The Trouble with Thinking...

Do you ever overthink one thing, but maybe not another? You just can't stop thinking about something. It's stuck, right there, in the middle of your brain...? Yeah, me too.

It's true. I can spend days analyzing someone's offhanded comment. I can spend a week wondering what someone's comment in response to my post on Facebook could mean. If something went poorly, I can worry about the repercussions for months. Most of us are like this about something, if not many things, or even everything. I saw a post this week by a friend in this regard, and it hit home.

 Do you ever overthink about what someone else thinks about you? This cartoon series illustrates just that, a boy who turns into a man worrying about every little thing about himself, based on the comments of others. It's pretty true. I've always envied those that should just sluff off a rude remark or hurtful comment--I've always wondered if people really could just ignore these things. I couldn't...I can't.

The first instance I remember someone else's words impacting the way I thought about myself wasn't even a comment about my body, it was rather my mother's thoughts and comments about her own.

She hated having her picture taken. I would mourn this sad truth after her death when there were few good pictures to be found of her. She didn't like the way she looked after gaining weight with kids, and just life. I remember her perpetually trying to lose weight and complaining about her weight (usually in regard to trying to find clothes that fit). I
distinctly remember pointing out a tee shirt I thought was cute and funny of three funky cows--you know, characterized with glasses, pearls, etc.--no words, just happy cows, and it left her in tears. "That's right, mom's a cow," she said. I was maybe 8 at the time.

I was never a heavy kid. I thought all the time about what I looked like (thanks, society), but I didn't think I looked bad at all, not thin, but pretty normal. For most of my youth, I was a tomboy. In eighth grade, we went on a trip to visit my Aunt Betty (a story for another time), and upon our return, my mother commented that she'd lost weight on the trip (miraculous on any trip, right?) Standing on a scale in her bathroom, I commented that I hadn't changed, or maybe even gained a couple pounds on the trip. Peering over at the dial, she said, "you don't want to weight any more than that." I was in eighth grade, people. I had a lot of growing yet to do. I would, in fact, go on to weigh quite a bit more, and at one point, quite a bit less. Later on at a garage sale, (cue me standing on a giant antique scale), she also said, "I didn't think you weighed that much." I wasn't sure how I should take that one.

So what's the point, you say? Not overthinking is hard. I think most of us can't help it. However, we should try to let things go when we can. My mother never meant any harm in her comments, but they did harm--harm to last a lifetime. I can't not see the imperfections in my body. How could it be prevented, though?

As loyal fans know, my mother was, in fact, also my inspiration for trying to get healthier. She had a heart attack and at 30 years of age and more than 45 pounds overweight, I saw my future right before my eyes. That was time for a change.

For all her flaws, and those she instilled upon my brain, mom was still my number one fan. I miss her tremendously and there are times when I still have to stop myself from picking up the phone to
tell her something exciting that happened, or just bitch about life. So when overthinking your flaws, or how much better someone looks or is at something than you, think of the little people you might be influencing. Not the Roloff's, kids, people; I'm talking about your kids.

I didn't care what my mom looked like. Even though her comments about herself or about me made me think about how I looked, I never once gave a second thought to how she looked. I didn't care, she was my mom. (Sidenote, I tell Patton that Hudson has laser eyes and can see in the dark when he goes out in the backyard at night...)Kids probably don't have laser eyes (think how creepy that would be!), but they do have a pretty unique ability to not see the flaws--in themselves (until someone tells them they're there) or in others (until they realize the power that pointing this out can have in the jungles of kid-dom). Kids are great that way.

Feel like walking around without pants because they don't fit? Go for it, kids encourage it. Want to eat chocolate cake for breakfast, lunch, or dinner? Why not? It's the whole reason kids can't wait to be adults. Not in the mood for laundry, so you re-wear yesterday's outfit? Kids hate to ever change their clothes, what's one day? Wish you were taller and thinner? So do the kids, not for how they look, but so they can reach things (I mean, haven't you ever seen BIG?)

Kids are amazing. Let's try not to screw them up.

F.I.T.

So as you can probably tell, since this is going up late in the day, it's been a busy week.  Here at headquarters we have been interviewing and finalizing a new hire to fill my senior secretary position. Besides interviews, we have been plugging away at the final details of the spring/summer catalog that will be coming out in March. 100 or so classes later, phew!

This week also marked the second week of the C25k program for me. Highlights include not dying and successfully completing each day. Next week the stakes go up as the running intervals increase to 2 minutes at a time. I also got a workout tank that says "FIT: F@!% I'm tired," and it's not untrue. Been more tired than ever this week and I'm not sure if it's the running or fighting off the illness the boys had the last couple weeks. Hoping it's just the physical adjustment. Added sugar for Valentine's Day didn't help the equation either.

That being said, it's also been a week of weird eating with a couple busy nights and an evening of leftovers. March is reading month, so I'm thinking of re-reading my cookbook collection to find some fast and furious, yet delicious, meals. I feel like we're in a meal funk. It's hard to come up with new items that are just enough for 3 and not 10 and not primarily pasta (which I'm not a fan of--looking at YOU Rachel Ray) or liquor (which Semi-Homemade Sandra Lee WAS a fan of). 

Also, enough with the snow and frigid temps already, Michigan. The loaner car I have can
detect my trashcans next to it but has a hard time steering away from the deep country ditches on the icy roads. I'd rather not get jaws-of-lifed on my way home one night. It's all I can do to keep old red centered. Please, summer, hurry up!

Snowpe

Well Michigan, you really made my return lovely--2 boys with illness and yesterday and today, snow. And not the kind of fun thick snow you can build a snowman with--light fluffy, just-enough-to-make-the-roads-slippery snow. Alas, Phil promised me an early spring (the groundhog, not the plague-ridden guy I live with). Where is it?

This week also marked the kickoff of my adventure with the Couch to 5k program. I didn't follow it when I originally started running but followed the same basic principle without the structure--run/walk until you can run the whole time. I was a lot more motivated seven years ago, however, so I figured following a program (insert 12-step joke here) would probably be my best bet this time around. If Britney did it, so can I. The last day of week 1, I will complete today on my lunch break--but with an extra run tomorrow morning with the sister-in-law who is also starting out with the program. 

So what conclusions did I draw from this week? You can eat healthily and

exercise and not lose any weight. Well, there's always next week. Running will eventually make me have lots of energy, but it's making me more tired right now. Mornings were rough this week, but sunlight and more miles will resolve that at some point--the miles may come easier than the sunlight here in Michigan. Support helps, whether self-accountability or other people. Did I want to start that program this week? No, but it was time. I posted to a workout group/page I'm in when I completed a day--sorry guys--and I also checked in with the sister-in-law on her progress and even got pushed into going to yesterday's last-minute run by office partner in crime. She's right, I probably wasn't going out in the snowstorm.

So now what? Just keep moving.