It's still me. As much as I hate who I am, as much as I hate what I am, and as much as I hate how I feel, it's still me. We can't leave ourselves to become someone else because we admire who or what they are or how better they appear to be and feel. We can't. We can change ourselves, but we always get back to the same place with new and different experiences and feelings about ourselves.
But it's always still me. I wrote how I've always hated my body since I can remember, and turning 60 it's all there, my past and my present, to be who and what I am and how I feel and think about it and myself. I am my body and mind, and like it or not, it's all I got.
Like that's new or news? Not really. It's the age old fight against ourselves and growing up and growing old. Everyone's been there - or to the youth today, you will be so don't be so complacent and condescending about us being old - and not everyone hates their body and themself. Most don't and most of the rest just live with it.
But some don't and won't. But try as we can, or feel we must, it's always still us. I'm always still me. And I have to face the reality, whatever I think or feel about myself, it's far from the worst and only something away from getting worse. You see, I've always looked at the negative side of things. And try as I have and do it's a struggle not to stay there or go back when I try to see the positive side.
The positive side just doesn't last. I enjoy the moment and see what I have and can accomplish, but then it's gone and I'm thinking of the next thing. Like baseball, you're only as good as your last game and you're only worth as much as your last season. So it is with life and ourselves.
This doesn't mean I hate myself all the time, just enough. And enough is when and where I find myself less than we I would like to accomplish. The old failure thing. It's not the fear of failing I hate, although that's a smaller issue but within normal feelings of most people. It's not the fear of trying, that's also the same.
It's the fear of knowing all my best will never be good enough and almost always be just ordinary. Just like everyone else. That's not a bad thing. We're all ordinary in most respects, and extraordinary in a few. But even then the extraordinary is like many others, so it's being ordinary on another level.
And it's the fear of knowing I won't really achieve what I want or accomplish what's best. Like everyone, it's the limitations we're born with, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. And in my case the Dysthymia just wears down the positive and the hope into just thoughts of what could be or later what could have been.
Simply put, ordinary is relative. And in my case, it's my extraordinary, Dyshtymia, and ordinary for those like me. Relative to who we compare ourselves with to understand how good we are. But it doesn't change the feelings and it doesn't take away the hate. It's always still me. Inside and out. Physically and mentally.
Just me. Like it or not. From brith to death, and everything in between. Just life. Mine.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
What we're given II
I wrote the first in a series of wandering essay on what we're given. That one and the rest are more just thinking out loud than anything, but it helps me sort out thoughts, ideas and feelings, so you can meander through them if you want or just skip back and out. Your choice. But I'll still mentally ponder and wander in words.
I was reading article in today's USA Today about Charlize Theron, article, and the feeling she's comfortable in her skin. Her exposure in some movies isn't about nudity as she's ok with her body. Besides appreciating her as a person and an actress, I admire her for knowing and trusting herself with her body.
You see, I hate mine. A long story starting in childhood. I was small for my age and had a very late puberty. My parents, since they basically ignored me throughout my life until my Dad showed me the front door after my first year of college, decided it wasn't an issue important to worry about and deal with. The proverbial, "He'll grow out of it."
Well, I didn't until my senior year when I grew 9+ inches in 9 months but didn't gain much weight. Through my senior year I went from 4'11" and 95 lbs to 5'9" and 115 lbs. I grew another two inches in my first year of college but didn't gain but 5 more lbs. I went into the Air Force underweight so they put on notice to gain or be discharged. Well I left basic training 155 lbs, gaining 30+ lbs in 8 weeks.
But all of that didn't change my feeling of hating my own body. It's never left. I discovered I can't build muscle. I have almost all slow twitch muscles, great for running and stamina but not much else. All the weight lifting for months gets me very little more muscle. And my body can't run beyond 4 miles without crashing.
So, I was given a body that has real limits. And add a little natural fat and the body images go south real fast. I've run for months on end hoping but never losing what fat I have. I can get it down to a minimum but some is always there. And I've always hated it. And now at about 170-175 lbs, I hate it more as the running doesn't help anymore. Fat is fat and it's there.
And now older and geting where the body doesn't get fitter and I'm fighting the slow decline of age, I hate it more. But there's no answer or solution beyond just living with it, like I haven't done that so far, but facing the reality all the exercise won't change anything very much, it's disheartening.
