Reaching for My Bootstraps

I don't really want to "move on," as they say. I mean WTF does that mean, anyway?! I will never get over what has happened, and part of me will always be broken. So I try to go through the motions, to make it through the day, I suppose. Maybe some part of my old routine will help me learn to keep living, and be open to joy again. But I know that I need to do different and new things right now, and am going to seek out those paths and experiences, too.

But first, back to matters of routine.

I sorta did and sorta didn't want to go back to the gym and start putting my wracked body together again. I have missed my hardcore workouts terribly (not to mention feeling proud of the results). But at the same time, resuming these workouts means acknowledging that something has changed inside of me -- confronting it, if you will, and trying to work through some of those feelings.

This was so painfully clear to me when I went to Dr. J's office yesterday, to have him adjust me. While he had me hooked up to the stim machine, I asked him to rub my shoulders (where I always carry my tension), and my legs too. He obliged, and a few minutes into it, I found myself crying . . . the realization that my body was in desperate need of receiving positive touch, and the endorphins that make you feel positive accordingly . . . I have been so thoroughly poked and prodded for the past couple of years, and then add the excruciating physical pain of recent, and it hit me that I need to get back to doing things that feel good.

Anyhoo, this brings me to the gym. I tried to go yesterday, but my heart wasn't in it, and my body felt sore (yes, "down there"). So I flaked out on going. But today I knew I just needed to go again -- to sweat, to exert, to push, to lose myself through a combination of some frenetic workout and pulsating music in my ears.

So I did.

And I was so glad I did. It felt wonderful. I was surprised that I still had the endurance to have a quality cardio workout. I was pleased that my muscle tone hadn't completely left me, as I was able to resume weightlifting (albeit at a lower level since I am still semi-medically restricted). It felt so good to have this part of myself back, something I remembered enjoying before.

Now while I have little doubt that will I be complaining of aches and pains tomorrow, it was good to be able to have the release today. And I was proud of myself for taking this step, at least in my mind, to put myself back together, even if just a tiny bit.