This is a tough-love reminder to myself and to the greater social media community that life is not a highlight reel.
I admit I am guilty of subscribing to the filtered, curated stream of photographic consciousness posted to Instagram most of the time. Although, sometimes I'm blessed to be able to find those beautiful moments even when the outlook is bleaker than it appears on the internet. However, I very rarely post the bloopers, the blunders, the weak spots, or the vulnerabilities because I am--like so many other humans--reluctantly all-too-concerned with how I am perceived by my friends, family, and even strangers-at-large.
Today I take a break from all that filtering to say--whole-heartedly, and with fervor--that the struggle is real.
I recently moved with my boyfriend and our giant dog into a brand-new-fresh-off-the-presses apartment (it wasn't actually even completed totally when we started moving our stuff in). I was coming from a studio across town, but he was coming all the way from the Adirondacks. I also recently discovered that it is nearly impossible to unpack and get settled whilst working full-time. And forget about having time to exercise regularly or prepare whole, healthy meals and keep up any semblance of having my ish together (because I definitely don't).
Basically the last two weeks or so have been an exercise in remembering what it was like before I learned how to properly take care of myself.
Living out of boxes. Working long hours with an irregular schedule. No evidence of routine. No energy or perceived time to workout. No internet. Financial woes.
Thank the gods I have a partner-in-crime to lean on at the end of each disproportionately exhausting day. Of course, sharing a space with another human being presents its own set of problems--even if he is the love of your life. But in general, this adjustment has the most optimistic prognosis.
In other news, our water smells of sulfur (rotten eggs) so I am less than motivated to soak in the bath (I give myself kudos when I can simply rally to shower daily). My yoga mat is rolled up in the corner anxiously waiting to be used in a pile of other stuff I can't unpack and set up until we find some decent shelves. My "back patio", front door step, and general lawn for about a 30-meter radius around my house is a mud pit.
Beyond that mud pit, though, is a killdeer nest. And a 1-acre dog park that Katahdin can rule with an iron paw. Not too far down the road is access to the Cayuga Trail system and Sapsucker Woods. And there are wild blackberries in the hedgerow behind our house. My partner has patience with me (that most of the time I don't deserve), and is becoming more and more comfortable cooking Whole30 for and with me. Occasionally, I can go to the gym during my lunch break.
Still, I struggle.
A lot.
I am often overwhelmed with how much there is to do. The days rarely seem to have enough hours in them. Many times I catch myself wondering, "This is summer. Aren't I supposed to be less stressed during the summer?"
I spent basically the entire spring semester telling myself and my therapist that once I got to summer things would be better. Once I moved, things would get easier because I wouldn't be lonely anymore. My summer research internship would be less demanding than my academic course load. The weather would improve and I would be able to get outside and move more. All these things collectively would benefit my overall well-being.
Yet, "things" aren't better.
I've lost that post-Whole30 sweet spot where everything in my body was well-oiled and running smoothly (even though I haven't even really gone off Whole30 in my day-to-day life). The bloom is off the Whole30 rose, I guess you could say. But does that mean that I really go back to the misery I felt before the Whole30 was a staple in my life? Most of the positive behavior changes and habits have stuck, so why do I feel like I've taken so many steps back? I guess even though the Whole30 taught me so much about how influential nutrition is to most every aspect of my life, I've already forgotten that a little.
And did I mention my back is sore again? My back is sore again! This is the most disconcerting symptom of my stressed out state.
My only solace is that I can recognize stress and anxiety to be the instigators and take measures to combat it before I end up in urgent care again. BUT I AM SO DISCOURAGED. I was improving so much. Physical therapy, emotional therapy, Whole30 eating and living, getting my strength back and feeling good in my skin--these are all positive steps I've taken in the last six months. And I will be damned if all that work is for naught because I can't handle a little transitioning in my life.
Part of the issue could be that the last year (and if you want to get deep with it--the last four years, nay, seven years) have been perpetual transition, and I've done a pretty crap job of coping so far.
Yet again, I find myself looking toward some nebulous future time when "things" will miraculously be better. When I get settled in this new home. When I have the routine of school again. When I get my financial aid figured out for next year. When I graduate. When I finally feel like I'm on the right career path. Blah blah blah blah blah...
Am I kidding myself?
If I cataloged my thoughts for a day, an overwhelming amount of the them would be tainted with doubt, shame, and insecurity. However, nearly none of these feelings are expressed in the words I speak to those around me or in how I present myself on social media platforms. That's mostly because I don't want to burden my loved ones with those thoughts. And I'm embarrassed that I even think most of them.
So you see the yummy food I eat. And my handsome-adorable-spectacular-amazing-beautiful-wonderful dog. And the occasional pastel painted sunset. And the flattering yoga poses and shameless gym selfies. The cliché things.
And all I can think of right now is how I'm ashamed that my internet-life is a cliché. And while I'm being honest, I'm ashamed to admit most of the things I've said here. But I'm saying it anyway--selfishly--because I hope someone else will see it and realize they can be real on the internet too. And the more real we see presented on the internet, the less we have to be ashamed of in our own lives.
