I have this favorite shirt. It’s a shirt I liberated from M’s side of the closet when we first moved in together. I staked a claim on that baby, and it’s been mine for the past 8 years. I gradually stopped wearing it after I got pregnant with Butter, and all but forgot it existed when I was pregnant with Bear.
The weather is crummy today. When we got home from church, all I wanted to do was throw on a pair of sweat pants and a comfy shirt. I calmly walked upstairs to change and thought, “Oh! My shirt!” I dug through the closet, excited at the prospect of a body with no more squatters, ready to pull my favorite shirt over my head and snuggle up with my boys.
When I walked downstairs to watch the Steelers game, M asked me what was wrong. “Um,” I fidgeted, “this shirt. Remember how it used to be huge on me?”
It was a wake up call for me. My favorite shirt doesn’t not fit me, it’s just not as big and comfy as it once was. It’s a little tighter across the chest, and a lot tighter in my tummy.
I have to do something. I have been doing something, but it’s clearly not enough. I have to get over my fear of restarting the Couch to 5K process. Since August 2011, when I was told it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to run in the summer, I haven’t done it. The treadmill is sitting in our basement as a dumping ground for the things we toss down there and plan to sort when we have free time. I have a fantastic yoga DVD I never do, because lately I haven’t been sleeping well And yes, I know starting the process of exercising again will help my sleeping issues.
My alarm is already set for 5:30. I just have to hope Bear doesn’t repeat his screaming fit in the middle of the night tonight.
For a while, I was really motivated. I don’t know what has changed, but I’m just . . . not any more.
It’s not like I like the way I look right now. I actually hate it. I want to be healthy for my kids. I want to be healthy for my husband. I want to be healthy for me.
You know what? I actually do know what has changed.
I’m still not working. I’m still home with the boys every day, and I don’t mind that as much as I make it seem like I do, but as I’ve said before, I am not cut out to be a stay at home mom. If I can’t even find the motivation to clean my house beyond doing laundry and maintaining the already cluttered state, why do I assume I’m going to find the motivation to make me better?
And it’s not like I’m not trying to find a job, or to find the motivation to change something about myself so eating better [we honestly eat pretty healthy as a general rule anyway] or exercising becomes an actual option. I want to get up in the morning and get my runs in, but I don’t because I don’t often to get sleep before two a.m. The boys are up around 6:45 every day, and when I’m not sleeping until around two, getting up at five to try and run and shower before they wake up just doesn’t seem like a good idea to me. I know if I did get up and run, I’d probably get to sleep a little easier at night. But then, that’s never been me. If I can’t turn my brain off [which has been a big deal for me lately; I cannot shut the voice that worries off for anything], I can’t sleep. When I finally do get to sleep, it’s because my body has given in to what I know it needs in the first place. I also know running on around 4-6 hours of sleep a day is not good for anyone, and studies have shown lack of sleep leads to weight gain.
I’m frustrated, I’m tired, and I want to do better with this. I just don’t know how to help myself. If you have suggestions, I would love them.