(Quick note to the poll voter who chose “Get a life, woman, it’s only a blog”–thanks for having the balls to choose that one. You’re right. :))
In the ongoing quest to “discover” myself, I have learned that I only change when it’s a crisis. For as much as I plan, for as forward-thinking as I am, I apparently only make changes when things have hit red-zone crisis level. I’m sure I’m not the only one with this quirk, but it came as a surprise to me. For example:
- Got my wisdom teeth out only after one was hard-impacted, one was soft-impacted, and the other two were in revolt. This was after several years of my dentist/orthodontist warning that I really should get them removed. Finally made the decision after pain radiated from my jaw to the small of my back.
- Had my tonsils out only after contracting mono (the first time) my freshman year of college and having to go on steroids to get the swelling to go down because the clinic was afraid I’d suffocate in my sleep. This was not my choice; I wanted those suckers out when I was eight, doctors refused.
- Changed my diet and worked on stress levels last spring after I crashed with full-blown burnout.
- Smothered my husband with his pillow after listening to him snore in my ear for an hour…damn, I’ve said too much.
I’ve been suffering with a stiff neck since December or so. Maybe a little before. This is no run of the mill stiff neck. Oh, no, I can’t just have a little pain and be over it. That’d be too easy, too common. This is the mother of all stiff necks. I can’t turn my head to check for traffic when I drive, I have to turn my whole upper body. Playing my flute is ok…until I’m done and my neck creaks like an old door. It’s gotten to the point that I’m vaguely nauseous most of the day (and, no, not pregnant). I have headaches in my eyes because, and this is weird: I have narrow glasses, it hurts to move my head to get things focused, so I look above and below the lens (out of focus) and my eyes doth protesteth.
I’m hurtin’, is what I’m sayin’.
It’s from sitting at the computer most of day. It’s from a craptastic mattress (I’ve already replaced my pillow). It’s from the slight case of scoliosis I have. It’s from getting older. It’s from not going to the chiropractor as often as I should (which would be easier if he had reliable office hours!!!) But, mostly, I suspect it’s from not moving as much as should.
I don’t exercise. There. I’ve said it. I don’t exercise. Saying that in Colorado is like saying you think the Broncos suck and you love wind and that the mountains are overrated. This is the fittest state in the country. Athletes come here to train because of the weather and altitude and overall coolness of the area. But not me. I don’t ski, I rarely hike, and I’d rather slam my head in a door than go for an afternoon-long run.
And I’m paying for it.
My mother in law has suffered with neck and shoulder pain for as long as Tom can remember. She’s had several surgeries for them, and is still in pain. It’s a good thing that most of her grandchildren are older, as holding and carrying and lifting kids is difficult, if not impossible, for her. Several years ago, when I was doing yoga, I suggested she find a yoga class at the local YMCA to help with the pain and maybe prevent further injury. While she was politely nodding, she also had this look in her eye as though I had just grown a third arm and was using it to publicly pick my nose and wipe it on my shirt.
My mom is in maintenance mode, as she puts it. Just keep things from falling apart further. She also has mild arthritis.
I’m at the bottom V of a combined family history of damned near every craptastic thing that can befall a person medically. Heart disease, cancer, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s (a very strong family history, so when I laugh about it, I laugh to keep from screaming…and it’s a big reason why I write here; I’m likely to get it and I want some record of my memories), general dementia, you name it it’s likely there.
So apparently I’m finally in crisis mode and willing to make changes. Unfortunately, I’m an “all or nothing” personality. I can’t just do a little exercise, I have to really exercise. If I do just a little (oh, some here and there), it’s too easy for me to give up. I have to do it, and I have to be held accountable. Accountable to my body (see: extreme tiredness from eating wheat) or to another person (see: flute lessons with a teacher) or to God and the whole world (see: did seven flute recitals in college).
Here’s the problem. When the absolute #@$&* am I supposed to wedge this into my already frakked up beyond belief schedule? Seriously…it’s almost 10 am right now and I’m still in my pajamas. One kid is off to school, the second load of laundry is in, dinner is planned (and will be prepped for the crockpot as soon as this rambling tome is finished)… And don’t even suggest getting up earlier. Just.Don’t.
So I’m searching for a yoga class that doesn’t meet at 6 am or 7:30 pm, doesn’t cost an arm or leg, has available childcare (if it meets when I have J), or doesn’t involve driving 40 minutes into Boulder. I’m failing miserably. I really want to do yoga, because it’s something I know I can do. It doesn’t involve embarrassing myself in a class or getting into a swimsuit. And it soothes my mind and soul as well as heal my body. Yes, I could do it here at home, but I need the accountability of a class.
My neck and I are anxious to find a class, so we can get along again. Call it couples therapy for me and that body part. We haven’t been getting along well, and we need to go get in touch with each other once more.
And then I’ll be able to smother my snoring husband more efficiently, and drop off to a pain-free dreamland.