Endorphins- those tricky bastards

There's an athlete under here. It's neat to see her again. I'm starting to understand why my crazy flailing attempts to hit balls that are out of reach often succeed. It's interesting to find myself stopping short when I want to say "Oh, I can't do that" and instead think, Can I figure out how to do that? My coach was super excited today about what I picked up. There are some days where you can't miss, and this wasn't one of those, but with his individual focus and immediate corrections, I was able to incorporate his instructions a lot better. He'd teach, I'd hit, he'd call out corrections, and then I could hit the same shot over and over. He'd stop to celebrate and make me acknowledge it. He said he taught six lessons today, and mine... then he just shook his head and said I did awesome.

Tomorrow I'll go to the drill with another coach, and he's good for different reasons. They have different ways of explaining it, and my Tuesday coach has these funny reminders, like "Stand your ground! Don't you let that 1 ounce ball intimidate you!" or calling somebody a dolphin because they ran up too far and got caught in the net.

In a year, I've worn through my shoes. That's not impressive for a pro, but it is for me, taking classes and practicing just a few hours a week. As my Tuesday coach said when commending my decision to favor my knee instead racing for a really short ball, "I know you wanted to go for it. Thats not something you can teach people."

Someone said to me recently that they feel this point happens when people start something new, especially some kind of exercise. Things are fun and great for a while, then your body starts protesting. My right side is, in the words of my massage therapist, "jacked up," but she informed me that the orthotics and plantar fasciitis stretches are working, as my feet no longer feel like bricks. I am feeling better. I hurt, but I feel like I'm just challenging the way my body has adapted to move, and I'm working on getting it in the direction of how it's supposed to move. I'm still carrying weight, and I think I still look the same, but I am suddenly feeling a lot less apologetic about my body. I'm gonna go ahead and be a giraffe now and trust that I can both reach the tall branches and outrun the lions.

Working on it

I must remind myself that it’s been less than a year since I’ve been on the pump, and this will ALWAYS be a process. The endocrinologist changed my basal rates, and I have been crashing left and right ever since. What I need to do is upload my data and send him the results. He’ll see it and give me new rates to plug in. I’ve got to calm down and pay attention enough to find a pattern, which coincidentally works with what I’m doing in another area. I’m tracking my total carbs, and circling which carbs are for covering lows. That ought to give me a pretty clear picture.

 

This has turned into a stay the hell home and rest week. I canceled tennis on Monday and Tuesday to rest my right side, and on Wednesday I came home to my AC blowing hot air and the smoke detector chirping its low battery warning. It was 87 degrees in there, and Jackson and Riley were panting. I called maintenance and opened up all the windows. Thankfully, the wind was picking up, moving some air through the apartment for the cat, but I took the dogs outside and we sat in the breezy shade until they stopped panting. I replaced the battery to the relief of all the animals. The maintenance guy came and fixed the AC and gave me a very gentle reminder to change out the air filter a little more often. By the time all that was done, I would have been an hour late to my mindfulness class, so I stayed home and took a nap. Last night, Ant and Kirsten were supposed to come for dinner, but Ant has a new job at a Subway, and is working a new schedule.

 

Tonight I’m doing a review with my class, then meeting a friend to proofread some work for her graduate level classes. I’m also supposed to help edit the final draft for a med school applicant. This weekend is filling up fast, and I intend to have fun and get stuff done, but also get some more damn rest.

The lights come on at 10:30

All I really want to do right now is write and process all these wonderful things I was just discussing with Dad, but why is it always time to get ready for bed?

Jackson is here- the impish wonder that is Amanda and Natalia's dog, and Riley has gotten used to him. Solo is busy hiding. Yesterday I spent all day rearranging furniture- sometimes the same piece 10 or 12 times because I can't picture what it looks like or if it will work until I see it. Thank god for those little plastic slider discs with the foam on one side- I was sliding furniture all over the place. I was too sore to sleep last night.

I like it better now- or for now, anyway. I think it will work better for my purposes, and Mini got a new cat shelf situation that she LOVES without costing me any more money or holes in the wall. When I did my lease renewal, I found out my security deposit was only $200. Hahahahaha.

I have to edit a paper before I can go to bed, and I am hoping to sleep tonight, but I wanted to put something down because I am busy accomplishing shit over here, and I want to document that. My wonderfully vague yet relevant horoscope says I am to balance valid greed and obligatory sharing, and I think those terms are timely, interesting, and laughably Jenny.

