Slug In Bed

I have been sleeping terribly recently. Worse than usual. I wasn’t able to sleep without my girlfriend, and it appears that this fact remains, yet now with no end in sight.

It now nears 11am on a Thursday and I remain in bed, hoping that I’ll get more than a few hours’ sleep, but dreading that at some point I’ll have to give up and then face the day exhausted and mentally spent.

I have very good friends, but they are concentrated in two regions of the country, neither one of those here.

Before my 4.5-year-log relationship, I was in a ten-year-long marriage and relationship. I’ve never been good at dating or even making new friends. Research tells me that even having one “gym buddy” would be really useful and good, but I have nowhere to go to meet people, and have no idea what I can offer someone to want to be my friend.

At this point, I am left hoping for things to quickly resolve, but have no pathway there. I would hope to make at least an acquaintance or two, but no luck there. It all looks particularly bleak and totally beyond the realm of being assisted by fish oil.

Things are grim, and I see no way through. Little five-minute sessions that should be simple are monstrously difficult and leave me gasping. I am shocked and ashamed at how easily I tire and how little work I can actually accomplish. Things are bleak.

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The Slug is Crushed

Today, my girlfriend–ex-girlfriend, I suppose–came by to pick up her things. I had held out hope that, as long as she had things here, she was entertaining perhaps coming back and giving herself a possible way out, but these hopes are dashed. I thought the longer that she left her things here, the more she would consider coming back, but this comes after her moving out Saturday, so she’s done here.

She took the slow-cooker pot (a really nice one) and, as most of the cookware was hers, that as well.

It is demoralizing to think that our relationship of 4.5 years may not weather this storm and that she has decided to move on after such a short time. My plans for today include sleeping as much as possible and drinking water. I just don’t feel up to working out. Or eating. Or being conscious.

I could forgive her still, and we could move on together still, but it looks like she’ll be moving down this road for at least a six-month span. Every month that passes is another month I will have to reflect on what happened, and to reflect on the fact that this behavior would eat away at our future life together, as I’d never know if she would do this again. I don’t want to dislike her, and I don’t dislike her, but I am thoroughly disappointed in her. She put her own desires ahead of our relationship and ahead of the fact that she knew I would be immeasurably hurt, and proceeded. And then told me she would proceed that way again and again and again as she liked, because it felt good.

I feel crushed.

Probably no work-out today. There are lots of hours left, but I just don’t see it happening.

In the Beginning…

Starting out

Starting out

I write this the day after Valentine’s Day.

This is also the day after my long-time girlfriend (mentioned here) has left me to live and be with another person. I am bitterly disappointed, but forced too to look at my life and desires and take immediate action.

One of the last plans we had made together was to start a fitness blog and track our progress together as a couple. One of the last things we did as a couple was to watch a night of UFC fighting, as a co-worker of hers was fighting and she was invited by this person she went to be with. That was a week ago.

I have a problem that some of you reading may have. I look at how things will be different after a set of conditions are met, or when a set of conditions are met. This blog post has a very good description of doing this, framed as circling and waiting until you lose weight to do the things you want.

I am using the momentum of hurt and upset to re-visit my past self, lost to academia and frittered away by stress and poverty for years, and start living daily and weekly rather than exclusively living and planning for the future. I would starve to death today to keep food for tomorrow; my girlfriend would eat today and worry about tomorrow, and I think the second is the more livable scenario. Watching the UFC bouts ignited and stirred something in me that has brewed over the past month or two. It hinted and whispered and finally screamed: I like martial arts, and I miss doing martial arts. Before Saturday, I had no insight into this, aside from occasional wistful thoughts about dedicating practice to a martial art again … someday, when I was in better shape.

I have waited to be in better shape before seriously training; I used to wrestle, and do not feel like I’ve accomplished anything in the gym unless I go for three hours at a time and come home barely able to walk. That was effective, but I am no longer sixteen and living with my parents. Life is different and I am different.

I was very disciplined, having grown up playing sports and practicing martial arts (Western-style Kung Fu) and wrestling in high school, but this discipline and resolve have, over the years, turned to a kind of miserly withholding and punishment for myself–“no, you don’t deserve a cookie. You don’t even deserve to eat. You should just not eat for a few days, fatty!” is a fair example of some of the thinking and actions that occur. I want to save money for the future, so I don’t take care of myself now. I want to someday buy and eat high-quality food, so I eat processed garbage now. I want to be in better shape someday, so I plan and scheme now. There is a pattern of behavior here, and it is punitive and not disciplined.

Now, I am fat. I am old. I am very nearly out of hope. I feel like a slug, a shadow of my former self. These feelings might resonate with some of you reading, or you may know someone like this. It is my hope that as this journey unfolds, my touches every day will start to take hold and build hope and resolve in both myself and for anyone who needs it. I am trying to move from punishment to discipline to compassionate discipline insofar as how I view and treat myself, and how I handle food and fitness. I’m a painfully private person, but I will try to post pictures as I go. It’s what my girlfriend and I had planned for our shared blog, and still seems the most genuine and helpful way to approach this.

It is Sunday, which is a great day to say, “I’ll start this with the opening of the work week, Monday, tomorrow.” I will try to push against this compulsion and at least move around a bit today and bring blood-flow into my body’s systems.