The title says it all and it reads like the saddest dating tag on match.com that you have ever seen.
I just feel like letting it all hang out. In the writing sense. Does that exist in this world anymore? A place where one can shout as loud as they want without worry of judgement?
Why listless with lupus? I have a theory that it’s that smack-dab in the middle of summer blues that is getting to me. My zest for life that started this blog was recently traded in for a brand new model: fear. I swing between thrilled about living and listless. What if I can’t?
So, I realized I needed to get an effin grip and grow the eff up. That’s why I’m not using curses, I’m a grown up now, people!
That being said, I was determined to get back into a healthier lifestyle, one in which I was conscientious about taking my medicine, going to doctors appointments, and listening to my body. Because I am an adult. I repeat, I am an adult.
And that’s where I found myself at a crossroads: a thirty day Bikram yoga challenge!
Q: But what happened to running?
A: Quite frankly bored with running. Here we go again, one leg goes in front of the other leg at a faster pace than when I was walking. I’m not saying I am done with running, we are just taking a break.
Back to the new fad I’m seeing: Bikram. 105 degree room, 26 poses, and sweating from places you didn’t know could sweat. I kid you not, you can watch beads of sweat forming. Bring a towel, you will need one.
It will be a good idea they said, try it they said. I love a good competition- against myself, friends, enemies, my dog, I don’t care. If you give me a challenge and I accept it, game on.
Q: How is this challenge going?
Day 1: Walk in to the studio and I learn they have shorter classes than they used to. Instead of 90 minutes of hell, you can go for 60! Wonderful! To be honest the 60 minutes was exactly what I needed and while I didn’t complete every posture, I walked out feeling confident in the next day.
Day 2: Go big or go home. 90 minutes it is, I want the experience (I tell myself.) I don’t necessarily regret the experience, but I accept that 60 minutes is completely acceptable. I even decide if those are the only classes I am able to attend I can’t beat myself up over it.
Day 3: Before I leave for class I have John take my picture because you best believe I have every intention in monitoring my progress. I refuse to weigh myself, but damn straight I want to see those love handles melt away and six-pack abs replace my “she is an adorable pregnant girl” belly.
Day 4: I got this
Day 5: I got this
Day 6: I got this so much I am going to take a picture and send it to my mom! I am actually at a point where I have filled out an entire first line on the challenge card. Only four to go. I try convincing myself that’s the wrong way to look at things but the Debbie Downer in me wants no part in any of my excitement. Additionally, as I’m walking in to this 60 minute class a girl goes, “I usually only do the 90 minutes…but…” and I feel like a failure. The class goes well, but I bolt out of the door because I have a wedding to be at in one hour.
Day 7: I got this.
Day 8: I cannot explain enough that this was the worst class. At the end of class my friend told me she got through class by imagining ways to make me laugh. The first thing she said to me was actually, “so wasn’t that the best class yet?” We cannot pinpoint why it was such a bad class, but it was.
Day 9: I’m enjoying class and then I feel this pinch. I spend the rest of the night into today hobbling around like a little old lady with sciatica, which I’m pretty sure is exactly what I am right now.
Day 10: Here I am. Drinking water and debating my next move. Do I give up? Do I push myself? Is this lupus or sciatica? Am I just crazy (side note: yes, but it’s unrelated) Can I just lay on the mat for 90 minutes? More to come my friends. More. To. Come.
Listless with Lupus