Where Do I Go Now?

Ending 2020 felt like running a marathon that you have not trained for and were forced to finish. I trudged that final .2 miles, and I just wanted to collapse. Even though it may be arbitrary, I woke up on January 1st, 2021, and I felt lost. This tremendous mountain of a year that shook every part of our society had wholly disconnected me from so much, has also been a forced point of introspection. About our community, about what we owe to one another, about how I can force myself into a more positive place even when it all feels hopeless. I felt this idea acutely around my wellness routines. For the past few years, I’ve been on the perpetual diet cycle, the continuous millennial workout classes, and this year stopped all of that.

For so long, I’ve treated exercise like a part of an equation. If you run x miles, you lose y pounds. If you use the elliptical for x minutes, you can eat y calories. I only viewed movement as transactional. Right before the pandemic, I felt like I was on the verge of achieving a years-long battle; I was finally enjoying exercise and losing weight. The long-fought battle between me and my body was at a tipping point. Then yoga studio closed. Lockdown world began, and over the first few weeks, the videos changed. Workouts were cutting shorter and shorter. Instead of focusing on my downward dog, I noticed how long it had been since I had vacuumed my floor.

Weight returned, and my shame spiral began. Once again, I felt like I had let myself down. I want to say that something magical happened, that one day I had this perfect moment of clarity. With a bubblegum theme song playing in the background, that I decided to restructure my thoughts around movement while dressed in some fabulous outfit, but no. I just started to be nicer to myself. The world watched Tiger King and descended into chaos, and one day I just couldn’t stand all the mean things that were running through my head. I decided that the world could be menacing, but my inner world would be different. It could even be hopeful or joyous in the dark. And to be joyous, I needed to find the joys. I started journaling again, writing every day. I began to keep a list of things that bring me joy. I started looking for the small sustaining joys of everyday life. The little parts of every day I am grateful for - a steaming cup of coffee on a peaceful morning, cutting that perfect slice of onion, a television show that cocoons you into its world.

I’ve done the diets and the fasting, however intermittent. I’ve run half marathons and worked out for months on end only to watch my mental health remain the same and the scale unchanged. And after a year, when I laid awake for weeks trying to muster the energy to move. A year my foundation was fundamentally cracked, and my routines shattered. My reserves were depleted. I think I needed to learn how to fill up my tank again. I think I needed to learn how to rest and focus on my mental wellbeing.

At the end of the summer, I rolled out my yoga mat and began stretching again. Creaking in new places and much less flexible than when I had stopped in April, I didn’t beat myself up over being more wobbly and less flexible. I just kept breathing. I pushed myself to walk more, challenged my dog and me to walk our city a bit more while it’s still empty. I started moving because I wanted to, not because of the outcomes. I forgot about the equation in my head.

I wish I had something profound to say about wellness, something about how exercise and meditation because my anchor during this turbulent time. But it wasn’t. For the most part, I spent the year, like most people, in an almost constant state of anxiety. I stopped sleeping, and the idea of wellness became like one of my summer dresses. Unused. Dusty. Meant for another version of myself. Once the shock of the pandemic wore off, or instead, once I adjusted to the new normal of our narrowed worlds, I think I just wanted something to feel good about. And being kind to myself in a new yoga posture or walking the full 2-mile loop with my dog not only gave me an activity to do but also actually made me feel better. Focusing on things like meditation and journaling allowed me to pause and focus on my inner world and rest when I needed to.

I woke up feeling lost on the first day of this year, and I began my morning Instagram scroll when I came across a yoga influencer talking about her New Years Day tradition - 108 sun salutations to start the year. I scoffed as I have in years past. Usually, I am nursing a raging hangover so beginning the year with exercise seemed insane. And then I saw another yoga personality post about their 108 challenge, and then another. And I thought to myself that I could either join in or judge, and I’m tired of being the second person. I took it slow, and throughout the 108 coordinated, sometimes uncoordinated movements, I fell into a rhythm. I left myself try something hard, and I completed it. I was so proud of myself by the end of the day. Not because all of the movements looked great, because they didn’t, but because no matter how hard the last upward facing dog was, I always did the next one. No matter how much I wanted to quit, I took a breath and kept moving. I put one foot in front of the other, and I didn’t feel so lost in all the noise.

I hope that 2021 brings me balance — an ability to balance my excitement over finding a new activity without burning myself out of it. I want to let myself rest when I need to and then get back out there. I want to create healthy routines for myself. I want to learn how to enjoy healthy food, find fresh ingredients and cook as much as possible. To learn how to set boundaries, and differentiate meeting my needs and pushing people away. I want to be there for my friends. I want to allow myself to be drawn into new experiences, because I want them, and to let myself enjoy them!

I want to be more understanding when things are unbalanced. To laugh when I fall. I want to let myself feel a little more hopeful. I want to offer even the smallest of kindnesses when I can because I know how those moments can buoy me when I’m feeling down. I want to listen more, really hear people for what they are saying behind the words. I’d like the past year to mean something, even if it means that I can experience hard things and keep going.