Betrayed By My Body

 I've been doing pretty well with my exercise routine. I love the ease of using my walking pad, and how I can just slide it under the bed when I'm finished. Much better than that huge treadmill.

So tonight, when I hopped on the walking pad, put on my music, and started walking, I looked forward to listening to some good tunes and getting a burst of adrenaline. Then out of nowhere, my head began to throb. I tried to ignore it, considering I'd just had a migraine on Sunday, and had given myself all day yesterday to recover. I thought my headphones might be too tight, so I loosened them, but that didn't work. I took down my hair and clipped it at the base of my neck. That didn't work, either. I still kept pushing.

But the longer I walked, the worse my head felt. I finally admitted defeat and by the time I stepped off the walking pad, I had a full-blown migraine I have no idea what caused it. 

A few hours later, it's finally calmed down to a dull roar, but I am so damn frustrated. I wanted to exercise, craved it, in fact, after two days of inactivity. Yet again, my body betrayed me. Instead of exercising, then working on my novel, I had to put both those things on hold. Again.

I've lived with migraines since high school. While Botox shots every three months keep them at bay for the most part, I still live with daily headaches. I've exhausted treatment options and medications. Even when I have a migraine, I can't find a medicine that works to treat it (my neurologist and I have tried so many that I've lost count). 

So I suffer. 

Sigh.

This sounds like a "poor me" post. It's really just a "I'm frustrated so I need to vent" post. That's the beauty of blogging. I can write whatever I like.

To top all this off, another agent rejection showed up in my inbox. I'm about done trying to sell this novel. No one wants it. Might as well accept it at this point, and keep moving forward on the current WIP.

Though you'd think a novel about fascism and antisemitism in WW2 America might be relevant right about now...but who can understand the publishing business? Not me.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite pieces of art that I saw on my Scotland trip.

This piece, entitled "Reverend Walker" was painted by Sir Henry Raeburn and hangs in the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh. I bought a print of this and it's currently hanging in my apartment

The Dreaded R Word: Routine

For years, I didn't think I did well with routines. I was a free spirit! Just let me do whatever, whenever!

Hahahahaha. 

The last two weeks have shown me how completely and totally wrong I am. I need a routine. I thrive when I'm in a routine. I feel better physically and emotionally when I'm in a routine. I can hardly believe it, yet it's the truth.

Ever since the pandemic hit and I started working from home full time, I pretty much created my own schedule. There were some days, if I wasn't feeling good, that I would sleep in, then just work extra hours. Other days, I'd work a fairly regular schedule. But in the last year or so, I really had no schedule at all. I did the work, did it well, and met my deadlines. But my sleep schedule was all over the place, and there were days I was working on day job stuff at 1 p.m.

Not ideal.

I loved it, though, as I could set my own hours. I felt as though I had an immense amount of freedom, and that is certainly true. If I needed to take a few hours in the afternoon to run some errands, I could do it, then just work some extra hours later. Other days, I'd be up super early, do some work, then sleep another few hours, do some work, and then I'd crawl into bed around 2:30 a.m. or so. Some nights it was earlier; others, it was later. I guess it was a kind of routine, but my mood and how I felt physically was all over the place.

I didn't realize how all over the place it was until I started my new job. Up at 8. Steady work throughout the day with a lunch break. And then quit at 5 p.m. I now go to bed around midnight or 1 a.m. (still need to make it closer to midnight) which means I have about seven hours to do what needs to be done after 5 p.m.: working on freelance projects, reading, exercising, and writing. I always watch a movie or a few episodes of TV every day, and lately, I've started playing Tetris on my daughter's old PlayStation 2. It helps me to unwind. (I need to get back to my jigsaw puzzles!)

I've noticed a significant difference in how I feel emotionally and physically. It reminds me of when I was staying at home with my kids, and thought I had all the time in the world to write, to exercise, to do whatever I wanted. I didn't end up finishing the novel I began when my daughter was a baby until she was five years old and I'd started working full time. I joined Curves (remember Curves?) and started working out. In other words, I had a set routine that forced me to make time for my writing and prioritize my health.

Of course, even with my weird schedule of the last few years, I finished two novels - in fact, I wrote a novel in less than nine months. That's because I made a promise to myself to work on it nearly every day, and I kept that promise. I also worked out whenever I could. But I had a lot more days when I felt pretty rotten. 

I still have days where I feel rotten because fibromyalgia and ME/CFS don't take vacations. But they seem to be behaving themselves because I'm on a routine. 

I'm also inclined to think it's something else: I no longer live with a man.

Trauma does crazy things to our bodies. I lived with a narcissistic, abusive man for 18 years (which is why I developed fibromyalgia and ME/CFS) and my body was constantly in fight or flight mode. While my boyfriend is nothing like my ex-husband, he is still a man, and I really do think my body never felt safe in our shared home. Now that I'm in my own space, my body does feel safe. That's my theory, anyway.

So. The dreaded Routine, a lifestyle I eschewed for so long, has now become my best friend.

Who'd have thought?

And...Breathe

It's been ten years since I've had to have a "first day on the new job" experience. I forgot how terrifying it can be. When last Tuesday morning rolled around, the first day of the job, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. But I made it through, tucking away my terrified introvert and putting on my extrovert persona, but doubts began to plague me: had I made the right decision? Would I be a good fit for this company? Would my coworkers like me? I felt overwhelmed and unsure. But I kept telling myself, "This is normal, completely normal. Give yourself time to adjust."

As the days went by and I started to meet more coworkers and learn more about the products, our process, etc., the anxiety started to ease. By last Friday, it had disappeared, and I knew I was in the right place. It's a challenge to learn a new job and tackle new projects, but I welcome it. I'd grown stagnant at my last job and that was one of the reasons I wanted and needed a different job.

There will be challenges ahead, of course, and perhaps some difficult times. But I'm staying the course.

Oddly enough, the biggest adjustment I had to make was my sleep schedule! That has improved, as well. 

I'm also back to exercising. I bought a walking pad and have used it a few times now, and it's so easy to just slide it under the bed when I'm finished. I'm trying to eat healthy because I need to lose some weight for health reasons, but it's proving difficult. Still. One day at a time, and lots of grace!

The new walking pad!

I've returned to editing my novel, and feel fully immersed in the story. Even better? I'm excited about it again! 

Life is starting to settle into a routine. I've discovered I need a routine to stay on track and accomplish my goals. In fact, I'm making all sorts of discoveries about myself. I feel healthier emotionally and physically living without my partner. I don't know exactly what that means, but for right now, I'm going to embrace it and accept it. 

The last two months definitely stretched me, but in good ways. 

I'll take it!