Kat Atwell is a freelance writer, blogger & stage presence telling stories that deliver laughs, validation & community.

Mental Health | Wellness & Self Image | Experiential & Reviews

It's a marathon, not a sprint.

It's been a manic day.

While I do wish my manic moments involved a ton of physical movement, alas, they don't. It's a manic brain day.

I woke up this morning with the intention of reinventing my lifestyle. Grandiose? Yes. But, I don't know how else to put it. My pants have gotten tight. I haven't been making conscientious choices about the foods I've been eating. The yoga classes I fell in love with fell by the wayside. So, today was the day to begin. I downloaded a food journal app to my phone, actually prepared food for the office, drank water, took stairs, ad nauseum.

Oh! And I weighed myself. Oog.

I also saw my psychologist mid-day. I was talking to him about the changes I'm making, and (as per usual) he reminded me to take things slowly and be mindful. I was beating myself up for letting myself go, and he made a really poignant remark: It's hard to take care of something you hate, so the first step is to quit hating. It sounds so easy, but...man.

If I'm being honest, I do hate a lot about my body. I hate my gut the most. Coming in a close second would be the butt/thigh area. I have big, meaty upper arms. My rings are tight on my fingers right now. And my chin. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a defined chin - and cheekbones, since I'm being specific. I don't want to buy XL, or 1X. I don't want to wear size 14-16 clothes. I know I'm supposed to be all body-positive and whatnot, but man. It's hard to love when you're the one wearing the weight.

I'm not sure how to turn my brain around to love me. I need to take care of me, I get that. I need to thank myself for nourishment, and healthy choices. I need to love when I eat anything, really - it's a matter of mindfulness again.

There were all kinds of other things I did today that I should give myself credit for doing. I emailed my daughter's teacher about the wildly vague progress report she sent home, asking for specific ideas for how we can encourage learning at home. I agreed to do something called a Warrior Dash this summer, and something else called a Color Run in June - that's in addition to the two other 5Ks already on my calendar for this year. I called two different psychiatrists, thus beginning my determined quest to leave my current psychiatrist behind. When we got home from work, I cleaned the house for thirty minutes. I drank water. Hell, I got on here to journal.

In my brain, though, I'm insisting I do more. I want to get a battery for my pedometer. I want to get mason jars to start using for breakfasts and lunches. I want to put the green lentil curry together in the crockpot, and assemble my avocado and kale salad to take to work tomorrow. I want to hit Pinterest for ideas on healthy desserts. I want to put away laundry.

This has been my brain ALL DAY. My body isn't tired, but my brain ... nope, my brain isn't tired, either. I'm anxious.

I know this is when I need to take a break. Breathe. I got a lot done today. If I make the curry and throw it in the slow cooker and do my salad, I should call it a day. My husband is running out to the grocery store, so he can handle the battery and jars.

I recognize that I'm mentally preparing for the (not accurate) anticipation of failure. One day at a time. There's no way to fail that.  I think there's a quote somewhere, or else I heard it at church, that says, "This moment contains all moments." It's a good reminder.


Blissfully ignorant.

When you fall off, you stand up and get back on.