I have been slowly transitioning to a tinted moisturizer.
I have gotten to the point where I am just not into foundation anymore. It doesn’t feel good on my face and it has ruined the collars on my coats.
Also, good foundation is expensive, and I’m done shelling out money that could be put towards things I really need.
My priorities are shifting. I no longer need to look a certain way, or to hide behind foundation (which I was doing, it was a mask for me).
Today was day one (outside of weekends) of my journey with just tinted moisturizer.
I found this brand via social media, and get it through Amazon.
It’s light and has an SPF. My face feels great.
I will admit, I was very self conscious. My daughter and her friend were my hype women when I got home today and announced I had done my first work day without makeup (get yourself some hype women, it’s worth it).
I don’t even think anyone really noticed to be honest.
It felt freeing, AND it gave me back precious time in the morning when getting ready for work.
I’m also curious to see if my skin does its weird little breakouts now that I’ve moved on. Also, how will my brain try to sabotage me? That’s the big question.
Stay tuned. I’ll be sharing more of this journey in the coming weeks!
So many great things about this season. The trees changing, the crisp air, and of course, Halloween!
I am getting closer to my 10k race in November. Looking forward to running with all my peeps in Team Myles 💚
For some reason though, I am full of anxiety. Like over the top full.
I can’t really discern the reason why. There really is no specific reason.
It’s like I want to jump out of my own skin. I’m restless. I’m full of the heebie jeebies.
It’s going to take some work to figure this one out.
As I ran on the weekend I did feel a little bit of relief. But that’s when the calf tightened up and I got some anxiety on top of the regular anxiety.
Sigh.
Having to face the anxiety is something I would like to avoid, but that won’t help me.
So it’s up to me to sit down and write this stuff out, and confront my saboteurs. They’re trying to tell me something, I just need to figure out what they think they’re protecting me from.
I’ve gained weight. Gone up 4 sizes as a matter of fact.
It’s happened over the past few years.
As part of my journey to self acceptance, I’ve struggled with this extra weight on my body.
Societal issues with body image has done a number on my head, and it hasn’t been easy accepting where I am at right now.
Being gentle with myself isn’t easy. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to my body.
Mentally, it’s even worse. Having been in an emotionally abusive long term relationship does a number on you. Seeing rolls meant I would come under fire. But being “skinny” meant I was also a target for other men’s attention. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Always under fire, always on alert.
That has stuck with me for a very long time.
I have been thankful lately to the body positivity movement for shifting the narrative.
Shifting my narrative is going to take some time. Acknowledging that my body is a power house is my first step. I’ve harboured a human life in this body. I’ve run half marathons with this body. I am surviving a pandemic with this body. I will continue to do great things with this body, no matter what.
Instead of trying to “get back to where I was”, I am working with what I have. I still run, I still workout. Instead of focusing on losing weight, I am focused on staying strong and healthy.
Starting now, I am treating my body with kindness instead of disdain. It deserves kindness, and I deserve kindness, especially after all these years thinking I HAD to look a certain way to be accepted.
I may not be a “perfect 10”, but goddammit I am a “perfect 14”.
I’ve read and heard enough about self love lately. I’m on another path right now.
I’ve also overcome the thoughts that I am not good enough to be loved. I am not only good enough, but worthy.
What has been important to me this past year has been self acceptance. Accepting not only who I am, but accepting everything that comes along with that.
I have been on a roller coaster ride with my mental illness for almost 10 years. Fighting against it, and exhausting myself.
I’ve stopped fighting it, and am learning to manoeuvre the curves. It’s a part of who I am, and learning to work with it has been eye opening.
As I’ve said recently, I am also accepting my past, all of the good and the bad. The experiences throughout my life have shaped me into who I am today. Have I been through a lot? Yes. Have I been hurt physically and mentally? Yes.
Resilience? Got that, in spades.
Confronting all of the things has not been easy. The desire to fight against everything is strong. It’s in my nature to make things right, to push against that which is trying to “get at me”. Feeling my feelings is challenging, but necessary. Acknowledging them is a must.
