Fitness goes way beyond tennis shoes

 

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Fitness goes way beyond tennis shoes, doesn’t it?

 

Let’s go back to 1972. This is the year I began to remember things clearly as a child. I remember the discipline put on us as we grew, and the time passed. I remember the anger I felt. I remember the plans I made to run away, pack jelly sandwiches and hop on a train car like a hobo. I remember somehow knowing the truth about things and using my voice about it/them which always got me in a world of trouble and grounded for months at a time. But this bike was way fun!

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Now, with all the grounding, having things taken away from me much like a parent would take away their kid’s phone or x-box for a while, the belt-whipping and other things of discipline I experienced, I became hardened. I didn’t think I was “that bad” of a kid to have had the experiences I did with discipline. (???) I also thought that just being born that I was a source of anger or irritation to my parents. (???) I didn’t know what to think except that I wasn’t happy or understood.

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After a while I didn’t give a shit about being grounded- or hit with the belt for that matter. (In our house the was zero sparing of the rod) The belt-smacking was almost second nature to me as it happened so often, and because of it I turned into an antagonist for the belt. It was like a “That’s all you got, punk” after a spanking. I double-dared to be slapped in the face while sticking out my face for it and I remember saying, “You can’t hurt me anymore with that thing so try something else.”

 

I was an awesome kid. HA!

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And I was steadily cruising on a path of fists clenched, a loud voice and in protection-mode of my being. I didn’t have much control or direction or an outlet of where to put it yet, and that might have been why grandma said she only wanted to babysit my twin sister instead of both of us at the same time, because I was “too wild.” As a young girl I heard grandma say that. “Well,” I said to myself that long ago, “If I’m too wild, then I’ll be too wild.” I have to say that from then on I grew into a wildly independent little one.

 

And so, years later, when I was 23 years old, I got engaged.

 

• After one week of meeting the now ex-husband.
• We thought we’d wait a bit to get married.
• That “wait” was two months. (I didn’t know him from Adam)

 

Our family didn’t talk much about marriage and you have to remember, I was on a mission- not to get married but the mission from long ago, to be independent. So, you know, how hard could marriage be?

 

Well I chose a good one: a narcissistic, mama’s boy, thieving, criminal.

 

Literally.

 

There’s a whole treasure-chest-worth of stuff to write you about that and it’ll come as the inspiration hits me, but for now the point is, I hated myself for that marriage. I hated everything about myself:

• I gave up my power.
• I lost my true Self.
• I sank into bullshit behaviors.
• My personal, emotional integrity went straight to hell.
• I went bankrupt.
• I had two cars repossessed.
• Credit? Oh my gorgeous credit was 430. Now she’s recovered nicely.
• And I owe the IRS about $250,000.000- because I took the responsibility for the both of us when the IRS came knocking. (Another story for another day)

And suffice it to say, and all towards myself, I went from complete, numbing darkness, to darkness, to darkness and pissed, to just pissed, to pissed and disgusted, to disgusted and weary, to weary and hopeless, to hopeless and on my last shred of dignity. And then I finally surrendered.

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At that time, I had no idea what I was surrendering to or about, but I couldn’t do anything else because I just didn’t have it in me anymore. My clenched fists, my fight, my independence was shot.

 

We were raised Catholic. Catechism, I believe, was the dumbest thing ever. I never understood the point because to me, it was very “programming.” Memorizing prayers to wax robotic after telling a priest all our bad stuff, and somehow, after all that repetitive praying, going at the speed of light just to get off our knees and out of there as quickly as possible, made no sense to me. So many rules and regs. Yuck. We converted to hallelujah Christian. Oh good, more rules and regs and both religions ended with, “If you don’t follow these rules, you’re going to hell.” Again, to me, programming. God bless religion. It’s not for me.

 

But I did have a sense of “gut feelings” and intuition. It must have been these senses that helped me to understand that somehow, everything would be okay, as I was lying there, face-down on the tile kitchen floor, with no more energy to cry but only whimper, in a heap of misery and despair.

 

You’ll read this from me from time to time: when the student is ready, the teacher shows up. Well, I was ready. And my first teacher showed up. This teacher has been one of many, and each one has taught me something different. Some have stayed in my life over the time, and some haven’t. And for me, that’s the beauty of it: some here for a season, some here for longer, it’s all good.

 

Fitness is about balance of all things we consider important.

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And by my past experiences, my anger, resentment towards others, lack of forgiveness of my Self, and the covering of it all along the way until I was ready for difference, affected me in ways that I am still healing from. Yes, even now I am still healing.

 

I am eternally grateful for all my experiences-for each one has shaped me into who I am today. I chose to put down my ego, (Oh trust me, she’s still present and man is she stubborn!), and in that choice I learned that I could love myself, I could apologize to myself, I could forgive myself and I could thank myself for it all.

 

And because of my choices to let go and allow the shedding my old skin continually, I can live well.

 

Fitness goes way beyond tennis shoes, doesn’t it? (Click here to see the last blog post, Who Says Fitness Stops at Tennis Shoes, Gym Classes, Keto and Protein Shakes?)