Showing posts with label living dangerously. Show all posts
Showing posts with label living dangerously. Show all posts

There'll Be Some Changes Made - Revisited

For there's a change in the weather,
There's a change in the sea
From now on, there'll be a change in me
My walk will be diff'rent, my talk and my name
Nothin' about me's gonna be the same
I'm gonna change my way of livin'- and, if that ain't enough-
I'm gonna change the way I strut my stuff
'Cause nobody wants you when you're old and gray
There'll be some changes made today
There'll be some changes made

- Benny Goodman, et.al., There'll Be Some Changes Made


I had crafted this marvelously expressive blog entry earlier today and lost it somehow, so you'll have to excuse the rough condition of these thoughts and believe that the original was far more eloquent and meaningful.

When I originally posted the entry below, I was in a really bad place. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, everything was much, much worse than I was willing to admit. I felt like I was living four separate lives: that of a professional, adult student, dealing with contracts and clients and deadlines and research and brokers and lawyers; that of a young, single woman, filling her calendar to the brim with dates and parties and social engagements, mostly with Sherpa; that of a newbie triathlete, desperate to jockey more training time, especially since training was the only thing in my life that made me feel healthy and vibrant; and that of a frustrated and misunderstood invalid, juggling medicines and doctor's appointments and tests and mysterious illnesses.


As if in answer to the whining I continuously did about all of the above, things got worse. Whatever relationship that was left with Wubsy exploded, my new job seemed likely to dissappear just as quickly as its predecessor, my health got worse and I gained 15 pounds between trying not to vomit every day and not being able to afford healthy food.


And then things got even worse.


Money got tighter, things got tough with Sherpa (aka exbo), and I got pregnant. I gained 10 more pounds and made even more trips to the hospital. When, I would think, does it ever end? Believe it or not, I began to pray for the days when all I worried about was how feeling ill made me miss my training. I wondered how on earth I ever felt guilty for missing a couple of workouts when it became impossible to afford a coach, a club, and then even a gym membership. And I lived with some serious denial. I would tel myself, Everything will work out fine. I'm not all that bad off. I'm really doing okay.. But some of the more perceptive people could tell the difference between my usual biting sarcasm and plain old negativity, no matter how much I pretended I "believed."

Now, in the midst of things being so much worse and - some would speculate - as bad as they could possibly get, I'm starting to feel as though they've never been better.


While I would never, ever, ever wish for those days to return, and while there is plenty of turmoil ahead (of that, I can be sure), I am suddenly unafraid. Almost everything I could have encountered has already happened, so any scenario I imagine seems not only manageable but downright yawn-inducing. And, perhaps more importantly, I am unquestionably certain that I could not have rediscovered my wit, confidence and self-efficacy had I not been through everything I've gone through and am going through. I no longer have room for self-flagellation or guilt; my schedule, focus and finances grew so incredibly unforgiving that there is no longer any margin for insecurity.

Another strange thing has happened: I don't seem to need my medicine any more. Perhaps I'm being overly optimistic or speaking too soon, but being forced to function without it for over two months seems to have seriously reduced, if not erased, my dependence.

The "me" I was becoming when I wrote this entry has finally made her way through the mess that was/is my life. And suddenly it's not a mess any more - it's just...my life. The person I see now in the (figurative and literal) mirror is stronger, smarter, more beautiful and amazing than I ever imagined she could be. There is absolutely no way I could feel that without having seen and done what I've seen and done.

I really did sack up. I really have learned how to live dangerously. It was never the way I planned, but it's turning out better than I ever dreamed. All because I decided to take another piece of my dad's advice and "let the chips fall where they may."

So, if I want to avoid ever again treading the path I've taken to get here, and if I want this me to stick around, for good, there'll definitely be some changes made.


__________________________________________________________________
The theme of the weekend is A Fresh Start. After all, why not spring ahead in spring, right?

