Sometimes good enough is good enough

Sigh.

Let's talk about work-life balance for a minute, shall we? I haven't had much of that lately, trying to cram too much in at once and completely burning out. This was not the time to start a blog. I knew it when I started it. But I wanted to anyway. More on that in a moment. Suffice it to say for now, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I should be better about that going forward.

Let me rewind here for a moment. A few months ago something happened within me. Call it a spark, call it ignition, call it inspiration, call it whatever you like, but all of a sudden a decade's (or more) worth of pipe dreams, "someday I will" ambitions, and set-aside goals came flooding back to me with a desire to do All The Things Right Now. I don't know about you, but I go through waves where I become this hyper-efficient go-getter and there aren't enough hours in the day to do all that I want to do. These spurts of energy typically burn themselves out rather quickly, though, and I can go through months or even YEARS of inactivity. Suddenly I look back and wonder why I didn't do then what I had wanted to do, and if only I had started then where would I be now? Better to start, to be messy, to do a crummy job of something than be the person who looks back in five or ten years and regret not doing the thing, right?

Which is what led me to start this blog. As I said a minute ago, this was not the time to start a new project. Still, I thought doing something once a week was ambitious but reasonable to expect of myself, even with everything going on in my life. Hahaha... oh I'm so adorable sometimes. But the fire that was ignited in me could not be ignored and I just had to start, so I did. Despite the fact I was closing on my very first home purchase. Despite the fact I was moving from a 1900 square foot, two story house (plus basement) into a 700 square foot, one bedroom condo and had to downsize significantly. Despite the fact there were two households worth of stuff to go through (long story). Despite the class I had just signed up to take to begin another side hustle business. Despite the fact the new condo had to be completely scrubbed and repainted because the previous owners who flipped it, did so while smoking. Ugh. I spent the entire month of October scrubbing every surface available and deodorizing the newly installed carpets, priming, and painting. Oh, and I tested positive for covid on the day I closed. So there was that, too. Low energy, no help from anyone because of quarantine and then out of an abundance of caution from others. It's been a full six weeks of working hard, burning the midnight oil, going to bed exhausted and in pain, and getting up before dawn to go to work the next morning. And because I was killing my back, I had to start going to the chiropractor twice a week as well. Sure... why not start a new blog on top of all of that!

But here's the thing. I started. I knew what I wanted to establish. I have months' worth of content I want to write about and loose notes and outlines for that content. I'm actually pivoting from what I wanted my third post to be about because sometimes life just happens. And that's OK.

I confess to not eating the greatest for the last two months or so. I cannot begin to express how much I CRAVE a home-cooked meal that's loaded with veggies. I haven't cooked for myself in probably six weeks. I haven't exactly been living on fast food burgers and fries, but I haven't been always eating the most nutritional meals, either. And yes, there's been more convenience foods than I'd like to admit to and I've eaten more pizza in the last month than I've probably had in the last six months. (Not that that's saying much as pizza is one food I was surprisingly good at giving up years ago.) But I've also tried to make sure I'm getting veggies every day and eating salads regularly, which is one of my favorite meals. So... maybe it's not a total failure, either.

Why do I bring that up? Because I'm a work in progress. I've been listening to an insane number of podcasts during the long hours of painting and packing and sorting so I WISH I could cite where I heard this from, but I'm not entirely sure and I apologize to whomever it was who said this. But one of the podcasts had a guest who was some sort of life and/or health coach and she made a comment that really stuck with me: it's OK not to be perfect all the time. You are taking care of your body the best you can, even if it's not the greatest job you could do. If you're busy or stressed or depressed or sick or lonely or whatever else, and you're eating junk food every day, you are doing the best thing you are capable of doing in that time. Now, I don't necessarily subscribe to that notion because there ARE times where you (or I) can do a LOT better than what we choose to do in any given day, and I don't want "just living" to be an excuse not to nourish our bodies and take care of them the best way we can. But her point was that life happens. Sometimes you're not OK and it's OK to do what you can the best way you can, and when you're in a better position, you can do better.

That's always been one of my biggest problems in my weight loss journey. I am very much an "all or nothing" sort of person. Black and white. I am gluten-intolerant and feel SO much better when I'm completely gluten-free. That's a topic for many blog entries to come (being gluten-free), but for now suffice it to say, when I am on my "on" position, I'm 100% committed: No gluten. No grains. No dairy. Lots of veggies and healthy fats and protein. And absolutely no added sugar. There's no such thing as a safe amount of poison in the body. That's just how I am when I'm going full-on committed to my health. But then I go on vacation or I go to someone's house to eat dinner or I fall off the bandwagon because being perfect ALL the time is exhausting! And realistically it's very difficult to sustain long-term. And when I fall off, I fall OFF. Well, if I screwed up today, I might as well enjoy it. I'll recommit later. Except "later" often comes weeks or months later, not just later that day or week. So I'll go months eating "perfectly" and then months where I eat whatever I want and feel crappy for it. Black or white. Right or wrong. No middle ground.