But it's what I was given. And there is an up side. Yeah, really. For one my family doesn't have an extensive history of heart disease. Except my Dad who needed a five-way heart bypass when he was in his early 70's. We don't have a history of cancers, or that I've heard or know of. Otherwise the men just die in the mid-to-late 70's and the women in the 80's or older.
So, we're a trade-off. What we're given. And hate it or not and be comfortable or not with it, it's still what we're given.
I was reading article in today's USA Today about Charlize Theron, article, and the feeling she's comfortable in her skin. Her exposure in some movies isn't about nudity as she's ok with her body. Besides appreciating her as a person and an actress, I admire her for knowing and trusting herself with her body.
You see, I hate mine. A long story starting in childhood. I was small for my age and had a very late puberty. My parents, since they basically ignored me throughout my life until my Dad showed me the front door after my first year of college, decided it wasn't an issue important to worry about and deal with. The proverbial, "He'll grow out of it."
Well, I didn't until my senior year when I grew 9+ inches in 9 months but didn't gain much weight. Through my senior year I went from 4'11" and 95 lbs to 5'9" and 115 lbs. I grew another two inches in my first year of college but didn't gain but 5 more lbs. I went into the Air Force underweight so they put on notice to gain or be discharged. Well I left basic training 155 lbs, gaining 30+ lbs in 8 weeks.
But all of that didn't change my feeling of hating my own body. It's never left. I discovered I can't build muscle. I have almost all slow twitch muscles, great for running and stamina but not much else. All the weight lifting for months gets me very little more muscle. And my body can't run beyond 4 miles without crashing.
So, I was given a body that has real limits. And add a little natural fat and the body images go south real fast. I've run for months on end hoping but never losing what fat I have. I can get it down to a minimum but some is always there. And I've always hated it. And now at about 170-175 lbs, I hate it more as the running doesn't help anymore. Fat is fat and it's there.
And now older and geting where the body doesn't get fitter and I'm fighting the slow decline of age, I hate it more. But there's no answer or solution beyond just living with it, like I haven't done that so far, but facing the reality all the exercise won't change anything very much, it's disheartening.
But it's what I was given. And there is an up side. Yeah, really. For one my family doesn't have an extensive history of heart disease. Except my Dad who needed a five-way heart bypass when he was in his early 70's. We don't have a history of cancers, or that I've heard or know of. Otherwise the men just die in the mid-to-late 70's and the women in the 80's or older.
So, we're a trade-off. What we're given. And hate it or not and be comfortable or not with it, it's still what we're given.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
What we're given
We were, we are and we will be. Not hard to understand. Life. Life as we see ourselves and the world. Life as we know ourselves and the world. And life as we understand ourselves in and with the world. It's just who we are. And like it or not, it's what is. Complex as we want to think it is, it's not. It's just simple, us and the world.
And it's everyone else, and everyone else doing the same thing. The reality of our being. And everyone's being. It's what we're given. From the moment we're born to the moment our heart stops and we see our last moment and feel our last breath of life. The last we know of our own existence. It all leads to that. And all the moments in between are just what happens. They are. Just are.
All then in the past and we become who and what was. And nothing stops. Except us. A moment and then another. One we're here, conscious, alive and knowing, and one we're the past. An instant. And another. And everything changes. And all the moments in between our first moment and our last moment is gone. If you're lucky, you have an obiturary a few days later.
And all we are then are memories in hearts and minds of others.
And while many argue it's the memories you left in their hearts and minds that's important, it's hard to argue it is those moments in between that at least equally matters. Who we are and what we do in the those moments. Even the simpliest task of just living, as some people struggle just to do that, is just as important to us. Without it, all else isn't.
And it's back to what we're given. Our life. Given by our family history. Given by the enviroment of our mother. Given by the world around us when and after we're born. Given our early years out of our control, simply existing and reacting. Given our childhood, trying to understand and cope not really knowing. Given our teen years thinking we do understand but don't.
And then given the freedom in adulthood to be. Except it's with the events and burden of the past. Our past. As we experienced it and survived. And maybe even flourished at little. We're suddenly there where it's all ours. Jettison the past as you want, and often try, it only becomes a shadow following you. You can't outrun it, dance past it, disguise it, whatever. It's there, always there.
