sobbed harder. Rob and I talked about it, and I offered for him to go in - he was Miles' Person, but Rob, ever the compassionate soul that he is, let me go in. We brought him for a cheeseburger, which I ordered through tears at the McDonald's drive through, and I wondered to myself how many people they had done this for. He he didn't eat it, which I expected. Then we brought him back to the vet, Rob said his final goodbyes, we brought him in, I petted him and whispered in his ear that he was the best boy, kissed him one last time between the eyes, which was my favorite place to kiss him, and then let him go.

I don't think I've ever been more anxious about an animal as I was Miles' entire life. I mean, literally from the moment I picked him up from work (I was working at the SPCA at the time) on that March 31 in 2011. We were kindred spirits, he and I, because he was so anxious that we had literally JUST had an appointment with our vet about putting him on drugs like a week ago. A week ago yesterday. The prozac is waiting at CVS right now to be picked up, even. He bonded with both of us right away, but because I was around him more (because I could bring him to work with me at the time), he bonded with me quickly. He bonded with Rob more slowly, but theirs was a love that was so deep and plentiful that I just loved watching them together. I often found myself envious of their bond.

I'm not sure if it was the stigma of owning a pit bull that I had unconsciously internalized (though he never had a single bite in his history ever - but he was a Big Dude, and I remember when he was younger but full-sized, there would be times that I would walk him and because he was so reactive, people would cross the street to the other side, and to top it off, he was a smiler - when he got excited, he'd show you his teeth, which tended to scare people until we explained), or if it was just First Dog Jitters, or a combination of the two. But I was constantly wracked with anxiety the entire nine and a half years that we had him in our lives. My worst nightmare, today, was on my mind all the time, especially in the last year or two. It was with me when he had kennel cough and then a secondary infection, during which he had a chronic cough for a year and a half and there were times I was sure we were going to lose him. It was with me whenever we passed another person or a dog and he got reactive. It was with me when he got into my Jolly Joes when he was six months old. It was with me whenever we had visitors. It was always with me. 100% of the time. There was no reason for it and if I had been able to let it go, the quality of relationship that I had with him may have been better, but the love we had and still have for this dog is a long-burning one. I can say with 100% certainty that we did the right thing today. I can say with 100% certainty that we did our best to make sure that we spoiled him rotten, as he deserved. And he responded in kind by making me feel more loved by a dog than I could have ever dreamed of. What could we do in that unconditional, unabashed, and constantly present love we were being shown? We did everything we could to do right by Miles and show him the love that he has so unconditionally shown us, and that included listening to him when he told us it was time.

Do I grieve? Of course I do. But I'm also filled with this overwhelming sense of relief that we did the right thing and that we gave him the best life possible. I don't know what to do now that he's gone, and there's this sadness and grief that has descended on our house that will dissipate eventually, but his absence is BIG. His absence is felt not only in the not barking at every passer by, or when my neighbors across the street deign to get in their car and drive away or at the mailman or the UPS guy, but also because that anxiety I felt was a huge weight that I now no longer carry, I don't know what to do with that not being present anymore. I'll miss his butt wiggles and him greeting me at the door. I'll miss him licking my feet when I do yoga. I'll miss him wrestling with Ruby and showing her how to dog. I'll miss him just coming and chilling out in my office when we're both in the middle of a work day and my clients cooing at him because he was just SO DAMN CUTE with that FACE. I'll miss his tap dancing whenever he sees us. I'll miss coming downstairs from a session or five in a row to him just chilling on the couch. I'll miss how excited he'd get when we brought out the toys or treats. There are about 15,000 other things that I will carry with me as a result of having him with us, and I have so much gratitude for each of those things that I might burst. But I also know that having those little things with me comes at a cost. Love this big comes with grief in equal measure, so I'm in for it over the next few days and weeks as I adjust to his absence. I've only sobbed randomly once, and so I have hope that this weight will get easier to carry, having no expectation that it's ever going to go away, nor do I want it to because it means that I loved him, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Miles, you're the best first dog a girl could ask for. Thank you, endlessly, for the lessons and the love.

01/31/2011-11/22/2020
(He's also pretending to sleep in this picture which he did VERY
often whenever I tried to take pictures of him.
He absolutely hated having his picture taken.)