That is, until this year. Just shy of a year ago my beloved, wonderful mother died. I cannot begin to express the effect this has had on me the past two and a half years since she got sick. I thought I was ready to let her go by the time she did die, but I absolutely wasn't. I'm not sure when this gaping hole in my heart will heal. Even writing this as impersonally as I am now, tears are flowing. I've been "off" on my perfect eating habits for, well, about two and a half years now. I have been taking care of my body as best I could. Sometimes, and more often than I care to admit, that has meant not very well at all. After my mom died, I gave myself permission to eat whatever the heck I wanted to. I knew I didn't want to fall back to food as my comfort in the midst of my grief, but the week or two after she passed it was just what I could do. If I didn't feel like eating, I didn't eat. If I wanted sugar, I ate whatever goodies were coming to us in the mail from well-wishers. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted, how much I wanted, and I didn't care. But I knew long term I did care. I knew my mother wanted me to lose weight. I knew it was important enough to her that in her flurry of "what can I do to take care of my family after I'm gone" activities, she asked me if I would consider weight loss surgery. (No.) I knew that I couldn't let my grief consume my habits and goals. Gaining health and losing weight will be a constant goal for me. So I gave myself a very loose deadline. It was Thanksgiving, which of course is followed by arguably the hardest time of the year to try to start a weight loss program: December. All those holiday treats and candies and sweets around. I didn't have the willpower to start a new weight loss program. Not when I was mourning my mother and couldn't raise the energy to care. But after the holiday season passed, after the initial six weeks or so of grieving, I started to care. Not a lot, but a little. Enough.

I still didn't have the mental or emotional energy (or physical energy, honestly; anyone who has experienced a loss will know that it just sucks the energy right out of you!) to do all the things I normally would do when I made the decision to start eating better. I was literally on an elevator going down ONE story sometime in mid January when I had an epiphany moment: I didn't HAVE to do it perfectly. I could just do what I could do. It wasn't a race to lose weight. I've always wanted to get as much off as fast as healthfully possible. But I realized that if I just started... I'd be so much better off in six months than I was in that moment, even if it only meant a few pounds lost or better energy or mental health or whatever that "gain health, lose weight" goal looked like. I committed right there to taking the stairs instead of the elevator. That was it. That was my only goal to start. (And I confess, I'm still not all that good at it sometimes!) Which led to me wanting to improve my step count. I got myself a fitbit and started getting hourly reminders to get 250 steps in; something that has been of benefit to me in my very sedentary desk job. I got something I really wanted for Christmas that had a one month trial workout program installed on it and decided to check it out which turned out to be a complete game changer. Quite literally. I will eventually write a whole post on this fitness program (and most likely more than one because it's completely transformed my life for the better), but suffice it to say, I started working out regularly for the first time in years. I actually gave myself tennis elbow and had to do months of physical therapy for it. What was happening to me?? I was working out and loving it. My mental health was improving. I still wasn't eating perfectly (and clearly I'm still not), but I was making some better food decisions. I decided moderation was worth trying for a change, and while I didn't restrict what I ate, maybe I restricted how MUCH I ate. I joined Noom. Even though in my arrogance of holding a masters degree in nutrition I really didn't find much value in it, I did find the daily discipline of reading their articles and having a group that posted regularly kept me present with my goals. (I did eventually drop Noom before completing the program and found it of limited value for me, but if it works for you, great!) I had a couple of people in the group who really valued my expertise as a nutritionist and who encouraged me to get over my imposter syndrome and start a blog. (Hey ladies! Look! I finally did it! I wish I could communicate that to them now, but when I stopped using Noom I got dropped from my group and have no way to contact them.) And over the course of this past year, somehow I managed to drop 30 pounds without even really trying. I have succeeded in what I promised myself in that elevator 10-ish months ago: I'm in a better position now than I was then. Yes, I could have done better. But I did the best I could with what I've been emotionally able to do.

Which leads me FINALLY back to the subject at hand. I'm doing the best that I can. I haven't fed myself the best I could have done these past couple months, but I'm not a complete delinquent, either. I haven't been working out like I did all spring and summer, but I'm committed to doing at least ten minutes a day. 10 minutes a day means I'm doing at at least 70 minutes of working out a week. It's a lot more than I was doing a year ago! My painting in the condo is mostly done -- just a few window ledges, a hallway, and two small closets to go -- and my furniture is moved in. I still have to move my kitchen stuff over, but I'll do that when my kitchen stops being the staging ground for all my painting stuff. That's my goal for this weekend. I still have tons of work to do at the old house to clear it out, but it will get done. I'm no longer burning the midnight oil getting four hours of sleep a night and my back feels better thanks to the chiropractor. I had my internet turned on today in my new place, so here I am, finally updating this blog that currently no one reads. That's OK. Honestly, it takes the pressure off of me to do things perfectly. It's about starting, about doing, rather than doing it well or building up a following. I've started. And right now, that's enough.