Normally I worry that I worry too much. But this last week turned that on its head. We had two new diagnoses for two different children in the space of 24 hours: which is itself unsettling. But when two paediatric consultants - seeing different children - turn to you in the space of 24 hours and say in hushed tones "How do you cope?" you start to think, oh dear. Perhaps I am not worried enough.
The gym took a hit - actually, everything took a hit except nice fattening things like wine, white bread with peanut butter, chocolate and more wine. I did my best, honest I did, there were definitely times when I thought "I want cake NOW!" and heroically said to myself "No." But today I hopped on the scales and sighed. Oh DEAR. That's the problem with weight loss and exercise and all this healthy living malarkey, it all goes really well until something interesting or tiring or upsetting happens, or you have something else to do with your time, or you get sick or your children have a holiday or your children get sick or you get a new hobby or job. Apart from that, it's really straightforward. I did go to the gym yesterday, and it was kind of all right, except that I couldn't lose myself in the exercise the way I usually did. Random thoughts kept attacking me on the treadmill: scary monster-thoughts like
"This is really hard I want to stop. Oh my god it's like parenting except that I can't stop that even if I want to!"
"I don't know if I'm going to finish this exercise. That feels like the next fifteen years of my life. It doesn't matter how determined I am, just sometimes you run out of energy and can't do it any more. Now my legs are leaden, just like my heart."
Yes, I wallowed in self-pity and sweat. Wondering why I wasn't just at home wallowing in wine.
I did all right, yesterday, in the sense that I didn't run out of the gym screaming, I did a moderate amount of exercise and set my heart racing faster than the trainer thought it should (but then that was probably due to panic about the diagnoses, not the exercise itself). But I did feel as if I was fighting a cloud of worry, or rather a curtain of doubts: I could push through it, and keep going, but after a while another one came along. And I couldn't use my normal trick of eating-or-drinking-tea to drive away the worry, because I was on the treadmill or the elliptical trainer. So there I was, with my thumping heart and my panicky thoughts. Not much fun. It was hard not to feel that I'd have had more fun at home with the peanut butter and the wine.
Frankly, it was fear alone of the rising scales that sent me along again today. But as I hopped into the pool I realised that it was incredibly crowded, and that any chance of finding peace-and-tranquillity in the medium lane was doomed. There was no slow lane so elderly ladies waved themselves along on their back. I looked at the fast lane, and quailed at the muscle-bound racers preening themselves and drinking out of the sports bottles. Then I saw an aqua-aerobics class, just setting up. Oh well, I might as well, I thought. Otherwise I'll just go home and drink wine.
Now, I have always poured scorn on aqua-aerobics. I like swimming in the water, not jumping up and down. And it is fat old ladies waving noddles around. But you know what? Tonight, it was EXACTLY what I needed. I had to follow the instructions of the class trainer and concentrate on not moving my legs in the wrong direction. Which left no time for worries about parenting or children or whether I was going to finish the exercise. And - of course - aqua-aerobics is not as exhausting as the other classes, which meant I ended up feeling quite fit. In comparison to the other fat old ladies, of course.
Slowly it is starting to dawn on me that what I need is an array of fitness activities that I like, so that I can pick the one I am in the mood to manage. A nice easy gentle fitness class was just the ticket. Took the edge off my emotional pain, rather like a paracetemol. I'm still not sure if I'm too worried or not worried enough, but for tonight it doesn't really matter. I feel calmer. Now, where's the wine?
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