Me Time

My current struggle is defining "me" time. About 16m ago I set a goal to lose weight, and I have lost about 30lbs and maintained. I should lose another 20lbs (I want to, not just should). But in these 16 months I have walked at least 10k steps probably 90% (or more) of the time.

Going to work made it pretty easy, I would get up and walk around and use my lunch time to walk while listening to podcasts. At night I would go for walks by myself and they were therapeutic. Although sometimes getting out at night was hard because by the time the boys are in bed I am just too tired to so anything. Most nights I would push myself.

Then came April 2020 and working from home full time. At first I didn't do anything and couldn't get enough steps in, I didn't even try. Since June 2019 I hit monthly goals of 10k except for April, June and July 2020. (July was my worst month, I only averaged 7823 steps that month).

I feel guilty on days I don't get 10k steps, but should I? It's my own goal. Shouldn't I be flexible with myself? Some days I might be it make it because I don't feel well, others because I have too many other things to do. To us see, I have been walking back and forth in my living room during the day in order to get the steps in between working. Many times I then have to still go for an evening walk (it's been too hot to go out during the day) to get to the steps or I walk around by bedroom before laying down.

Along with doing some TikTok exercises it consumes my free time. Time I could be using to read (something I love doing but never find the time to do) or even scrolling TikTok while lounging on my Pandemic Hammock Purchase.

Even writing all this I find it hard to give up my 10k steps. I have been doing it for so so long how do I stop now? How do I even decrease that number? It makes me feel like a failure.

My SIL will watch my kids today in my home while I work. I super appreciate her doing this, but it will make it impossible for me to get steps since the house will be hers to use and I will essentially be hiding in the office so the kids don't see me and want to come to me. I know I should be graceful with myself on days like today - something beyond my control, but still I can't be.

We shall see....

I Explode

Originally 10/3/20:

I explode.

I want to blame my short temper on my dad's death lately, but I know it goes much deeper than that. It is just genetics, or the way I was raised. My mom has always been a fire cracker. I can see the things she does that are exaggerated. The behaviors I don't like.

Yet I can't stop myself. It's something that I did in with girlfriends in high school and things I do now as a 36 year old. Unfortunately I haven't learned the strategies to cope and to improve.

Sometimes I think I am doing better. Sometimes I feel like I have improved, but then I apparently spiral down again without realizing it until I am so far I to the anger hole that I grasp at straws to get out.

I have tried therapy for different reasons over the years, but they are icky marginally helpful.

I posted in a mommy's group earlier something that was sort of in a mess that I am surprised anyone replied to. But one of the replied really resonated and I hope I can use the strategy that she suggested to deal with the things I say and do. I will do it in conjunction with this journal and a blog. I may just write it in here and copy it into my blog.

I get angry at things that probably aren't worth getting angry at 99% of the time.

Today my 2 year old, Lucas, somehow climbed on top of his changing table and poured baby powder everywhere and was emptying out the wet wipes. I took it I good fun at first, and called everyone in to see, took pictures, etc. Then when I was cleaning up the diapers he threw all over the floor both boys began to shove them in the basket.

They were trying to help, but I yelled for then to stop because they weren't doing it the way I wanted it. Which is also a problem of mine, when things don't go my way, the planned ir expected way.... I have a hard time handling it.

The nice woman on the post suggested to write it all down to really try and find the root of my frustrations. Writing this about my boys and the diapers made me realize it was not about /them/ doing it wrong, but that I couldn't release control of how I wanted it to look. In retrospect I know that it was not worth yelling at my kid about and that they indeed were trying to be helpful (something I definitely should encourage them on).

Now, writing this down and acknowledging it doesn't mean I'm fixed it that I'll know how to deal with it next time, but it is a start and it may remind me to stop in the moment next time.

Writing has always been something I enjoyed and did well. But at some point, I don't know when, I started believing my writing sucked. I am not creative enough or concentrate enough to do it well and so I stopped. Being busy was a good excuse to not continue writing. But as I write this up on my phone... It feels nice.

Time really is an issue, though. I feel like I don't have time to exercise, read, write, be with the kids, cook, clean, etc. I prioritize and lately exercising indoors has won. Although, the last 3 weeks has created a monster of eating anything within me. I need to pull out of that. Monday, I hope.

Point being... I need to find more time somewhere to do have more "me" time. Time to read a book and time to go for a walk. I really enjoy walks on my own in which I can listen to a podcast. The last 2 months have been super hot so I haven't been motivates to do it, and usually by the time the boys are asleep I am too tired to do anything. I need Thomas' help in this.

If I can do these 2 things I think everything else will get better. I think I had a better attitude when I was at least getting walks in. Having 20 minutes (literally takes me 20-30 minutes to take the walks I need to get to my step goal) really kept me happy.

Then covid hit and life got turned upside down and while I lost weight and started exercising daily, my attitude deteriorated.

It's midnight. I need to sleep.

Memories...

From 9/26/20:

I always have memories but I don't write them down. I used to blog a lot and currently Jonathan is trying to put them all in a file so that maybe I can print them out.

But sometimes something happens and I need to write it down so I won't forget in the future.

Yesterday I was thinking about how my mom and dad got me out of the tub when I was little. I don't remember much of who gave me baths or if they stayed in the room with me. I imagine it was my mom, she was the homemaker and didn't work out of the home. But for one reason or another one or the other would take me out. My dad would get try take a towel and put it behind me and move it side to side, back and forth.

My mom? She would hit the towel against us... Think boys in a locker room. It was all in good fun. They must have made it a "thing", I am not sure.

I also need to use this space to keep memories of the boys. They do things and I say I need to remember them, but I forget to write them down.

A week ago or so Logan went to say goodnight to everyone in the house and told them "thank you for loving me!"

Another morning as I was leaving him at Nona's house and he called me back and I told him I loved him. His response was "Thank you! You made me happy!".

It's Been Hard

I am playing catch up. These are personal journal entries that I want to share. 

This was suggested to me by someone to take notes, release my inner thoughts. I don't know if I will like it since I have to type in my phone, but it is more convenient than my computer right now.

It has been a hard 10 days.

My dad died. Died. He is gone. I miss him. I miss him being 'there'. He had been getting worse physically and mentally the last few years. But I mourn for the memories. I mourn for the times when I was little that I wish I could relive. I wish I could jump back and be a little girl that would go swimming with him after watching the swimming parts of the summer olympics in 1992 (I was 7).

Those are precious memories. I can still feel myself jumping on my toes and running to get to the grass on the walk to the community pool. The ground too hot for my baby feet, while my dad claimed his calluses prevented his from burning. He would hang his towel over his shoulder. I can transport myself to that moment. As though I am watching a video, but there is no video and no pictures. Just what is in my mind.

My blond hair flowing behind me. At the pool he would put me on his shoulders in the water and walk from the shallow end to the deep end until he went under. It felt like he was walking down steps. I loved it. It's one of the only real memories I have if the pool, but it is such a vivid and good one.

Now... I forget he is gone and when I remember it is like running into a brick wall. The reality of it. So I try to forget.