This week I uncovered some of my lost soul. The part I lost through my toxic marriage. I found my love of learning, my love of self discovery, and my desire to move forward.
I have started reaching out to the universe. I have decided that I WANT to be seen. I am going to stop using certain words that will limit my self growth. I have learned that self protection is holding me back.
This is a lot, and I know that with my mental illness it won’t always be easy to put myself out there, but I am going to try my hardest to be the woman I know is inside.
I am reclaiming my power. The power I lost when I let someone take it from me. I let someone dictate who I was, how I looked, and what I did. I reclaimed a bit of it when I left that toxic relationship with my then infant daughter, but I never fully owned it again.
I am owning it now.
Recent events have made me realize just how resilient I am.
Moving forward means shedding some skin, which will be uncomfortable. Growth is uncomfortable, but I am willing to take the risk.
One thing I have come to accept is that mental illness is NOT a personal failure.
I have felt that way for years. That I had somehow caused it. That I was responsible for it “showing up”. I also put the blame on myself when my daughter was diagnosed. It must have been my fault. What did I do to let this happen?
The answer is nothing. I did nothing to “let it happen”. Chemical imbalances are just that. Imbalances. My brain needed help. I needed help. My daughter needed help.
Once I was able to make peace with this, then it became a little easier to fight the negative voice inside my head. Do I always win? No. But I try my hardest to not listen when it tells me what a failure I am.
I am who I am, and I will always try to share my good and bad days. People need to know that just because I appear happy go lucky, it doesn’t mean I am not hiding the fact that I struggling. On my bad days I am trying my hardest to fight “the voice”.
Sometimes I will admit defeat, and even though it may be hard, I let myself go through what I need to go through. Keeping the bad days at bay are not always the best solution, and we shouldn’t feel bad for having them.
Being able to navigate this thing called depression is not easy, but I’m doing my best. My daughter is doing her best. I know that everyone diagnosed with mental illness is doing their best.
We’ve made it through some of our worst days, and we’ll make it through many more.
I ran my first race (a 10k) 3 weeks before I was diagnosed with depression. I was numb. I ran out of pure spite. I had no idea I was on the road to a breakdown. I thought this was just a finish line.
I never thought running would be the thing that saved me.
I used to watch people running and think “Why are they doing that to themselves?” Who would want to run by choice?
I thought runners were some weird breed of human that loved self torture. Maybe they are, but not in the negative way I thought before.
You see, my perspective changed…
I was diagnosed with depression on June 17, 2011. I had become a shell of my former self. I had been going through the motions, yelling at my daughter for no reason, and slowly retreating into the shadows.
When talking about a treatment plan, my doctor told me it was important that I keep moving. Moving was hard. Moving hurt. Getting out of bed was this insurmountable task. How could I keep moving when all I wanted to do was sleep and not get out of bed?
I kept working with a personal trainer for a while to get my mobility back (depression robs you of so much, even moving), and got out for walks with family and friends.
Eventually I started running again. Running felt good. When I ran, I could easily work through situations and events that were troubling me. Yes, those first few kilometres are killer, but the feeling afterwards, it’s definitely a rush. Runner’s high is real, and it’s a great motivator.
Running is a gauge for my mental health. When I start to lose interest, and when I don’t want to lace up, I know I am possibly beginning a journey down the rabbit hole again. Sometimes I can catch myself before I get too far down that rabbit hole, but there have been times that I am more than halfway down before I try to climb back up. It is those times that lacing back up and getting out is harder.
Starting over again is always hard, I won’t lie. Everything hurts and my brain is usually working against me. But once I get over the initial hurdle, I get that feeling again. The one where I feel free. Like I CAN get through the clouds and fog, and work through what it is that is holding me back.
I am very lucky to be a part of the running community. It is somewhere that I can lay out my soul and they are there to support me and love me through all my ups and downs. They are my cheerleaders when things get rough, and a board to bounce things off of when I am riding high.
When I am in my running groove, I feel like I can make it through anything. On my not so good days, a run can be just what I need to give myself that mental boost.
It’s not always that way, but even my bad runs are there to teach me something, and I try to find the lesson so I can move forward.
