I’m not coming here with any specific post in mind but I just felt the need to type and see what comes out.
I recently joined a roller skating group and have found a new excitement for skating that I never had. Growing up, I was always active and involved in sports. Just like any kid in the 90s, I would leave the house when the sun came up and not come home until the street lights turned on. The feeling of being outside exploring not only gave me the freedom from the abuse at home but it also piqued my curiosity in the world. My childhood best friend and I would walk for hours (literally) in the woods, just making up games along the way. Once, we were even chased by wolves but we didn’t let that stop us.
We went rollerblading to the grocery store, which was easily 5 miles one way. I truly loved being outside doing any activity, not realizing that it was exercise. My dad then found a way to punish me through exercise. I was forced to do military style workouts for telling a lie until my arms and legs gave out.
I didn’t let this stop my love for movement.
When I got older, my love for being active translated to sports. I tried soccer first and it was just okay. Our team won the championship and then I quit.
Soccer just wasn’t it.
Next, I jumped into ice hockey. This is traditionally a very male oriented sport,so of course I was the only female on the team. I was treated differently than the boys and made zero friends. At the end of the season, the parents always took us to the local pizza place to celebrate. I would go and sit solo because I was a girl and no one really understood why I played. They ended up moving me to the goalie position and fuck, that is no joke. You aren’t skating back and forth as much as the other players but that net isn’t easy to defend. The puck is also coming at you at the highest speed possible because they really want the points.
When we would compete against other teams, the other boys would call me names and try to piss me off on the ice. I usually kept my cool but this one kid said something to me and I finally had enough of everyone bullshit. I took my stick (which is wider than the players) and skated as fast as I could and rammed it right in the back of the kid who wouldn’t stop giving me shit.
I got thrown in the penalty box.
In hockey, it’s very rare for the goalie to be put in the box because of the obvious. It leaves your net open. When your goalie gets a penalty, the coach can decide to put another player in the penalty box in the goalies place so your net isn’t left open but they of course didn’t do that for me. They sacrificed me as goalie and left the net unattended. Assholes.
After my second season finished, I quit.
Once I got married and had my first two children, I wanted to get back into shape.
This is when I fell in love with running. I had never enjoyed running before and absolutely hated days we had to run the mile in school. This time, I made the choice to run for me and not for anyone else. I was slow but I kept going. I ran solo and then started running with friends. I found I enjoyed it so much but I really wanted to run with my husband. He had cholinergic urticaria, which basically means his immune system hates him whenever his body temperature rose and he started to sweat. He would break out into these huge hives each time and it was really disheartening. He pushed through and ran with me regardless and eventually, his immune system got the fuck you memo because the hives eventually stopped. He was (and still is) my favorite running partner.
I got pretty serious into running. I even ran 12 half marathons in one year, three of those in one month. I never really wanted to do a full marathon but truly enjoy half’s. I felt so amazing hitting the pavement and I absolutely loved the community.
After a 10 year break, we decided to have two more children. This put a pause on running until my fourth child was about 2 months. We signed up for a 5k and ran with a huge double stroller that made me absolutely dread racing. I was never good pushing that extra weight but my super fucking hero of a husband would push it for me like they weighed nothing.
I’m not sure when I paused running. Maybe I had burnt myself out but I eventually stopped signing up for races and started to just enjoy life. I didn’t realize all of the trauma I was truly exposed to as a child and what difficulties it lead to. At this point, I was still letting my parents walk all over me and accepting their abuse because I couldn’t see past their lies.
Along with the trauma came binge eating and emotional eating. I would spend some days eating just a can of green beans and working out for 2 hours to eating everything I could get my hands on. I would order an insane amount of food at fast food restaurants and let them know I was picking up for a friend. They didn’t care but the excuse made me believe that I wasn’t being judged for being such a fat ass.
Really, I was just living in a never ending cycle of self hatred. I didn’t appreciate my body, my mind or my heart.
I truly felt unlovable and unworthy. My stomach was full but my self worth was empty. I didn’t realize that I was just finding a new way to “punish” myself for something that I had made up.
This lead me to buying a peloton bike. I rode the shit out of that bike and even met 12 of my friends in NYC to ride in person. We had dinner with one of pelotons trainers after a class and everything felt right.
Except it wasn’t.
I had replaced my binge eating with punishing myself with cycling. I would do these things called Pelofondos, where you rode 100 miles in one day. I did this on 4 different occasions and made sure to finish in 6 hours or less. I wouldn’t allow myself proper breaks until I had hit my 100 mile goal.
During a really big swing of depression, I ended up selling my bike. The upside is that it sold to a pregnant woman who was so excited but the downside was made clear when I realized what I had done.
I told my husband what I had done and why and you know what? This man went and bought me the next generation peloton. For a while, it was so nice to be back on the bike but I realized I had lost my love for cycling. I pressured myself to workout to make the $50 monthly fee worth it, not because I enjoyed it. My husband told me to just let the guilt go and just sell it. I was scared sell it because I had such great memories tied to cycling but peloton just wasn’t it anymore. I also sold the last one for the wrong reasons and I didn’t want a repeat mistake. I ended up selling it to a Marine for too cheap but he was so grateful. It’s good to know the bike is getting used.
When I cut my parents off, I knew I needed to start therapy. I was always told how weak therapy was by my parents but I knew going no contact was going to be such a monumental shift in my life. I would definitely need professional help navigating this tough time. I didn’t expect it to be this hard but so worth it.
Discovering how awful my childhood was, getting a c-ptsd diagnosis, having chronic depression and anxiety, lead me to eating my feelings, again.
Recently my husband and I started walking at night and I really look forward to these times together. We get time to talk about anything and everything and the movement feels so good.
I also recently picked up roller skating. I joined a local skating group and we meet at the boardwalk to skate and just enjoy the views and company. I also added at home classes called Naughty Girl, which combine cardio, strength and dance in the best of ways. I also attended a beach yoga session after a skate session, which really sparked something in me. She talked about setting intentions and also being grateful for the ability to move.
She shared how we should love our bodies, no matter what stage we are in.
This really hit me.
I can’t recall a single moment in my life where I actually looked at myself and loved the reflection staring back at me. Even in my best shape, I always found something to dislike. I was never good enough for whatever imaginary standards that I put on myself.
Lately, I’ve discovered that I crave movement. Right now I really fucking enjoy roller skating and walking. I want to get back into running but for the first time, I’m not tearing myself up for not being perfect. Some days are definitely better than others but I’m showing progress. I hope to one day to be able to see myself as my husband does.
I don’t care how long it takes as long as I keep trying.
Each movement I take now is intentional and with purpose. Instead of punishing myself, I move for myself.
Because I deserve it.
I always have.
I hope I continue to find true joy in movement and working on myself.
I hope that I can be easier on myself when the days aren’t the best.
I don’t have a specific goal in mind when it comes to the “end goal”.
I just want to be happy and treat myself kindly.
I’ll skate, run, bike, or walk those negative thoughts away.
This time, they won’t be a punishment.
These movements will be for me and for the right reasons. It may have taken 44 years but at least I’m here.