Tag Archives: changing myself

Riding the Wave: Back at It

It’s been a day filled with plumbing excitement. I returned home last evening to find some other tenant’s mystery filth backed up in my bathroom sink.

18 hours later, it’s as good as new, and was even cleaned by the handyman. A year ago, I’d be waiting for a couple days or more, since, hey, bathroom sinks aren’t as important as kitchen sinks, and they didn’t rate the same service by my slack-ass jerk of a former landlord.

In little things like how my building is maintained, my life has changed from night to day in a year.

Sure, I need little things yet… like, you know, friends. But I know me and I’ll get ’em. And I’ll get ’em when I’m feeling better about myself than I have been before now, and I’ll net better quality people, because that’s what happens when you’re in a better place in both your life and your mind. It’s always about quality for me.

Who I am *right now* is much, much closer to the person I’ve been trying to get back to for quite some time.

My health’s improving on every level. I think know I bottomed out with the move here, but that was after what had been the most difficult year of my life. So, naturally, one has a little nuclear fall-out dealio with that.

But if this is how much everything has improved since July 1, then I can’t wait to see what’s ahead.

September 1st is my six-month anniversary of becoming a Victorian in this fine town, and the first four months were rife with a great deal of pain and injuries. I had a whole lot of painkillers for three-plus months there, people. Now I take maybe a pill a week. That’s, you know, improvement — or great restraint! But, no, it’s improvement. I just don’t need it because I’m just “regular sore” now and I’m woman enough to handle it.

I’ve gone from, in the third week of April, barely getting through a 5km bike ride without back twinges to being able to cycle 35km/130 minutes in an evening and just being ass-draggin’ wasted-tired, not crippled.

I’m trying to be active daily, usually walking 5 kilometres or cycling 10 kilometres, or more, a combination of both, every day. I’m using my balance ball chair for watching TV most days (but took the back off, because that’s just counterintuitive!) for an hour or more, I’ve phased in some weightlifting.

Now I’ve discovered I’ve healed my badly injured-and-then-reinjured-in-a-biking-accident shoulder on my own mostly, and I’ve gone from being unable to do a side plank AT ALL in the last three years to being able to do one for more than 30 seconds yesterday.

I’m only now returning to the level I was at in late 2009 in what I am able to do, but I’ve gained weight.

Now I’m past the “painful incapable stage” where I couldn’t DO anything, but I’m in the Oh-Fuck-I-Hurt stiff-ass sore-everywhere phase one gets into after they’ve started firing on all exercise gears. At least I’ve worked up to this stage slowly, so it’s only the first day or two of trying something new where it hurts. Today is residual pain from rediscovering planks and push-ups, but it’s not “something’s wrong” pain or over-inflamed, so I know it’s all good.

Shortly, I expect to actually enjoy working out without being apprehensive about what The Day After will bring, and I see myself being pumped about lifting weights and doing plyometrics.

Diet? I’m conjuring a plan to increase my meat and vegetables, and cut out carbs but I’m not too optimistic there yet, and I think this is the week I get serious. No more chocolate and other treats, no more fucking around with monster portions.

There gets to be a point where you’re working too hard to keep blowing out your diet. Like that time I cycled 35 kilometres from out of town to home, for more than two hours of cardio, then ate a whole commercial small pizza with a bottle of wine? Yeah. Talk about oxymoronic. But it was delicious and well-earned. Just… you know. Didn’t change anything, and I coulda.

I know people panic about getting everything right all at once, and I know it’s awesome result-wise when you do, but I’m just not that person. I can’t make radical changes all at once.

The moving-to-a-new-city thing was radical enough for one season. Yet, I’ll be phasing in new changes weekly. Little things here and there. Like, I’m considering going cold turkey on butter/margarine for a month. If I do it now, I can have it back for my birthday… Ooh.

So this is where I’m at, people. I’m working a lot. Exercising a lot. Changing my mind and body, if not yet the diet. Sort of figuring out where the hell I’m headed, but liking the view as I go.

