Sore Makes Me Less Sorry For Myself

I had an old friend check in on me yesterday. Whenever life mentally beats me down, I kind of go hermit and hide from people. I start to refrain from checking in and just kind of try and keep afloat. We have become better in the last year of the every few months check in and as someone who I would consider one of my closest friends and someone I admire in life and motherhood, her check in came in right on time.

Having confessed to her last year my personal struggles with all things life and then finding out hers was similar and not all smiles and cute kids, she always asks about my big struggle. Yesterday I told her "I work out, A LOT, to burn off some of the stress."

I added an "LOL," to lighten the heaviness that might come with that commentary and realized this morning how happy I'd felt all week being so sore and sleeping so well, because I had kicked my butt physically. I think being sore made me feel less sorry for myself after my relapse of high anxiety and deep depression last weekend.

I think it's something that can be hard for people to grasp but because my mind is often like a hamster spinning on a wheel to nowhere, a focused workout or even a treadmill run takes all my mental energy and harnesses it for good, leaving me able to rest at ease later. I wish I could call it a vanity thing like I wanted to be "hot" and "slim" but that has almost nothing to do with it. I like to look healthy, which has a wide definition, different for everyone, but skinny is not my goal.

When I had my first realization of how deep my depression and anxiety where I was about 22 or 23. I had lost both of my grandparents within a year and my mom had a cancer scare with a large tumor removed. I had been through a lot with personal relationships and was mid-college trying to figure out this thing called life. In my therapy they emphasized the importance of routine, physical activity and structure. 

I would say I religiously follow that rule about my personal struggle with depression and anxiety that physical activity is tantamount to my mental recovery. I always feel badly when I don't work out and the sore is better than the sorry for myself. I always catch myself being at my worst when and if I'm not moving around enough.

Working out has always been my therapy, especially when we couldn't afford someone for me to talk to. When I work out it's usually just myself and my music. Music is therapy part two. There is nothing I can't do, and no mental anguish if I have the perfect play list, even if that play list is all depressing stuff.

I rest better at night, both physically and mentally, when I know I have physically exhausted myself. This can sound kind of masochistic but I actually just love that sense of accomplishment. I know plenty of people who live on protein shakes and hardcore diets and serious fitness goals and I'm happy that works for them, but I like knowing I can indulge in ice cream guilt free because I kicked my ass throughout the day.

When I feel sore, not only am I far less sorry for myself in general, but I know I did something right to keep feeling that work out as the day goes on. Yesterday I was laughing out loud at how much it hurt from soreness to run and to do other exercises because I had given myself consistently great workouts throughout the week. 

This morning I realized how imperative my workouts are for everything. I recently started taking my daughter to the gym with me. Not only is she old enough to actually take in what I'm doing, but she can sit and chill while I get my workout in, and if it's slow enough, join me a bit. Now my mom gave me a huge complex about my body, which I am fighting tooth and nail to NOT to do my daughter at all. I always tell her she's fantastic. "Fat" is like a swear word in our house. I want her to understand health and happiness, so I try to lead by example.

Some people may view my twice daily workouts five days a week as excessive or obsessive. But one could also say the same for Keto-dieters, taking all kinds of supplements or meal-planning, weight watchers and so on and so forth. To each their own. For me it is 90% mental health practices and 10% fitness related.

Also, I like working out. It is something I actually enjoy. I don't "enjoy" running but I'll do it sometimes. I do my best to make anything that makes me sore, at least less of a chore than other things. We all have workouts we like, and workouts we don't. I try and keep a decent mix.

For me working out is part of health care. It's preventative and part of a healthy lifestyle. Look I eat cookies, and cake, and many "unhealthy" things but all in moderation. So working out is meant to bring me some balance, both physically and mentally. It's what I strive for.

I think it would be easy to see my posts and say I'm a work-out-aholic. It could be easy to exchange one form of obsession or compulsion for another, but I think the work out obsession may be safer than a binge-eating situation. Some of the most functional people I know have a good workout routine and decent eating habits, even if they have a cheat day from time to time.

After my recent mental mis-step I'm just taking pride in the fact that I'm very aware of what to do to get myself back on my feet, so to speak. I know what my mind and body need and I'm not afraid or ashamed to share that. I love that being sore keeps away the "sorrys." I don't need to throw myself a pity party because we all have our mental woes. I need to continue to heal, and continue to grow. My fitness regimes feed that growth and healing and keep those endorphins flowing freely!

Also, Elle Woods is my girl so, I kinda like to follow her life model. Happy Friday!