I heard this song during an incredibly low moment this week when I was driving (and then crying) and it just seemed so perfectly timed that I knew it was not an accident. I happen to love The Weeknd (and I don’t care what people think about his Superbowl performance -I enjoyed it!). If you haven’t heard it yet, check out Save Your Tears.
I’ve blogged a lot in my lifetime – and most of it has been about weight loss. As I reflect on the various forms that my writing has taken, I also think about how obsessed I’ve become over the years with numbers.
Numbers on the scale.
Numbers of calories.
Numbers of points.
Numbers of macros.
Numbers on a tape measure.
Numbers of days until I must meet an arbitrary goal I set…
I can be a little obsessive. Part of it comes with my profession – as a project manager I’m fixated on tasks and deadlines and metrics to ensure success. That’s literally what makes me sought after. Unfortunately when applied to my personal life it can make me crazy.
When the Pandemic first hit I started taking fitness classes from a local studio that offered workouts on Zoom. I loved them and felt like the Pandemic would be my time to focus on myself – finally! I could get back on the wagon and conquer the next goal in my list (199!). For a few months things went along swimmingly – I worked out 4-5x a week, I made healthy meals, I drank my water. Then, my mom got sick and everything else took a back burner to her.
I don’t regret making her a priority – not at all. In fact as I look back at the 7 months from when she got sick to when she passed I don’t regret a single decision I made when it came to her care or making sure she knew how loved she was; she knew she meant the world to me. That said… I do regret that I let myself stop exercising, stop making smart food choices and stop working towards those goals I had planned for myself.
I set myself back and now I’m paying the price – a familiar song I’ve sung more than once in the past. I’m 39 pounds above my lowest weight in the last 5 years (the irony of turning 39 is not lost on me) . I’m constantly tired and I cannot believe how much strength I’ve lost. Now part of that exhaustion is grief but a bigger part of it is bad decisions adding up. I tried to reinvest in the numbers game and I just can’t. I can’t become obsessed with calories or metrics. I need to find another way through this mess I’ve made and back to feeling great again.
I had committed to working out with a wonderful family friend that helps both my dad and Derek. Wednesday 7am was when we were supposed to meet…and at 6:50am where was I? In my bed crying. Why was I crying? I have no fucking idea. Okay, if I’m honest it was the stark realization that I’m basically starting over with these workouts. I haven’t heavy lifted in….18 months. I haven’t consistently exercised since August. Once again I’m starting over and yes I’m starting with experience but trust me when I said this, it doesn’t make it any easier.
So 7am comes, Michael is texting making I’m sure I’m not in a ditch and I’m still a mess. Finally I decided my mom would be so annoyed with me for self-sabotaging. She would want me to stop freaking crying and commit to my goal. I got up, threw clothes on and in the car I heard “Save Your Tears”…which ironically made me cry again! 😂
The session was amazing – I actually surprised myself that I was able to push decent weight (squatting 2 plates, leg pressing 4 plates). I’m not where I once was – but I’m also not going to keep beating myself up about it. I’ll save my tears for another day.