I am feeling stress, and I am trying to translate it to good things. I do feel good things around me, but I want this time- the time I need to write and think and produce. I am learning how to use my strengths to my advantage, and those things are neat- when I hit on one, it's like being catapulted ahead. I'm also learning to stop berating myself, when there are so many other people who can do that for me.

Thanks for the talk, Dad.

Hanging out to dry

Apartment living is usually fine, but sometimes poopy. Today it's annoying because there are 11 people and one washer and dryer, and everybody in the free world has to work the same stupid schedule. I am also frustrated because the price on that stupid washer and dryer just went up AGAIN and I suspect somebody here smokes inside their apartment because this year when I turn on my AC, it smells like cigarettes in here. Big heaving sigh...

All the more reason to keep making hefty progress on the stupid debt. I'm on track and it's funny- I keep thinking I can't make these hefty extra payments because what if something happens... but then I point out to myself that part of my goal is to have the credit card available for such emergencies and I do have money in savings. It's just a foreign idea to me to have access to those things, because I have lived so long without them. For the past few years, I was just too close to the bone, and before that, well... you know.

I'm very proud of myself for getting to this point. It is a slow process, to be sure. I expect to actually be able to move next year, and my plan has a lot more shape and seems very realistic now. Getting tired of apartment living is part of the process, and I've been pretty patient. I do love a lot about this place, and it is still my cozy home, but I am looking forward to taking my next step.

Struggling to Thursday

Being really busy is good for lots of reasons, but this definitely feels like too much. The class I'm teaching will be over in late June, and the mindfulness class I just signed up for will be about halfway through by then, so I bet I'll feel all righteously mindful and not even realize that the other class has anything to do with that. We JUST finished the math portion, and what an unholy mess that has been. Almost every day I've been meeting with one or two of the students to tutor them through fractions and percent conversions. I am worn out and overwhelmed. I worry that I didn't teach it well enough or something, but I followed their damn lesson plan. They have been absorbing things well, it's just harder than hell to move through math quickly. And who would want to? A lot of them are trying to prepare for tests to get into college or nursing school. I've also been helping them on resumes and cover letters. It is a LOT, but today they told me that a lot of their coworkers want to take the class. Then they said if I'm not able to teach it next year, they'd tell them not to bother. Of course it will be helpful no matter who's teaching, but that made my heart very happy.

In addition to running back and forth to the main facility for that, I have also had several appointments and more to come. The good news is that my A1C has dropped a full point over the last year- much better than a sudden drop- and I am 0.3 points away from where my endocrinologist wants me to be. He had a lot of insights for me, especially about tennis. He gave me a temporary rate to program before I go play, and last night I was able to play for an hour and a half without needing any food. It doesn't help to burn 700 calories if you have to take in 500. He said I'm having so much trouble because I'm having to eat to my insulin, and the only way to fix that is with slight adjustments. I'm so close now that it's REALLY easy to crash, and tennis is a very hard thing to manage. I'm gearing up to play 3 times a week, and I just learned that I have tendinitis in my foot. And shin splints. And plantar fasciitis, but I knew that. And as you can imagine, the podiatrist's only goddamn solution ever is ugly, boxy, solid white or solid black shoes. Or huge, tall orthotics that fit in nothing but my FUggs. Le sigh.

Friday, I went to get gas and the gas cap door wouldn't open- the catch gets stuck. I had to get someone else to grab the door whole I pulled the lever. Then my card was declined, so I paid with the credit card and went to check my account on my phone. They had just changed the website and I couldn't remember my new password, so I went to the branch, where I found out some dickhead got a hold of my debit card number- not my card, mind you- and wiped my account clean in $50 increments at four different Walmarts in Georgia. Apparently they can put the card info on a blank card and spend away in a store. The credit union filed a dispute and credited me my money, but now I have to go figure out what I have to change. And fix my gas cap door, lest I want refueling to continue to be a collaborative effort.

Today I had a library presentation to do before teaching class, then I met a student for tutoring, worked a couple more hours, then played an hour and a half of tennis. I crashed SIX TIMES today, I have had no time to edit for the medical website, and I am exhausted. Riley's vision is getting really bad, and I am behind on everything. I do feel better after putting all this down though, as I knew I would- even if it takes time. I feel like work is in the way of the rest of my life, which probably means I need to explore some options. Tomorrow is an emotional intelligence class, and just in time, I think... as I recognize that I am overdue for a sad movie and a good cry. Sheesh.