This is a bonkers idea. Is this a bonkers idea? This is a bonkers idea.

 Let me tell you what happens when I go off of my thyroid meds because I am absolutely terrible at two things:

1. Taking my medications/supplements regularly

2. Refilling my medications when they run out

I ran out of thyroid meds a week and a half ago. If there is anything that I should take, it's this medication. I've had normal numbers until about a year and a half ago, but various doctors over the years have been like, "you should take it." and then, "Nah, you don't need it. You can stop." and then, "You should take it." and then my naturopath was like "You should definitely take it AND here's a higher dosage."

The difference that I felt after I started taking that higher dosage was nothing short of remarkable. I was less anxious (and that's fun, because depression and anxiety are symptoms of hypothyroid), I slept better, I woke up more refreshed, and I had a clearer head, literally overnight. I was rolling along, taking it (basically) consistently, but having hiccups here and there, and really struggling to take it whenever my routine got thrown off, like on the weekends. That's one that will be a perpetual struggle, I think.

But, running out of medications. Right. So, I ran out a week and a half ago. "No big deal," I thought. "I'll just pick it up in the next few days."

And then I didn't. And then I didn't again. And then I started to feel sluggish. And angry. And just...heated. The only way that I can describe it was that it felt like someone had turned up my internal stove (except I was cold all the time) and I was just...not great. I was foggy, I was anxious, and I just was a pretty hard person to be around. I had been feeling like I'd been fighting something for a few days, and lo and behold, it was my thyroid. AND YET, I sat there the WHOLE DAMN TIME wondering why I was feeling that way, and pinning it to my Election Week Diet, which was terrible. I ate macaroni and cheese four nights in a row, that kind of terrible. I figured if I could fix my diet and get myself back to a place of balance in what I was putting in my body, then I'd feel better.

And then I didn't. At that same time, I also realized that I hadn't taken my thyroid meds in a week and a half. I just hadn't made the connection. Unbelievable. (I ALSO TRIED AND FAILED YOGA TWICE THIS WEEK AND COULDN'T FRIGGING FIGURE OUT WHY.)

I hopped back on the thyroid medication train this morning and I feel a world of difference already. I'm clearer, I'm feeling better, and I have energy to move around and stuff instead of just shuffling myself from one thing to the next, hoping that I'd be able to go to bed soon, please, or maybe I'll just nap in my work chair because I'm so overwhelmed that I feel like that's all I can do.

Right. On to my bonkers idea.

I was feeling a lot of internal noise all of a sudden earlier today and thought, "Oh good, my body is finally awaking from this damn stupor." On a break I had been reading Ask A Manager, one of my favorite blogs. The advice she gives is spot on, and I just love reading it.

And then my brain just...barfed something out that totally stunned me. I literally felt like I had been jolted by something.

Write an advice column about ethics for counselors. Start a blog, advertise to my social media groups, have people write in with their hypothetical counseling ethical conundrums, and take it from there, with eventually monetizing it. I need to tease it out from a liability standpoint to make sure I don't get sued, and I need to make sure that I cover myself as entirely as possible, but I think I'm going to do it.

I have some other irons in the fire that I'm trying to work out in the coming weeks, but that's what happens when your thyroid counts normalize; you can actually think and plan and, you know, do things you like because you actually like them and not because you feel like you have to or that it's a chore because everything's a chore when you don't feel well for reasons you can't pinpoint.

And go to your thyroid doctor, even if you know that it will probably end in a biopsy because you're three years late for the one you have to get every 10 years. Oops.

Genetic Disorders and a Rant About Patriarchal Bullshit

A few weeks ago, I found out that I have a genetic disorder that puts me at markedly higher risk for reproductive and colon cancers. As a result, 10 years earlier than someone without this disorder, I have to start getting colonoscopies. I also have a hunch that really invasive pap smears are in my future. Instead of once every 5-10 years for colonoscopies, I have to get one every one to two years. Also, I may be a candidate for a hysterectomy. I'll know more when I go to the doctor about it in November, but that's the preview that the genetic counselor I've been seeing gave to me.

Except, probably not. If I'm given the option between keeping my baby box and not, I'd opt not if given the option. Except I probably won't be given the option because I'm still of childbearing age. It is of literally no consequence to me whatsoever whether or not I have a uterus, but if I say that to a doctor, that likely won't matter. Unless I see a childfree-friendly doctor, the decision about this isn't actually going to be mine about when I get to make this decision if I'm ever a candidate for it, which I will be one day.

