That Bullshit, Non-Existent, Right Time

Come on Sloan, get your shit together. 

I’ve avoided wordpress for some time now. I haven’t completely avoided writing, or speaking, or life, I’ve just avoided this particular site due to wanting to do it right. You would think that I’d have learned by now, there is no RIGHT way to do things. Things aren’t just going to happen, We have to work for them. And right never really comes. If we can do something perfectly the first time, why bother?

I worked hard on a couple essays last month and actually read them. In front of people. Those hours I spent in front of the screen prove that work pays off, I didn’t wait to work, I just did it. We get applause and encouragement when we make that effort and not only that, we get results.

Right now I’ve started back in school. I did school once, graduated with a BA, learned some stuff, had a few jobs, learned what I DON’T want. This school is not traditional school, not at a college or university. I’m spending the next six months (minus 2 weeks) in the basement of a big office building, in the gym. These past two weeks I have learned what the Rectus Abdominus is, and what a joint action is and which direction they go with what movement.

I finally pulled the trigger to learn how to be a personal trainer. I have wanted to do this for close to eight years. When I look back at myself eight years ago I was in college, I was running 30 miles a week, I looked fit and healthy. Probably weighed a few dozen pounds less than I do now. Why didn’t I do it then? Fear, lack of confidence and knowing I wasn’t practicing what I would be preaching…

Why am I doing it now??! Not because I had an epiphany, not because the time is right. my life has never really lacked direction–it’s always pointed me in the ways of: Writing, Travel, Fitness, Education, a direction I just didn’t really know how to harness. A direction that I lacked confidence in.

I’m not skinny. I USED to be, I USED to be REALLY skinny. Well, kinda too skinny thinking back. So skinny that I was proud of myself on days that I was under my allotted 900 calorie goal. PROUD of starvation. Gross. I knew I was doing it wrong but I got results, as a former fat-girl every pound lost was a victory. This was not the mentality of a successful trainer and I knew that. So I held off.

As years and pounds added up I wanted to wait until it was the ‘right time’. When I could fit back into those smaller jeans, when I could run a faster mile, and like the reflection a bitmore–those goals haven’t happened and I finally decided that I was sick of waiting for that bullshit, non-existent, right time. The time is now.

I’m not skinny, but I’m healthy. I’m healthy and excited about making other people healthy and excited. Honestly, my body confidence is low right now, but in the past two weeks I’m learning, I’m studying, I took a test today and I think (I HOPE) I did well. I’m going through a program that is going to boost my knowledge and by having that knowledge I can only imagine that my confidence will grow.

What’s held you back? What propelled you forward when you knew you needed to make that move? Where are you now?

Disconnection vs. Investment

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Where have the last two months gone? What have I been doing. What have YOU been doing? Winter has finally, hopefully, left us, and were on our path to Spring time. My birthday (in January) came and went, Valentine’s Day smacked us in the face, we sprung our clocks forward and now March Maddness status updates are taking over my Facebook feed and I don’t understand any of them. But now to personify a couple words that have been huge influencers in my life.

Disconnection is something one feels when they hit the road after 10 months of ‘living’ somewhere. Investing in a community is not priority, friendships don’t seem as sincere because there is no depth to them. A bedroom doesn’t develop personality and warmth after just a few months. Disconnection is a hard state to live in and a super easy state to leave.
Where do you lean towards? Where do you road trip to and have a hard time leaving? Is Disconnection a place that’s on your map marked with a star? Disconnection used to be my only home, I had a house on wheels and a backpack full of books, a journal and a tooth brush. Disconnection and I… we flourished together, knowing that happiness was just one stop away, one more plane ride, one more move, one more man in my bed, drinking buddy at the local pub or a cute coffee shop to waste my day in. Happiness, she was coming, she had to be around the corner somewhere, right? Disconnection promised me happiness elsewhere and I believed her every step of the way.

This is what I thought until I met Investment. Investment is a sneaky little bitch that crawls out of hole somewhere, trips you and makes you stop looking towards the horizon and just see the sunset. She and I together freak each other out. She’s not good at hanging out with curly haired, independent ladies that love an adventure away from where she is. She doesn’t move quite as fast as I’m used to but we’ve become friends so I’ve learned to slow down for her, to take a little more time and think a bit more about each move, each choice I’m making.

Investment has encouraged me to sign up for a certification program. She’s helped me find ways to read the words I write to an audience. She’s taken my heart and began giving it to another person so I can’t just leave even if I thought I wanted to. Investment knows me and knows that I can’t end my relationship with Disconnection but she knows that right now we’re not a good fit. Right now I’m starting a garden for the summer and I’m planning trips to far away states and I’m becoming a regular at my favorite coffee shop. She knows that I wonder about my lease ending in August and respects the fleeting thoughts of mountain paths and crashing oceans but understands that now we’re friends I’m sticking around for a while.

As much as my heart wants to fly away I am here. I am present and I am navigating this new friendship with an open mind and adventurous soul.

Seat Buddy

I met a kind soul on my flight back from Denver yesterday. He introduced himself at 5:35am as “your seat buddy,” then later as Greg. His scraggly hair peaked out from under his flat billed skater hat, acne speckled his chin and he sipped a McDonald’s smoothie while he offered to hold my soy latte as I got situated in the dreaded middle seat on Spirit airlines flight.
We shared stories about our trips to Colorado as the flight attendants reminded us how to buckle our safety belts and where the exits are in case of emergency. I learned that Greg has dreams of bridging the gap of those awkward computer geek type and the saavy businessmen, “I’m good with both,” he says, “I want to do IT but bring my social skills to the game.” While telling me this he devoirs an Egg McMuffin. He asks why I was in Denver, what I do in Chicago–he was fascinated by my stories of travel and how I’ve ended up where I am now. He listen intently until the person across the aisle sneezes, “bless you,” he says with out missing a beat then continues asking me questions and answering mine.
As our bodies remember that we had to wake up at 4am to make the six o’clock flight our conversation wanes. The captain announces that we’ve reached 35,000 feet and Greg offers me a headphone with softly playing music pumping through–the band reminds me of high school. A band I’ve literally listened to for a decade and a half. We both nod in and out of sleep for an hour and wake to notice the sunrise happening above the clouds near the heavens.
We chat more, about the music, about the sunrise, about how I’m turning 28 next week and how he hates living the in the suburbs–he shares that he knows he needs to finish school and stay home to help his mother who has fallen ill in the last year.
As the plane lands we acknowledge we survived. “I never get this tight with people on an airplane. It was a pleasure meeting you Sloan.” He hands me his cell phone to put my number in to “Ya know, grab a drink in the city sometime.”
“For sure,” I say as I hand him back the phone.