con·fi·dence
noun
I'd like to have some confidence in myself someday. I mean REAL confidence, not just pretending I feel confident. I'm getting better, there are moments in time that I believe I can do whatever I set my mind to. If I am being honest though, most of the time my belief in myself is dependent on other people's opinion of me. Yes I realize there is no way I'll ever be truly happy if I let other people's opinions matter so much to me.
Today I had an opportunity to decide how I felt about myself. In the moment I was disappointed, sad and just wanted to crawl away, lick my wounds and nurse my injury. Now with ice, ibuprofen and time I am proud of myself. Not shout from the rooftops proud, but that isn't me. I'm never going to be a shout it from the rooftops kind of person. I'm going to be the quiet one standing back, waiting to do what she does before moving on.
This morning was Saturday Morning Sweat. I love that class, I still love that class, even when I am less than graceful. Today was a not so graceful day. I had second thoughts about trying the last move of the warm up. Burpees are fine, a roll then a burpee? Umm...sure I tried it. Right side, not too horrible. Left side. Let's just say that in addition to not being able to stop as quickly as someone with less mass, I should probably have thought more carefully before I decided to land on a joint as delicate as a shoulder with my entire mass.
In plain and simple English: Not only do chunky girls not stop on a dime, they shouldn't land on their shoulder either.
Nothing broken, nothing dislocated, but it feels like I am as badly bruised as I have ever been and trying to lift a carton of milk using my left arm is not happening right now.
After my landing I decided I'd try to hide it, I wanted to get through the workout and make my trainer proud. I didn't want the attention for being a klutz so I bit my lip and tried to soldier through. Yeah...DUMB MOVE. I didn't make it through one of the core exercises before I had more attention than I EVER wanted.
Tyler was kind, but he was FIRM. The goal is not to soldier through injury: it is to speak up and use common sense. I don't think he mentioned the common sense part, I added that. Of course, I don't know exactly what he told me: I was busy trying not to cry and convincing myself the other four people there didn't know what had happened and no one was looking at me.
At the time I was compiling a list of everything I couldn't do during the work out. I couldn't do KB swings with both arms, couldn't do the KB clean and press with my left arm. It really was a short list, but at the time I was convinced I sucked. Really, I couldn't have been so bad: Tyler joined in and worked out with us, he didn't follow me around the studio asking if I was okay every two seconds.
Now with some time and less pain I can see things more clearly. I got in a darn good workout. I still did burpees, I did one arm KB swings, I jumped rope, I did the clean presses with my right arm, overhead squats were possible and I certainly used the rowing machine. It might not have been exactly the workout I planned, but I wasn't a failure.
Maybe confidence for me isn't puffing up my chest and bragging about all I accomplish. It seems that confidence for me is more about recognizing when I do the best I can do and being satisfied with that. Do I want the "atta girls" fist bumps and high fives? I do absolutely, but I also know I need to find that satisfaction inside myself. Until I do anyone and everyone can tell me how well I did and all I'll see is what I didn't do or what I did wrong.
So the journey continues with a brief detour to heal a shoulder and shake out some of those stubborn demons. That's the point though: to do what I need to do to be mentally and physically fit. No one promised it would be easy and it isn't, but it is so worth it.
Right now I think I'll take another dose of ibuprofen, do some shoulder stretches and movement, spend some time icing the poor abused joint and get more sleep. I may not be the most graceful person ever, but I am exactly who I'm supposed to be.
As always thanks for reading!
Today I had an opportunity to decide how I felt about myself. In the moment I was disappointed, sad and just wanted to crawl away, lick my wounds and nurse my injury. Now with ice, ibuprofen and time I am proud of myself. Not shout from the rooftops proud, but that isn't me. I'm never going to be a shout it from the rooftops kind of person. I'm going to be the quiet one standing back, waiting to do what she does before moving on.
This morning was Saturday Morning Sweat. I love that class, I still love that class, even when I am less than graceful. Today was a not so graceful day. I had second thoughts about trying the last move of the warm up. Burpees are fine, a roll then a burpee? Umm...sure I tried it. Right side, not too horrible. Left side. Let's just say that in addition to not being able to stop as quickly as someone with less mass, I should probably have thought more carefully before I decided to land on a joint as delicate as a shoulder with my entire mass.
In plain and simple English: Not only do chunky girls not stop on a dime, they shouldn't land on their shoulder either.
Nothing broken, nothing dislocated, but it feels like I am as badly bruised as I have ever been and trying to lift a carton of milk using my left arm is not happening right now.
After my landing I decided I'd try to hide it, I wanted to get through the workout and make my trainer proud. I didn't want the attention for being a klutz so I bit my lip and tried to soldier through. Yeah...DUMB MOVE. I didn't make it through one of the core exercises before I had more attention than I EVER wanted.
Tyler was kind, but he was FIRM. The goal is not to soldier through injury: it is to speak up and use common sense. I don't think he mentioned the common sense part, I added that. Of course, I don't know exactly what he told me: I was busy trying not to cry and convincing myself the other four people there didn't know what had happened and no one was looking at me.
At the time I was compiling a list of everything I couldn't do during the work out. I couldn't do KB swings with both arms, couldn't do the KB clean and press with my left arm. It really was a short list, but at the time I was convinced I sucked. Really, I couldn't have been so bad: Tyler joined in and worked out with us, he didn't follow me around the studio asking if I was okay every two seconds.
Now with some time and less pain I can see things more clearly. I got in a darn good workout. I still did burpees, I did one arm KB swings, I jumped rope, I did the clean presses with my right arm, overhead squats were possible and I certainly used the rowing machine. It might not have been exactly the workout I planned, but I wasn't a failure.
Maybe confidence for me isn't puffing up my chest and bragging about all I accomplish. It seems that confidence for me is more about recognizing when I do the best I can do and being satisfied with that. Do I want the "atta girls" fist bumps and high fives? I do absolutely, but I also know I need to find that satisfaction inside myself. Until I do anyone and everyone can tell me how well I did and all I'll see is what I didn't do or what I did wrong.
So the journey continues with a brief detour to heal a shoulder and shake out some of those stubborn demons. That's the point though: to do what I need to do to be mentally and physically fit. No one promised it would be easy and it isn't, but it is so worth it.
Right now I think I'll take another dose of ibuprofen, do some shoulder stretches and movement, spend some time icing the poor abused joint and get more sleep. I may not be the most graceful person ever, but I am exactly who I'm supposed to be.
As always thanks for reading!
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