I canceled my plans for tomorrow night, and am going to walk Riley when it's still light, do some editing, then finish my puzzle and my audiobook, then watch Project Runway episodes until it's time to go to bed.

Too much, too much, but I'm clean, off my feet, and in clean sheets. Tomorrow I'm going to wear the comfiest shoes I have, try to remember to pick up my insulin while I'm at the hospital, and hopefully- with just the slightest bit of luck- pack a lunch.

Goodnight.

Plan of Attach

It feels like I'm always in a state of transition, but I think I'm entering a state of transition.

I feel restless all the time, and while I'm really happy with a lot of how my life looks, I am apparently dissatisfied with a lot. So what to do.

I've been thinking a lot about how to take on the big things through the daily things, and I heard an expression today that suits both the task and my preference for the ridiculous: Lick by lick, the cow ate the grindstone. Tonight I got halfway through watching Creed, the updated Rocky movie. It is alright- Michael B. Jordan is great, and the fight scenes are intense and shot in many long takes, but the love story is cheesy and unrealistic, and I just can't have that in an overcoming all odds story about the guy who may not have the same physical prowess as the bad guy- but all the heart- and his inevitable, feelgood win. But Sly says "Yo Adrian" at one point, so it's all worth it. Jennyway, during the training, Rocky keeps telling his protege "one punch, one round," reminding him that you only win one punch at a time.

The game of chess came up earlier today, and again at tennis, when I relearned how to serve. My coach talked about strategy, and I was reminded about why I quit playing tennis. I did not like the competitiveness- what felt like mean-spirited moves. I found it made me mad, and then I would play worse. My coach smiled, and asked me to think about it in terms of a mind game. I closed my mouth and swallowed back my usual chorus of "I'm no good at strategy" and "I don't want to play like that" and tried to think about it as exercise for the brain. He promised that in tennis, you're planning less moves in advance, but you are thinking about challenging your opponent, and knocking them out of their groove. I'm wondering why I like tennis so much. Is it because I learned it young? I do like the lines and aesthetics of it, but maybe there's something about the strategy I also like. Isn't that a basic theme of all sports? On another possibly unrelated sidenote, I sent Sarah a picture of my progress on a puzzle she'd given me, and her husband remarked that I was very strategic, which surprised me. Two things I would have never anticipated being called this past year: strategic and sporty.

The regular deal with me is that I would most often rather be passive, because my assertive goes straight to aggressive. I know that may look wrong to my family, but that's because I'm very comfortable with you. In my daily life, I give in. I love to drive, and will absolutely take the wheel, but if someone's grabbing it, I'll let them take it. My other tennis coach is constantly after me to hold my ground, because when I do, I am a force to be reckoned with. And Tracy said something to me the other day about speaking up that was really funny- her example was if some creep tried to carry me off, the time to disagree is not once I'm already tied up in his rape lair (I must specifically credit her for the words "rape lair," because that's still cracking me up).

So I get these things, and am seeing them everywhere, so now it's about how to incorporate them. Another saying I just found is: A Sunday well spent brings a week of content. Yeah, I know- I'm rolling my eyes along with you- but I'm trying to figure out what this means- is it about being an ant, or is it about being a grasshopper?

I recently heard from both a resiliency class and a happiness podcast a warning about the danger of stockpiling. Keeping enough of whatever is not going to help in a crisis. What's going to help is your ability to adapt. A brief disclaimer, of course, that of course you need some things on hand, but this was specifically about the excess. That was Ant's criticism- if I wrote that part. He said I was very organized, I just had a lot of the same things.

I have some things to do, but the processing helps to clarify and solidify. In my mind, I've got three main things to do- and I found a tool for thought yesterday on how to break those things down into steps. The bottom line is my favorite Joan Rivers quote:

It doesn't get better. You get better.

It's not going to get easier, or less complicated, or more beautiful. I do want to get better- it is my constant quest. And if I want to get better, and to accomplish the things I have in mind, I'd better repurpose my daily time.


1) Practice calmly holding my ground
2) Use what I've got and purge what I don't need
3) Write and edit

Screw you, soup.

I can't make soup.

I'm feel like a failure and I hate everyone and I want a cigarette.