I woke up this morning without an upset stomach for the first time in weeks. This only happened because I slept 14 hours last night. That sounds like a lot, but if you add up the sleep deficit I've accumulated since I filed for divorce on December 18, 2007, I would need to sleep that long on most days of the week for the next two months just to catch up. (This is, of course, assuming that one could make deposits into the Bank of Sleep. I know it's been proven that lost sleep is effectively lost forever.)

The past few months left me physically and emotionally depleted. My only escape was training. The problem was, I was living with nothing, in a bad part of town, spending all my time trying to get back and forth to the Y, bike trails, my old house and work after my ex-husband kicked me out, which left me no time or energy. (By the way, the Y and the bike trails are in cycling distance now!!) Needless to say, I was continually ill in every sense of the word, but I kept training as hard as I could and began to see amazing improvements, even if it made me sicker. (How much more amazing they can be is soon to be seen. )

But by now, you're surely asking yourself, "How early did she have to go to bed last night to get 14 hours of sleep on the morning of a race?!!!!" And, no, the answer is not,"Well, it was a 9am start." The answer is, "She didn't race." But don't think because I've had a rough few months and I missed a race that I'm down in the dumps. My directions for the race today said "no excuses, no regrets." And I have neither.

WHAT??!?!? The queen of woe is me has no regrets?!?!?!!?

You bet your booties, granny. This ain't a swan song.

Change is scary - I'm not saying it isn't. Especially when it happens all at once: new job, new house, new side of town, new (short) hair, new attitude, new (larger) clothing size (BLECH!). But I've decided that I'm not going to let it stop me. The me of 2 years ago would have - she would refuse to go out with short hair, wearing "fat clothes." She'd curl up in the fetal position because she was scared of all the commitments she'd made (house, training, singlehood). And she'd bitch herself out for missing her race on a weekend when she needed sleep - because, she'd reason, only wusses would be scared to move all day, drive 2 hours to a race, get up and race all morning, then drive home and move some more, hoping they weren't too sick to make it to work the next day. Especially when the only other thing they have going on is a new job, the purchase of their first home, moving, the flu, and a divorce.

But that was the old me.

A talk with my friend John this weekend made me realize that I obsess too much. And you know what? He's right. And Rob's right (both of them sadly). And Nate's right. And so is
IM Able, and everyone else who has told me for the past few months to 1)simplify my life and 2)cut myself some slack. So, from now on, I'm going to follow the time-tested laws of KISS (keep it simple, stupid) and To Thine Own Self Be True. That doesn't mean I'm slacking, just that I'm preserving my authenticity. I don't have to answer to anyone but me. God knows know one else is going to be staring back at me when I look in the mirror. (At least not as long as I'm sober.) So I'm not going to worry if someone else doesn't like it.

That seems awfully impossible and scary. But, after all, this was supposed to be the year of living dangerously.

Besides . . . better to miss a practice race than FL HIM!

Remember What I Said Yesterday?

Today's horrorscope:

"You'd better make some more room in your life for new ideas and new people -- because they are going to be coming at you very fast, very soon. So get cleaning, and toss out those old feelings, old ideas and outdated philosophies whose time has come and gone. Update your attitude and get with it -- things have changed in your life, and they are only going to continue. If you keep thinking the same way you thought ten years ago, you'll miss out on some major opportunities. "

Indeed!

Consistency in Times of Chaos

I know what you're thinking by now.

Where is this crazy b*$&h?
I haven't seen her in weeks.

Months, maybe.
What the hell is her deal?

Is she still blogging?

Is she still working?

Is she still training?

Is she even breathing?


******************************************************

The answer to every single one of the questions above (with the exception of the first) is, absolutely, undoubtedly, resoundingly:

YES.

I am still here. Living, breathing, working, blogging - yes, even training. I am trying to do EXACTLY what the Elf tells me.
As always, I'm struggling.


******************************************************
The truth is, I've been doing a lot of sacking up and living dangerously the past few months, and it hasn't turned out quite as planned, or expected, or even dreamed. When I initially blogged about growing the proverbial pair and learning to take the proverbial bull by the horns in my life, I truly had no idea what I was in for. I should have known that my newly discovered vim, vigor and spunk could lead me down a treacherously twisting, daringly dramatic and somewhat scary path when the entry in question frightened even the Great Gutsy Tea-inator. But, in true Meggan Ann fashion, I threw caution to the wind, nonchalantly dismissed concerns, and surged boldly forward.
The result?

