So you remember that self-care chart I was talking about? Well, I actually printed it out and am using it. It’s like I actually want to feel good!
Oh wait, I do! 🙂
Luckily for me, I woke up this morning feeling hopeful as opposed to hopeless, and that made it a lot easier to pull on some jeans and take my dog for a walk in the cold, despite the fact that I’ve injured my left leg during exercise at the gym. I’m not sure what I did to bruise my Achilles tendon, but it seriously hurts to even stand for very long, let alone to put weight on my left leg. I think that means I need to take some time off from the treadmill, but not time off from working out, because I need the positive effects of exercise for my overall health. Maybe I can talk Adam into swimming with me. The YMCA we go to does have a pool, and we haven’t taken advantage of that yet.
One thing that I am very proud of is that Adam and I are now regular gym-goers. We’re there at least every other day, working out. It’s been good for our health and for our relationship, not to mention good for self esteem for both of us. I know that I at least feel more empowered, and that I feel prettier and better about myself when we go. It’s also good to see Adam shake off the stress from work when he’s had a good run, and it’s been awesome to see how supportive we are of each other. I feel really lucky to have a built in gym-buddy in my marriage. I’m lucky.
The New Kitten Hotness
Last night, we headed out to Romeoville to pick up some new foster kittens. We now have two 7-week old kittens that we’re taking care of, and they’re adorable. We’ve named them Princess Peach (because she’s cream-colored and wonderfully affectionate) and Mario (because it goes w/ the Princess and he can jump extra high!)
In other news, I’m finally starting on a project that I’ve never done before: scrapbooking. I got a glue stick, a baby magazine, some cool paper, and I’m gonna see if I remember how to collage. A good friend suggested putting together a baby scrapbook to make the whole “having a kid” thing more tangible and realistic. I will tell you, just having a baby magazine and reading through it made the whole thing a little more real — and a little more scary. (Have you read the articles on cracked nipples? Just reading the term makes me cringe!)
Recognizing The Need For True Integration
And to be frank, even though the person who suggested that I scrapbook was Adam’s friend first, it doesn’t make him any less my friend too. For too long, I’ve had a really shitty outlook of “I don’t have any friends here.” and that really is a slap in the face to all the wonderful people who have taken me under their wing here as Adam’s wife. They don’t have to care about me, or treat me nice, but they do, and I’m thankful for that.
For the longest time, when I moved here, I was so wrapped up in the anxiety of how I felt about what was going on in my own life that I forgot that when I married Adam, I became a part of his family too. I saw myself as separate and apart from everyone else, and didn’t feel like a part of the Majka family, but just someone who wore the last name. It wasn’t until this past Thanksgiving that I really felt comfortable with everyone… and that’s two years into our marriage. And it’s no one’s fault but my own.
I think — no, I know — that half the time, I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin. And it can’t be comfortable for anyone to want to be close to me when I can’t be calm within myself. I mean, who wants to hug a ticking time bomb? I wouldn’t.
And that’s not to be down on myself. I’m just acknowledging that any sort of emotional intimacy is sort of impossible when you’re afraid to say or do the wrong thing. And I’m always afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. The sad fact is that you can’t feel accepted if you’re always nervous because you’re constantly worried you’re being judged by others because you’re always judging yourself.
So I guess my job, having recognized that, is to learn how to stop walking on eggshells with myself…
I guess it’s time to get back to training self-compassion.