It's when we learn to balance what we're given with what we want that we begin to see reality and our potential. And as much as we want to say we overcame adversities to achieve or accomplish something, in reality, it was always there, it just took the right moment to see the opportunity and they try, which few see and fewer do.
It's why success sells in marketing books, workshops, etc., but it's why you don't need them to succeed, just an open mind and a willingness to imagine and then the willingness to give yourself the freedom to try and the goal to strive toward. The rest you'll do with what you have, how you can, when you can and keep going.
But we're not given that, only the ability to be open and use our imagination. Something we're all too often taught not to use or punished when we do use. We can't change our freedom until adulthood, but by then it's harder to realize it and then use it. What we're given, our abilities, talent and skills, are suppressed and oppressed into ourselves, so deep, it takes years in adulthood to see it.
And when we finally do, what we're given has long be changed by our experiences, some so heavy and some so oppressing, we only fear what we're given, and not see it as freedom. What we're given has evolved to what we didn't know, by ourself, subconsciously. We've lost sight of what we're given. We're not what we're given anymore, but what we're handed by life and the world.
But it's always there, what we're given. Always there. Always. And in the end, it's all we have. We're back to where we were when we were born with what we're given. Everything else is who we were and what we did, and what happened with what we're given. Because in the end, it's what defined us by birth, by life and by our death. What we're given.
And it's everyone else, and everyone else doing the same thing. The reality of our being. And everyone's being. It's what we're given. From the moment we're born to the moment our heart stops and we see our last moment and feel our last breath of life. The last we know of our own existence. It all leads to that. And all the moments in between are just what happens. They are. Just are.
All then in the past and we become who and what was. And nothing stops. Except us. A moment and then another. One we're here, conscious, alive and knowing, and one we're the past. An instant. And another. And everything changes. And all the moments in between our first moment and our last moment is gone. If you're lucky, you have an obiturary a few days later.
And all we are then are memories in hearts and minds of others.
And while many argue it's the memories you left in their hearts and minds that's important, it's hard to argue it is those moments in between that at least equally matters. Who we are and what we do in the those moments. Even the simpliest task of just living, as some people struggle just to do that, is just as important to us. Without it, all else isn't.
And it's back to what we're given. Our life. Given by our family history. Given by the enviroment of our mother. Given by the world around us when and after we're born. Given our early years out of our control, simply existing and reacting. Given our childhood, trying to understand and cope not really knowing. Given our teen years thinking we do understand but don't.
And then given the freedom in adulthood to be. Except it's with the events and burden of the past. Our past. As we experienced it and survived. And maybe even flourished at little. We're suddenly there where it's all ours. Jettison the past as you want, and often try, it only becomes a shadow following you. You can't outrun it, dance past it, disguise it, whatever. It's there, always there.
It's when we learn to balance what we're given with what we want that we begin to see reality and our potential. And as much as we want to say we overcame adversities to achieve or accomplish something, in reality, it was always there, it just took the right moment to see the opportunity and they try, which few see and fewer do.
It's why success sells in marketing books, workshops, etc., but it's why you don't need them to succeed, just an open mind and a willingness to imagine and then the willingness to give yourself the freedom to try and the goal to strive toward. The rest you'll do with what you have, how you can, when you can and keep going.
But we're not given that, only the ability to be open and use our imagination. Something we're all too often taught not to use or punished when we do use. We can't change our freedom until adulthood, but by then it's harder to realize it and then use it. What we're given, our abilities, talent and skills, are suppressed and oppressed into ourselves, so deep, it takes years in adulthood to see it.
And when we finally do, what we're given has long be changed by our experiences, some so heavy and some so oppressing, we only fear what we're given, and not see it as freedom. What we're given has evolved to what we didn't know, by ourself, subconsciously. We've lost sight of what we're given. We're not what we're given anymore, but what we're handed by life and the world.
But it's always there, what we're given. Always there. Always. And in the end, it's all we have. We're back to where we were when we were born with what we're given. Everything else is who we were and what we did, and what happened with what we're given. Because in the end, it's what defined us by birth, by life and by our death. What we're given.
Running
I read a story in the New York Times about a woman who runs to keep her depression in control, see article. I've also read the beneficial effects of running for depression. It does work for me for the periods I have run. My problem is that I'm not addicted enough to running to want to run, I have to motivate myself to run.