Do you know the one thing, the one thing that fills me absolutely so full of rage that I am almost blinded by it? That if I want to have any kind of reproductive surgery - salpingectomy, hysterectomy, whatever it is, even if there's a health risk for me to not do it, I have to get my husband's permission, and even then, if the doctor doesn't feel comfortable doing it, then it won't happen.

My risk of uterine cancer is double what it would be if I didn't have this disorder. My risk of ovarian cancer is nearly doubled. My risk of colorectal cancer is more than doubled. But let's make sure that I can have those kids that I've never wanted, and that my husband gives me his permission first before my decision about my body for my own health and safety can be honored, and then only maybe.

This chafes my ass for two reasons: First, it's patriarchal bullshit, through and through. Absolutely. Second, what happened to the Hippocratic oath? First, do no harm? How does it benefit me to keep my baby box, especially if doing so could cause me a marked amount of suffering in the future? And, why does that decision about my body actually rest with my spouse and my doctor? Why isn't that decision mine?

I go back to patriarchal bullshit. I'm trying not to get preemptively mad about it, but I'm finding it difficult. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe the doctor that I see will be more childfree-friendly. Maybe they won't see it as a huge worry right now and thrusting myself into menopause at 40 won't be the best idea (though it would not be entirely unwelcome, I'll tell you that) for reasons that I haven't thought of, and I'm sure there are several. Who knows. I'll continue to stew about it until mid-November, which is when my first appointment is.

I will say, though, thank goodness for finding this out early before anything happens. I'm surprisingly chill about it, but I think it's more about the fact that I literally can't do anything about it - it's written in my genes - so why panic? I'm sure the panic will set in when I have to have a colonoscopy for the first time (I've heard that it's a colossally unpleasant experience) or any other number of medical procedures that I may have to have as a result of this diagnosis.

You know what I keep thinking about that, though? It won't be chemo. There's certainly something to be said about that.

The Biggest Benefit of Online Yoga and Yelling

Let me tell you, friends. I am SO happy that I have started yoga again. I am also very happy that I'm doing half online and half in person every week, and let me tell you why: The in-person classes are a true exercise in impulse control. I make this more meaningful because in the online classes, my screen is off and I'm muted, so I swear at that teacher like a sailor. I yell at them sometimes and it is SO CATHARTIC I CAN'T EVEN. I can't do that in in-person classes (I'm not one for talking all that much while I'm trying to do yoga - it's hard enough without conversation), and so I have to really be mindful of what comes out of my mouth. I did let an f-word slip a week or so ago in an in-studio class and the instructor laughed pretty hard, but they were making me do a side plank and SIDE PLANK IS THE DEVIL.

This is side plank. I don't actually look anything like this when I'm doing it because I'm still so clumsy.

Today, I took a core yoga class. It's murderously hard, but I never fail to feel better afterward. (It also helps that I wasn't having a massive reaction to red meat this time, so I was actually able to participate without nearly barfing.) I really like the teacher, and unexpectedly, he had us go to side plank from down dog. Terrible. That was when I started swearing. Then, shockingly, I yelled - "YOU CAN'T JUST TELL US TO DO A SIDE PLANK WITH NO WARNING! WHO DOES THAT? WHAT ARE YOU - A F&#CKING SADIST? YOU ARE THE WORST. AND FROM DOWN DOG OF ALL POSITIONS. YOU SUCK."

Luckily I was muted and I didn't have video on. I still have yet to do a successful side plank, but I'm getting there. I was actually able to take my knees off of the floor for a couple of seconds each side, so that ain't nothing.

I'm getting stronger every time I do a class, and I'm finding that the more accepting of myself and present that I am in these classes, the more accepting I am of myself in general, which feels really nice. I desperately needed some time to just...put everything away, and now three to five times a week for an hour or so, I do just that. I'm more productive, I feel more effective, and I just...feel better.

I'm also more tolerant of my asshole dogs who decide, without fail, that while I'm in yoga is the perfect time to wrestle. I've learned to tune it out, so that's also nice. Also, I'm taking the good with the bad, because they've started cuddling and it's basically the cutest thing ever.

