Exposing Myself to Myself.
Monday, May 31, 2010 at 10:05PM For far too long, exercise has been a huge anxiety trigger for me. A racing heart rate has been such a harbinger of intense feelings of foreboding, so increasing my blood flow on purpose was a little too far left of logical for my illogical brain.
My conscious mind has always known the paradox. I always knew that if I could just get past the fear that my mind, body and soul would benefit from a good sweaty workout.
Beginning in December, I started a total body fitness class. One day a week. I started a snails pace. There was something comforting about being in a class. I felt safe. As if the 'anything bad' that plays like a broken record in my head, actually happened, I'd have help and wouldn't be alone. I got through my first class and my second and third and onward through the whole session.
My body got stronger. My mind grew quieter. My bravery grew.
Since starting that class and not dying... I signed up for another session, a session of kickboxing, I've taken a Zoomba class, I've been working out at home and I've even joined an 8 week outdoor boot camp! I'm exercising at least 4 times a week and I'm really giving it all I have each time. I've decided to not obsess over my heart rate. I've even thrown out my heart rate monitor. Really, those things are counter intuitive for someone like me - I end up focusing on the number rather than the exercise.
So. Looks like I'm on the fitness track again. I've lost 27 lbs! Who knew negative thoughts weighed so much?
I'm still a bit weirded out at boot camp though. I think it's because it's remote and I don't feel the same security on the beach that I do in the school gym. I need to have my husband drive me and pick me up. That alone makes me feel awful.
So this week... wearing my new inspiration, I finally decided to take myself to boot camp. It's only about 20 km from my house, but the drive there contains a stretch of road with nothing but trees and rocks. No way to turn around. No houses. No help. This trip would be a solo venture in exposure therapy. I was terrified.
I cried the whole way.
Approaching the dreaded stretch, I considered stopping for a minute, but didn't incase I lost my resolve.
I had a car behind me the whole way and that gave me some comfort.
Turning off that road and into the home stretch for boot camp was a relief, dizzyingly scary and liberating all at once. With tears streaming down my face, I screamed... "Fuck you, I win! I'm not afraid anymore!"... I yelled it as loud as I could letting my voice fly out of the open windows, not really caring if anyone heard me, but hoping with all my might that the universe and my stubborn mind did. And even though I'm not sure how true the statement was, it certainly felt better than whimpering "I can't".
I made it to boot camp. I survived the class and I made it home. And I will do it all again next Sunday.
After all... This is the payoff:
Reader Comments (4)
Wow you inspired me! I have severe panic and anxiety attacks and exercise has also been a huge issue for me. Way to go I may just have to find me a good class myself.
HURRAY, Karen! HURRAY!
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