The Swing of Things

"Getting settled" is a bit foreign to me. How does one get settled? How does one get the swing of things?

When I moved away from my childhood hometown to my high school and college hometown, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved to college, a whole five minutes from my parent's house, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved to Mexico for a semester, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved in with my new husband forty minutes from home, I cried a lot and had a rough time adjusting.

When I moved to Washington one week ago, I cried a lot and I'm having a rough time adjusting.

Apparently that is what "getting settled" means to me. 

In every single situation, what helped me to move past my roller coaster of emotions was routine. A purpose. Something I had to focus on. When I literally don't have time to think, to focus on the change, to project all the horrible (and usually unlikely) possibilities of the future, I fall into routine and feel just fine. The reality of my world seems right and much less frightening. I usually find that everything I've been so afraid of is much better than I had thought. Isn't that how it generally goes?

Well, I'm not at that point yet with this most recent move. But I want to be. Rather than waiting for my surroundings to miraculously give me that settled feeling, I'm being proactive this time. 

Yesterday, I drove to town and ran errands all by myself. One of my big fears about moving is always getting lost. I'm terrible with directions. Simply awful. So when I was able to get to the gym and to Safeway and back home again without getting lost once I was pretty excited. For me, that is an accomplishment.

[Side note: I'm also afraid of the gym. There are skinny, buff people there. When I went to the one at our apartment complex, I went with Kevin - and it was small. Baby steps. So yesterday, walking into the gym was so intimidating. I found the ellipticals. I scouted out the situation. There, in between two gym goers was the machine which most closely resembled the one I used at our old place. Usually I would choose a machine at least one space away from anyone else. You know, like at the movie theater or church? You don't want to sit by people unless you have to or you know them well. So, even though this elliptical was sandwiched in there, I marched right up and claimed my vehicle to future fitness. Once I was on there for a while, I was feeling pretty good! I was moving right along, actually faster than the gal to my right. I glanced at Keeping Up with the Kardashians on her TV once in a while and silently rocked out to my Workout Playlist. I even noticed an awesome rock wall in the middle of the gym and decided I would climb it someday. I was feeling fierce and on top of the world. Then, some blonde, with legs for days, waltzed over to the elliptical machines and reminded me of my noob-ness. She pumped on that thing like an expert. Perfect rhythm. She would do some two-step move each time she switched directions, without missing a beat. And she was moving at least twice as fast as I was. She was tiny, fit, and tan. I called her a not-so-nice name in my head. And possibly out loud when I was telling Kevin my story later on. But I won't tell. And he won't either. Spousal privilege.]

Driving around our new town, figuring out how to get to Safeway so we can eat, how to get to the gym so I can torture myself, and back home so Kevin's State Trooper brother-in-law won't have to come looking for me- all good things. Especially good for helping me to get the swing of things. But that's just part of it. I need more routine than that.

So I'm making one. I don't have a job right now (possibly the first time since I was a senior in high school or living abroad) and therefor don't have a schedule made for me. Kevin is studying for the bar exam everyday, so we are making a schedule for that - but that leaves hours for me to use up. The little things help. Tuesdays and Thursdays are our laundry days. Since we are sharing a well with two other households, we had to schedule out laundry so it doesn't dry up. And since I want to go to the gym at least three times a week, I'll go the other days: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I'm sure there will be variances once in a while, but this is a good start for a Planner like me.

We get up, let MacDuff relieve himself, make coffee, eat breakfast, do a short devotion, and Kevin goes to study (in the spare bedroom/office) until lunch. There are always little projects for me to do. Picture frames to fill and hang, laundry, exercising, grocery shopping, dishes, sweeping, vacuuming, managing our budget, meal planning, playing/dealing with puppy... 