And when I don't or find my depression worse and can't motivate myself, I fall into a spiral common with depression. On top of that my body doesn't like running. I never got past 4 miles, and usually 3 miles tops, and never past 3 consecutive days. I know that's also about motivation, but it's also related to your body type, metabolism, and other body factors. It simply begins to quit between 3-4 miles.
It's the same with hiking. I can hike 6-8 miles a day relatively easily, and 10-12 miles some days, but never more than 2 days in a row. I know runners talk about the wall in marathons and often personal walls in their running, and for me, it's a lot closer to short than long (miles) and few than many (days). I've tried over the years to get through only to find I crash.
And as I've aged it's become harder to run and run consistently over days, then weeks and then months. Now I'm not running more often than I'm running and am almost always stuck in the mental running stage getting the mind and body back into the schedule and regime to run. And these periods are longer before I'm comfortable running and wake up thinking about running.
But that's away from the depression idea. The writer points out running acts like an anti-depressant, a natural one the body already has available. I agree from my experience. I didn't start running until I was 28 and have been running on and off ever since, except for long periods when it was realistic, like in Phoenix from spring to fall and lately here with the food issues and problems.
And once I got up to running consistently 3 miles (during and frequently) the benefits kicked in and my Dysthymia almost disappeared or at least reduced to a level it didn't matter. But that was always the fight and battle, between the persistent Dysthymia and running, and all too often running lost, with the resultant body and mind changes. And restarting was harder until it all kicked in again.
And there I am again, only at 60, it really sucks being very hard and slow, and very long. My running is a series of plateaus where for long periods, often months, whatever I do, nothing changes, and then over week, everything changes a little. Over and over, months of the same then a small improvement followed by months of the same. All the motivation, discipline and deetermination hasn't and doesn't change it.
And now it really is the choice I always say everything morning about every day, "You can get better or worse." There's no status quo, everything changes and you have the choice of which direction it goes. But past 50, all the research will tell you is that you don't really improve beyond a level, you're simply slowing the rate of decline. So better isn't really better, just relative to reality of aging.
And so now, and always in my life, it's about depression and keeping it at a minimum and in control, which isn't likely but running, and even walks or hikes, helps. And it beats all the drugs ever made for it.
And when I don't or find my depression worse and can't motivate myself, I fall into a spiral common with depression. On top of that my body doesn't like running. I never got past 4 miles, and usually 3 miles tops, and never past 3 consecutive days. I know that's also about motivation, but it's also related to your body type, metabolism, and other body factors. It simply begins to quit between 3-4 miles.
It's the same with hiking. I can hike 6-8 miles a day relatively easily, and 10-12 miles some days, but never more than 2 days in a row. I know runners talk about the wall in marathons and often personal walls in their running, and for me, it's a lot closer to short than long (miles) and few than many (days). I've tried over the years to get through only to find I crash.
And as I've aged it's become harder to run and run consistently over days, then weeks and then months. Now I'm not running more often than I'm running and am almost always stuck in the mental running stage getting the mind and body back into the schedule and regime to run. And these periods are longer before I'm comfortable running and wake up thinking about running.
But that's away from the depression idea. The writer points out running acts like an anti-depressant, a natural one the body already has available. I agree from my experience. I didn't start running until I was 28 and have been running on and off ever since, except for long periods when it was realistic, like in Phoenix from spring to fall and lately here with the food issues and problems.
And once I got up to running consistently 3 miles (during and frequently) the benefits kicked in and my Dysthymia almost disappeared or at least reduced to a level it didn't matter. But that was always the fight and battle, between the persistent Dysthymia and running, and all too often running lost, with the resultant body and mind changes. And restarting was harder until it all kicked in again.
And there I am again, only at 60, it really sucks being very hard and slow, and very long. My running is a series of plateaus where for long periods, often months, whatever I do, nothing changes, and then over week, everything changes a little. Over and over, months of the same then a small improvement followed by months of the same. All the motivation, discipline and deetermination hasn't and doesn't change it.
And now it really is the choice I always say everything morning about every day, "You can get better or worse." There's no status quo, everything changes and you have the choice of which direction it goes. But past 50, all the research will tell you is that you don't really improve beyond a level, you're simply slowing the rate of decline. So better isn't really better, just relative to reality of aging.
And so now, and always in my life, it's about depression and keeping it at a minimum and in control, which isn't likely but running, and even walks or hikes, helps. And it beats all the drugs ever made for it.
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