Also, Miles loves yoga mats and Ruby loves peeing on yoga mats, so I've found myself being more careful about things. She also loves chewing yoga blocks and does the best up dog I've ever seen in my whole life. I'm jealous of her form.

He's ready for yoga class to start now, please. He also uses certain positions when he takes the opportunity to unabashedly lick my face or the bottoms of my feet because he's super helpful and hilarious.

 

Another funny thing that has happened is that I changed my profile picture on Zoom to my bitmoji, and I forgot that I did that and now it's my picture for yoga class. I went to sign up for the 20% off deal that they have once the one-month membership is up, and the person that I emailed with about it was like "Your Zoom picture makes me smile every time!"

So, self-care is going great, currently. I've got some things coming down the pike that may make the wheels fall off the wagon, but I'm already seeing how temporary it is because the semester ends in four weeks, so I'll have every Thursday off starting in early December through the end of January, and no, I'm absolutely not filling that time, even in the short-term. I am STOKED.

Meeting Myself Where I Am

It's hard to meet yourself where you are, and it's a pretty consistent struggle for me. I always have this impulse (not instinct - I thought it was for a long time, but it's not) to just push through no matter what I'm feeling. Yes, it's hard, but this too shall pass, so I might as well just buckle down and do it now.

This may be a great strategy for some, but it turns out that it's a TERRIBLE strategy for me. I'm finding that more adaptive ways are creeping in, and it's feeling REALLY empowering. For instance, I don't wait more than 15 minutes for a client to come on to a Zoom call. That was where it started, actually. I found myself sitting here and waiting and how long do I wait and should I wait the whole hour? I had a REALLY resounding "no" happening and I paid full attention to it from minute one. I've had a few people push back, but what I say is that this is regular therapy, even if it's a different medium, and so the same rules apply as they would if we were meeting in-person, which either includes being on time for session or letting me know if you're going to be late.

It has also started to happen with yoga class. There were a few times the first week where I was just...not mentally there. So I didn't push it. I was going along great, and then today (right this minute, actually) happened.

I tried a new teacher today, and I was hopeful - all of the other teachers that I've taken classes with have been GREAT. They're gentle but they also push and it's just the balance I need. I signed on this morning fully expecting to take a class with one of those teachers, and someone else came in as a sub unexpectedly. "Ok," I told myself; "I'll have an open mind about this. This won't be bad."

Oh, friends. Today is where I learned the lesson that not every yoga teacher is a good fit. She talked for the first fifteen minutes of class. Ridiculous. I don't need to hear your internal narrative about life, lady. I do that for my day job, and I didn't come to yoga class to hear it all over again. NO THANKS. But then we started to get into the poses and SHE DIDN'T STOP TALKING. I have the video muted because I don't want to be totally rude and just sign off of the Zoom call, but I guarantee that if I unmuted it, she'd still be gabbing away.

What I'm also positive about, along with the fact that she's not a good fit for me, is that it's also partly me. I have to acknowledge that because I see 10 clients on Tuesdays, Wednesdays are probably not the best day for me to do yoga. I've tried the past two Wednesdays and struggled to the point of not being able to get through a class each time. There's a pattern here, and I have to acknowledge that where I am in my head is a large part of that.

But still. There's a time for talking and a time for not, Lady. 

Joyous Exertion

 Friends, starting yoga again was potentially the best thing I've done for myself in years.

The first week was hard. Like, really hard. I couldn't concentrate because of the dogs, and the in-person classes that I went to were really hard. I also found every possible reason to fail and blamed those things for my failure rather than trying my hardest and sticking it out. The dogs were playing too loud and I couldn't concentrate. Ruby had to constantly pee. Then she would whine when I put her in her pen with 15 different toys and a jar of peanut butter (not really, but that's what it felt like). Then the room was too cold. Then Ruby peed on my yoga mat and that was all I could smell even after I cleaned it thoroughly. Then the room was too hot. Then I had no clean yoga pants. Then the room was too cold again. The floor was too hard. My feet kept slipping when I got sweaty and now I have this thing going on with my big toes because I depend on them too much in the more common poses. Then Miles insisted on licking my face for the entirety of shavasana that one time. Then Rob didn't stop the dogs from playing and have a VERY energetic 9-year-old dog and a 5-month old puppy sit still for 90 minutes and that's a totally reasonable expectation so WHY CAN'T HE DO IT. 