It’s pretty much a deeply personal time as I kind of clue into a lot of things. But it’s a good time. Now and then, I’ll share some with you.

Hope you’re doing well too.

Going, Going…

Tonight I have a party thingie so people can come say goodbye to me.

Don’t I feel narcissistic. Holy cow.

I never throw parties for myself but I’m sure liking this “see everyone at once and LEAVE TOWN” deal. Do I get a horse and a cowboy hat? “Ah’ll be seein’ ya, pardners.”

Riding the ferry back from Victoria.

Clearly I was big on the Saturday afternoon westerns when I was a little girl.

Anyhow.

The big day cometh. I’m thinking there likely won’t be a lot of posts once I hit moving day/week, but I’m really looking forward to getting some of my thoughts on moving down on pape– err, down on the screen before I go. Posterity and all.

So, this weekend I’ll find some time for a reflective post.

One third of my life has been spent in this apartment. Somehow I fell into the world’s biggest rut. Whew.

This is the week where I slam the brakes and literally every single thing in my life is changing, except for my day job — but that’s changing in context too, since I won’t be working in offices any more.

I’ll be having dinner Friday night to hash out the plan with my fab friend about how we’re gonna put together my new blog. Like I say, The Cunt shall live and I’ll still be writing this blog. I suspect it’ll be my edgier work more exclusively. Lifestyle writing will go on the new blog.

I can’t wait to get that up and running too. Different writing, all my own photography. A record of the ways my life is changing and the places I’m exploring. Very fun.

It’s great. It’s the era of social media. I’ve got people lined up to meet over on the island, connections introducing me.  I don’t know a soul in Victoria in person, but social media’s opening all the doors.

When I moved to the Yukon in ’94, it took me 3-4 months to make friends. I highly doubt that’ll be the case this time, but I’m not in a rush to get there. First, a month of No Planning, Just Being, which I’m calling my “rat-race detox.”

I can’t wait to flip the tables on my life balance. Work from home. Walk for enjoyment and exploring. Ride buses 2-3 times a month, instead of 2-4 times a day. Be antisocial for the day job, and embrace people after hours. Feel like stopping work and visiting the beach? Sure, I can take an hour or two for that soul-break.

I can confidently tell you now that I’ve been doing EVERYTHING wrong for years. I shouldn’t have still been living in Vancouver. This place started getting too big after 2003, when the Olympics construction began. By 2007, I was losing my joy. After 2010, I lost all my joy. It was just not for me anymore.

Every time I’ve ever vacationed as an adult, it’s been coastal region roadtrips, small towns, remote locations. And I never want to return to the city at the end of the week. Methinks I’m tired of the masses.

Vancouver is an incredible city. World-class. Beeyootiful. But it’s changing too quickly. That nature everyone’s moving here for is getting chewed up by developments. Now it’s one city bleeding into another city, sprawling out with 2.3 million people.

I was born here, man. I grew up with this nature. I remember the quiet, the pristine place/pace. I remember when we were this little hick town no one really knew about.

I never asked for the world to find out about us, and wasn’t thrilled when everyone started moving here. You can’t beat the setting, but the endless crowds of grumpy people and the difficulty of enjoying the nature when it takes me 1.5 hours to bus to some beaches in city limits, etc, have just really made me feel like I don’t even live in Vancouver anymore. I never enjoy the ocean, I’m too tired to get out.

So, that’s all changing.

Leaving town means I take back 60 hours of my month from busing next week.

60 hours! Time’s money — and it’s joy and it’s recharge and it’s awesome. I like Time.

In fact, it’s possible I spend as much as 70-75 hours per month in transit, actually.

I’d like to repurpose that time. I want to do an extra 20 hours of walking, 20 more hours a month working for my bosses, and 20 hours a month writing.

Now that’s some fucking life balance, baby.

So, tonight, the goodbye party ensues, and, I think, it all starts getting Really Real.

I’ll miss stuff. People. But I won’t miss the price I paid for it.

Change is a good thing. Bring on the change.