And part of why I'm not working this month is so that I can relax a bit. I'm so bad at that. But I will give it my best shot. I'm thinking reading, blogging (of course), making our wedding albums (prints and scrapbook), Facebook (duh), that kind of thing. It turns out I'm not very good at relaxing. I feel like there's always some chore I should be doing instead. How very much like my mother I am. So, like my newly retired Mama, I'm trying to allow myself moments of rest and relaxation.

I'm not great at spontaneity. I like plans and routine. Shocking, I know. But I also know that I crave down time that isn't planned down to the minute. Those are the times that I see God best, when I see the blessings in our life, and feel fulfilled and not so drained. But, as our verse from yesterday morning reminded me, "tomorrow will worry about itself", so I need to calm the hell down today. God agrees, I promise.

So tell me: How do you adjust to change? What helps you get settled?

Bob & Jillian, Please Ruin My Life

I would LOVE to do a workout with Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper.

Seriously. No joke.

It would hurt. A lot. My pain would feel pain. My woefully underdevelped upper body would hate me for years.

BUT IT WOULD BE. SO. GOOD.

Whenever I watch The Biggest Loser, my favorite part is watching them in the gym. My sadistic nature loves watching Bob and Jillian literally sit on people trying to do push-ups and loving every minute of it. My masechistic nature thinks that kind of torture would be kind of awesome.

You see, I'm afraid of the gym. I face that fear every time I walk over to our apartment complex gym and get on the elliptical or treadmill. But just a little. I'm not using weights or machines. I'm not kicking a large body pillow (okay, that's what they look like to me). I'm doing what I feel comfortable with.

A good friend of mine offerred to take me to the gym and do a workout with her. It would hurt, too. In the good way. And I really want to! I'm not putting it off to postpone the pain or bolster my fear - this one is a scheduling issue. But when I do make it happen, you will hear about it.

When Bob and Jillian are raking contestants over the coals, they are bringing them to the brink. They are forcing them to sweat out emotional baggage and deal with it. They are holding their issues in their faces without mercy - and I can totally see the love in it. Tough love. A lot of us need it. People who let themselves get to be hundreds of pounds overweight need it. I need it.

What those people keep saying is, "I can't do it." I understand! I would say it, too! I totally don't believe that my body could do the workouts those contestants do. And yet they all weigh much more than me and are less fit (at least to start with)! Why do I still think I couldn't sweat it out like they do?

Just last week, I did intervals on the elliptical for 45 minutes. I turned on an old episode of The Biggest Loser, thanks to Netflix on my iPhone (I will never belittle technology), and I sweat it out. Those minutes have never gone by faster. Motivation, distraction, and endorphins. I loved that workout.

This doesn't show my intervals. But I did them, I tell you!

And I've been trying to add little bits of toning here and there. Shoulder presses while I do my figure-eights in my classroom. Crunches before bed. Walking just a bit faster. Hopping up to do something for Kevin or MacDuff instead of staying on the couch. Every little bit helps. (I actually wish I had one of those BodyBug monitors like the Biggest Loser contestants do to track just how many calories I burn in a day; that would be so cool.)

I don't think I could ever maintain fitness based on daily sweats at the gym. It isn't practical for my lifestyle. But a few times a week? Yeah, I could do that. Workouts at home? Going for walks? Hikes? Sure, that seems doable.

I mean, when I think about long-term, when I picture being home with babies someday - I need to picture how I can maintain my weight with all of that. I want to have the energy to run around with my kids, play with them, keep up my home. I want vitality.

This is really about a mindset. A willingness. Self-control. Willpower.

It is about belief.

Belief that my body can do things it's never done.

Belief that my hard work will pay off in the end.

Belief that I'm worth it (and high-priced shampoo, apparently).

And humility. To ask for help. From God, my husband, family, friends.

Humility to go into public, no matter my weight or the state of my workout duds, and doing what needs to be done. Setting an example for my nieces and nephews who look up to me and for my future kids.

Humility to lead by example in the face of fear.

Even fear of a rowing machine.


So tell me: What fear are you overcoming? What are you doing to exercise? How do you keep it fun and interesting?