I’ve talked about this before. A year or two after my seachange I joked about the idea of going on holiday to some nice apartment in a coastal town somewhere, when—in fact—I lived in a nice apartment on the beach in a coastal town. Of course I’m not ‘right’ on the beach now, but have my beach views so many would opt for my house as a holiday destination.
Location aside, it occurs to me the whole idea of a holiday is kinda ironic. I mean, isn’t it?
I have new sneakers. I know that’s not a big deal for most people. Indeed once it wouldn’t have been for me either. When I was a regular gym-goer and exerciser I used to get new sneakers (aka: sandshoes, runners, joggers) each year. I was – back then – a Nike addict so the brand was usually a no-brainer and often I had several pairs, cross-trainers for sport or gym classes; and running shoes for… well for walking.
Regular readers would know however that my exercise regime has been sporadic over the last decade (or two). When I’m on a fitness roll – as I was before my seachange – I attended gym classes 4-5 days a week. And sometimes walked as well.
So much for starting the new year with a bang. First I published an overly-dramatic post about food and my weight. Then I accidentally got sunburnt when visiting the local pool for a friend’s birthday celebrations. (A no-no for me as my father ultimately died as a result of skin cancer. Sort of.)
But, as this morning rolled around and those gainfully employed prepared to return to work, I decided I’d start the year afresh and on a positive note. My university break was over and I’d already done the reading required for the coming week. I was due to head back to my over 50s exercise classes and my clothes were laid out ready.
Anyone who knows me knows I’m very bah-humbug about Christmas. I’m not Scrooge-like exactly but the entire thing leaves me kinda cold. Perhaps it’s because here in Australia we’re far from the traditional images we see on television of snow and crackling fires. Here – increasingly – Aussies are more about prawns on the BBQ or seafood by the beach.
As as I’m not big on Christmas food (turkey, plum puddings, or seafood), Easter is my festive season of choice. Cos, well… chocolate. Though I’m not sure Christians would agree, but whatevs.
The title is meant to be a play on ‘my day on a plate’ but meh. The last few weeks have had their fair share of ups and downs. I realise I have much to be grateful for and – compared to most – little to complain about. Nonetheless, hang onto your seat as I’m going to have a little whinge.
I watched Palm Springs (the movie) a couple of days ago. I like Andy Samberg in his role in Brooklyn Nine-Nine but actually had little idea what the movie was about. I figured it to be some sort of rom-com. And it is… kinda. Except with a groundhog day theme activated by some weird phenomenon in a desert cave.
But if you ignore the mystical element (required if you’re a logic-lover like me who needs to understand how and why) it’s a really enjoyable movie.
I found however that I was struck by something more profound than I expected from a light romp.
Like many I’ve seen Brene Brown’s famous TED talk, watched her Netflix documentary and read a million other things about her shame research.
Despite this I’ve only just realised I’ve been misconstruing what she means by shame.
When I’ve thought of shame I’ve thought of BEING ASHAMED. Not being shamed by others, but feeling that way ourselves, akin to embarrassment. And I’ve not really thought it applied to me. However, I now recognise when I talk about feeling guilty – by her definition, I’m actually talking about feeling shame.
I was going to call this Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc but the title I’ve used is an abbreviation of that. Apparently. It’s a phrase I only know from watching The West Wing. I don’t think it’s actually the right phrase for what I’m trying to say here, but the only other one I can think of is something from the lessons we had at school when computers were first being introduced in the mid 1980s… IF <something> THEN <something else>. Clear as mud?
Which doesn’t bring me to my point which is actually about exercise, fitness and ageing.
I started going to over-50s exercise classes a couple of months ago. My main motivating factor was that they were being held IN MY SUBURB…. or at least the neighbouring one. Small group, low impact, inexpensive. So, perfect.
Something’s turned lately. I’m not sure what it is but I’ve started second-guessing decisions I’ve made and thinking about my future. Perhaps my mother’s fears about my unemployment and financial situation have rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’ve been overthinking again: should I be pursuing a career and focusing on financial security; or just paying my bills and enjoying life?
I’ve actually started writing something about that. Unsurprisingly it’s “WTF have I done with my life?” themed. And a reminder I need to stop going on LinkedIn because former colleagues and those who worked for me are doing great things…. while I remain unemployed. And perhaps unemployable.
However… I had a conversation with my bestie yesterday and was reminded that, though I might have been in some sort of (contented) limbo these past eight years, from the outside looking in, my life looks pretty good. And I realise this sounds arrogant, but—fuck it—I EARNED IT! I didn’t inherit it, I wasn’t handed it. I did it all. Alone!*