It's going to sound like a made-for-TV movie, and you're probably not even going to buy it all, but here goes. Since I made that initial entry on December 2 (a little over two months ago), I have:
  • Started dating again and acquired a boyfriend
  • Had the cops called on New Beau by my ex-husband
  • Got kicked out of my house by my ex-husband and his mother
  • Kept trying to train
  • Moved into a very shitty, cheap extended-stay hotel in a bad part of town
  • Spent what seemed like aeons with negative bank statements because of the displacement
  • Kept trying to train
  • Had ex-husband refuse to help with the overdraft charges
  • Had to drop out of class because of the stress
  • Gained at least 15 pounds back because I could only eat the cheapest, shittiest food possible for months (goodbye, Whole Foods - hello, Mickey D's . . . *barf* )
  • Kept training
  • Had a bladder infection and 3 different GI issues (not to give you TMI, but I've spent the better part of 2008 with diarrhea. I'm calling stress on that one.)
  • Lost my job
  • Finalized my divorce - but was late on the way to the hearing because it took me nearly two hours to get through traffic because not only did two different fender-benders happen right in front of me, Orlando had a tragic pedestrain accident on I-4
  • Kept training
  • Drank too much
  • Begun closing proceedings on my townhouse
  • Had to re-do my first base week twice
  • Had to re-do my first test week twice
  • Had my closing postponed 3 times
  • Got a new job
  • Kept training
  • Learned I suck at heart rate monitors
  • Wrenched my knee falling in a pair of fuck-me pumps
  • Broke up with new boyfriend
  • Accepted my ex-husband's offer to move back in so I could keep my bank accounts positive
  • Now have piles of laundry to do to remove the stench of old-hotel, ex-smoker-dwelling from my clothing
  • Kept training
Jesus help us. God and Baby Jesus help us.

I swear, though, that it's all completely unfalsified. (Is that even a word? Who cares. You should know by now that Megganese is not necessarily English anyway.)

So, that's the scoop on the poop. Yesterday's workout was a swim, but I find myself frequently swapping Mondays for Fridays as my off days because I had to move out of the craphole apartment (could not afford it any longer.) Through all of the madness, I've kept training. Now that I'm back in a clean, free place and I am getting settled in a new job, I am looking forward to being able to follow my training schedule to the letter.

Tonight's mission, should I choose to accept it? Run, unpack and do laundry.

This blog will self-destruct in 5 seconds.
By the way . . . my ass hurts from getting back into aero.

Sack Up.

Today I decided something important. Yeah, yeah, yeah - by now you're used to me deciding important things on a monthly (even daily) basis. But that doesn't diminish their importance. The truth is, I have a lot of important decisions to make.

Well, I'm not going to be afraid to make them any longer. This is the year that I finally sack up.

Yeah, I know, that's a physical/anatomical impossibility. So, for the purposes of this purposelessness, think of it theoretically. I am going to get ballsy for once in my life. Or, better yet, for life. I'm going to do everything I ever wanted to do,be everyone I wanted to be, but was too scared or intimidated or uneducated or daunted or lazy to try. And we're not just talking about doing a half Ironman and applying to doctoral programs.

Oh, no.

This includes but is not limited to: skydiving, sailing, deep sea fishing, traveling or even moving halfway across the world - alone, if need be -keeping my mouth shut when I am tempted to speak, being more decisive, speaking up for myself when I am tempted to let people bully me, going to more sporting events, going to more concerts, staying up later, training harder, volunteering more, getting up earlier, doing nothing more often, and not being so g'd nice all the f*%$ time. I'm going to ask for what I need, and I'm going to get it, dammit. I'm going to live dangerously every day. (Well . . . maybe I draw the line at attempting human Frogger on I-4.)

The sack-up has officially begun.

It's never to late to be the person you've always wanted to be. What have you done today to live dangerously?