The thing about it was that I was scared. Of what? I don't know. Having more mobility? having more physical ability? An opportunity to not just sit my ass in a chair all day every day? Having to buy cute workout pants? That nothing will change in spite of my efforts (which is patently untrue, even two weeks later as I'm typing this)? The most unfortunate part of this was I spent a week being mad at my dogs and my husband in ways that they certainly did not deserve. 

Then I did another week and it got a little easier. I found out the hard way that red meat is on the no no list for me and then in the middle of all of that and tried to do a Core yoga class while having a pretty bad reaction to it, which turned out to not be the most helpful decision ever.

Then Friday happened. I changed my scenery a little bit by doing yoga in my living room instead of my office, and I think that was one small change that made it instantly easier. I pushed myself to do all of the poses and move through the vinyasas, and it just felt...easier.

Then came my class that I went to in-person Saturday. I told myself that I was going to push myself this time. I wasn't going to automatically revert to child's pose if I thought I couldn't do it - I was going to do basically the yoga equivalent of a "no thank you" bite. You know what happened? I DID IT. ALL OF IT. It wasn't easy, and I sweat a lot and swore to myself a lot and I almost fell a couple of times, but I did it. To say I felt amazing was an understatement. I'd moved my body in ways it hasn't seen in years, and I felt so accomplished and amazing.

Then came yesterday. I was doing my class online and it was the same type of class as the in-person one from Saturday, a Flow class. I love flow classes! It was with a different teacher and I was doing it at home and I felt a little nervous because I'd never taken a class with this teacher before, but I was going to tough it out. This teacher was basically satan (not really, but I sure swore at her a lot.). My legs hurt so bad today, and I left that class mad that it was so hard. But I did it. Every bit of it. Even Lizard Pose, which is basically the worst pose in the history of yoga poses. Also, you can't see it in this picture, but that front leg comes down and away from the body. HOW DOES ONE EVEN CONTORT THEIR BODY THIS WAY AND HAVE IT STILL FEEL GOOD? I suspect I will never know the answer to this question. BONKERS. AND THEN THERE'S THE FLYING LIZARD POSE IN WHICH YOU COME UP ON YOUR ARMS. YOUR ARMS, PEOPLE! 

What I've discovered is that I totally have a mental block about exercise of any kind, even if it's fun and I like it, and yoga fits very much into this category. I start off with the assumption that I can't do it, so I shouldn't even try, and then the wheels fall off the wagon from there. What I love about yoga is that you can meet yourself exactly where you are - no assumptions, no judgment. If you're in a mental place to push yourself a little further, great! But it's not a requirement. There's no pressure whatsoever to do something you can't/shouldn't or be someone you're not. 

What I've realized is that my block around exercise is totally, totally mental. I used to think that the problem was that I had this mentality of "what does it matter?" and while that thinking is problematic in and of itself, the actual root of that problem weed was that I start with the assumption that I can't do it. I can't do it and I'm going to give it up in frustration at some point anyway, so what does it matter? I was quitting before I even started! And then, if it got hard, my assumption that I couldn't do it was confirmed - see? I can't do it! I have been trapped in total black-and-white thinking about my ability to exercise for probably my entire life. Hello, gray area, very nice to meet you in this area of my life finally. I see you like the word "yet" at the end of my problematic thought here and that's uncomfortable for me, but it's getting easier. I appreciate your arrival and hope that you stay.

The moment you realize you're trapped in a problematic cycle of thinking is the moment you become freer from it, to a point. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one, is what I'm saying. The thing is, I've known for years that I was trapped in this cycle, but I couldn't dig into the "yeah, but what's really happening here" underneath the "what does it matter" thought. I knew there was something there underneath it, but for some reason, I wasn't able to access it. Yoga helped me access that assumption that I can't do it and start to challenge it.

I'm not to the generalizing part of it yet, and I'm hoping I'll get there. I want to start running again and I want to mentally be able to tolerate hiking (what I've discovered is that it's about the pressure of summiting that I hate about it, so that's a step, even if I don't know what I want to do with that information yet), but I'm not there for either of those things yet. It's a process, as all things are.