That is what running is for me, a way to keep moving forward, when depression keeps wanting to hold me back.
It is running that made me feel comfortable speaking about my mental illness. It was a running injury that started my blogging journey. It was my blogging journey that led me to using other forms of social media to share my story. We are not alone in our battle. We are a collective voice, and we are stronger than we think we are.
Running, it’s my way to feel unsinkable.
It’s not always easy.
It’s one foot in front of the other.
One step at a time.
We are capable of so much.
We just need to be kind to ourselves and remember our resilience.
I guess I am getting used to this new normal. It’s still surreal, this world we are currently living in.
I live for the sunny days. Even when I am having a bad day on a sunny day, it doesn’t seem so awful.
Still thankful to be able to work from home. It keeps my mind focused.
I am ordering my groceries online and doing pickup. I was no longer able to go into the stores as my anxiety attacks beforehand exhausted me, and I was not able to focus while shopping.
I have been keeping myself occupied during the weekends with crocheting and housework. The crocheting is great for calming my nerves. The housework just makes me feel better.
I am thankful for video apps that keep me in touch with people, it has made a big difference.
I am thankful that I am able to get outside, even if it’s only for 10-20 mins during my work day.
I miss running with friends. I miss the gym. I miss all things right now. Knowing that it may be a while before being able to do “normal” things is a little disheartening at times, but this is the world we live in right now. We need to do what’s best, and that is physical distancing and staying at home. (Also, WASH YOUR HANDS.)
I often wonder how I will look back on this time when I’m older. Will I remember the the things I learned about myself? Will I remember the good things? We’ve had so much heartbreak here in Nova Scotia. I want to remember all the good that has happened. They ways we came together. How we supported one another.
I guess it’s a choice really, on how I remember these times.
Things have been hectic lately. Work has been absolutely overwhelming. Life is all over thr place.
I was out yesterday to do some Christmas shopping. This is the earliest I have started it. I am feeling pretty good about having it started. It has made it easier on my anxiety. I am usually the last minute shopper mid-late December.
I will still have my fancy Christmas anxiety, just hopefully not as much.
Medication news: I am now on birth control for my peri menopause, because my body is all out of control with the hormonal stuff. This wreaks more havoc on my body, but is necessary for now.
So I am medicated, and hormonal. THIS IS GREAT GUYS.
Just trying to make it through the rest of the year without having some sort of meltdown.
So far, I am keeping my head above water, although if I could hibernate for three days I would think I would feel a bit more centred.
Feeling off balance equals feeling a loss of control, and I don’t function well when that happens.
I am taking the early Christmas shopping as a win, and will trudge on with work. Will need to use my apps for meditation more often so I don’t do the downward spiral.
I really need to up my water game too. I haven’t been consistent with that. Time to take the Hydro Flask back to work.
On that note (because I am certain I am about to start rambling) I will leave you with this: remember to take care of yourself, because you matter too.
Everyone who has a mental illness has good days and bad. Some will have more bad than good.
But one thing that really bothers me is how some people, when being open and honest about where they are in their journey, attract those who seem to think it is required to turn it into a competition.
Bad days/months/years are different for everyone.
It should not matter if your experience is different, or maybe even worse than someone else’s.
What matters is that we are all suffering, and we should have compassion for our fellow human suffering just as we are.
There are days that I am just barely making it through the day, and I’ll see someone struggling as well on social media. If I can I’ll reach out and offer some support.
It’s easy to hop into the pile of “misery loves company” and try to commiserate. I’ve done that as well.
But to go “Oh yeah, well I *insert awful time here* so *insert the it is worse than* part here”, is just not helping anyone.
I know it’s tempting. I know we’ve all done it when we’ve been upset. Suffering sucks, and when you are in that dark hole it is not always easy to get back out.
If you can, try and reach out. I know sometimes it feels like someone may go on and on (I sometimes feel like I am going on and on). When you’re suffering, time is a constant. Just one person offering some kind words can make a big difference.
We’re all trying to get through this life in one piece.
Let’s try and give it a little more compassion and understanding.
The Midlife Reframe 