And Taking Names

I just got home from a six mile bike ride, my furthest yet. And I am exhausted. So here's some lazy stream of consciousness. This is always fun.

I've been alternately super-healthy-raw-foodie girl and junk-carb-binger-lady, often within minutes of each other. I don't know if it's pain, side effects from the drugs, or just my desperation and frustration at being trapped inside the house for days at a time during that last heat wave, but I am having serious problems regulating my portion sizes and frequency of meals. The other day, I kept eating something I wasn't even enjoying, despite a full and unhappy stomach. I could hardly stop myself. It doesn't help that I've always had a loaded relationship with food. I really hate when I have problems that feel entirely of my own making.

My laptop died, so our internet was down for a few days while my boyfriend cobbled together a desktop for me. This left me naked without my usual bevy of distractions. I kept myself sane by reading, sewing, crocheting, cleaning, cooking and just a smidge of anxious wall staring to fill the time during which I would normally be sucked into the internet. I felt like a pioneer girl. It was character building.

My head's been pretty relentless, though, which has been inhibiting any sunshiney ventures. There has been very little bike riding, besides my triumphant comeback today. BUT, I have managed to have my first moving collision. Ruts are tricky.

I think the Vitamin D has improved my energy levels. Even when I felt well enough, head wise, to do stuff before, it was always a huge struggle. I was so tired all the time that before I'd even get out the door I'd be wiped from just the prep of leaving. But since getting my weekly high-dose (50,000 iu!) I've been leaving the house consistently, if just for a walk up and down the street. And that has worked wonders for my mental health. I feel less trapped, scared, and helpless when I can participate in grocery shopping. And i tell you, mopping the floors feels like the greatest accomplishment ever when you haven't done it in weeks.

In fact, I am so proud of myself every time I accomplish something I haven't in a while, I've taken to calling myself an asskicker. As in:

I'm riding my bike in figure eights, almost perfectly keeping to the same path. I am not falling over. I crow, "(Boyfriend) look at meeee! I'm an asskicker!"

Or:

Boyfriend walks in the kitchen, is blinded by the unusually clean and shiny surfaces. He comments on the difference and I grin, "I know. I'm such an asskicker."

Or today, there was a hill. And it was hard. Actually, it was a little too hard, so I need to wrap this up and ice my dome, but at the top of the hill, I couldn't stop myself, I yelled to my boyfriend, "Did you see me kicking ass?? I am such a freaking asskicker!"


I have no idea whose ass I'm kicking (maybe my own?) or why that phrase even came into my head, but it makes me feel good to say it.

Asskicker.

Say it.