Last year I took on too much. My personal life fell apart in somewhat spectacular fashion. I did what i always do when I don’t want to think about something, and i filled my life with lots of training, and blogging, and more training, and training other people, and i hit a wall.
I went on holiday in July, and i had what i told myself would be one week off. I ate pizza, I drank cider, I didn’t exercise (although i had my stuff with me), I swam with my kids and I got a sun tan and it was amazing. I was really skinny at this point, the smallest I have ever been. I had been attempting to ‘cut’ on a frame that there was nothing to cut from. And, I was miserable in all honesty. I came back and thought ‘fuck this shit’ it’s not worth it. So I continued to eat pizza, and drink cider, and hang out with my kids, and I rather quickly cut down on my training. Before going away I had been training a LOT, sometimes twice/three times a day, and at least once a day. I stopped. I took another week off, then i took another. I think maybe I ran in August, I can’t remember.
The emotional stress of 2015 is something I haven’t ever experienced before. It was hard. When Jess was born in 2014 and the relationship with her dad broke down I never anticipated it would get as bad as it did. But it did. In fact it got worse. There have been lawyers, and letters, and arrests, and court cases, and threats, and more lawyers, and harassment, and guilt, and sleepless nights, and tears, and stress. And I buried it all under weights and cardio and clean eating. At this moment, it’s quiet. In the last few weeks, since Mid December really, I finally feel like I have clawed myself back to where I was, god I don’t even know. I don’t really remember the last time I had a thought or a day, or even a moment where there wasn’t an undertone of some form of ‘his’ stress there. That’s hard. It’s hard to even vocalise, it’s hard to admit to, that something or someone can consume you so badly. When everyone around you is stressed by it to, and they are worried, so you can’t be worried. So you just ignore it, go to the gym, train again, because when you train you don’t think about anything. Until you hit the wall and you can’t train anymore. It’s hard.
Do you want to know what’s harder? Not training. Not being able to even muster one small speck of motivation to make yourself go run 5km. I mean whats the point? Doesn’t matter does it, you still look ok, you’re still relatively strong, maybe in the morning you can tense and still see abs? So its fine. It doesn’t bother you that you’ve not lifted in weeks, or ran in more. Because you’re fine. You’re not affected by anything else in your life at all, this complete hiatus from what you love isn’t because of anything else. You’re fine. Except you’re not. Not fine. 2015 wasn’t fine. 2014 wasn’t fine. Things aren’t fine.
And then one day. One day you are actually fine. It was weird, I went for a shower recently (I have showered since this day i can assure you), and I was in there, signing, yes to Taylor Swift, and i thought that actually, fuck this shit. Fuck. This. Shit. I am not someone who is ruined by other people, I am not someone who lacks motivation or ambition or drive. I am not someone who doesn’t exercise and who lives on pizza and processed food, and worries about what people think or the affect someone – who is nothing, can have on my life. I am not that person. And i won’t ever be. It was a pretty life affirming shower I can tell you.
So i’ve been to the gym. Three times in three days. I’ve eaten clean for three days. I decided to stop drinking, and I have. I am done with 2015, it will not define me, it will not ruin me. I will not go back to over training and under eating and trying to be someone I don’t want to be or I think other people want me to be. I am me. I am back.
Watch out 2016…I am coming for you. No looking back.