A Picture of Health

I found this book whilst emptying boxes of donated books at the charity project I volunteer with, The Bookery. The cover image is almost terrifying - is that really a 'picture of health'? Jeez!

It caught me. The post Celtic Connections lurgy that's been making it's way around work finally caught me. I am impressed that I lasted this long, but not surprised to have finally succumbed. I have a terrible, almost non existent immune system. I do what I can to support it but eating healthily and try to look after myself, but it's not quite the same.

In the past, when I was a full on vegetarian, I would have friends and family comment on the condition of my health, my skin, my mood etc and blame it all on my diet. Not only was that infuriating, but also completely unfounded. For the past 5(ish) years I have included a variety of meats into my diet, and the only difference was that I put on a lot of weight. A lot. Which doesn't help your mood, your health and my goodness those spots I mostly avoided as a teenager had more than made up for lost time.

For me, I believe there is a clear link between health and happiness. When I am stressed, or depressed, my body throws a massive diva strop. Nose bleeds, migraines, tonsillitis, loss of appetite, I could go on. Despite all this, when I was at my lowest last year, something inside me knew that I had to work on physically making myself better, and that my mental health would either follow, or seem more manageable. My exercise regime was non existent, my diet was shameful, my sleep pattern non existent and my mind was a riot.

One day I went to the gym and signed up. I hadn't thought it through and almost in tears wondering what the heck I was doing there. It was all so alien and intimidating. But I had signed myself up and being the type of people who can't break a commitment, I couldn't let anyone* down. I didn't even own trainers. It was an expensive decision but 6 months later, it's not one I regret. I haven't shifted much weight yet, and I still have the grace of an arctic lorry, but keeping my body busy is having some effect on my mind, even if I'm not sure what it is.

I have my first 10k race coming up in May, again something I signed up to without much prior thought, so the commitment klaxon in my head blares again and I am currently training, determined to see it through. For whose benefit? I don't even know, I'm just to guilty/stubborn to not do it.

I'm missing training tonight, something which is causing me great distress. Although I am infected and on antibiotics, I am annoyed with myself for missing this. The irrational "letting everyone* down" voice bellows, and I worry that fatty little me will never catch up and fall behind. A friend informed me that you're not meant to do cardio whilst on antibiotics as it can impact on your heart. Whilst I accept this advice from a dear and trusted source, I still feel terrible inside. It possibly has something to do with missing so much school and youth due to ill health. And being off work with depression for long periods of time itself takes some getting over. I have been back for over 3 months now and still feel like I owe someone* something* for those missing months.

I did discover Mindfulness towards the end of last year, although from this blog entry, you wouldn't have guessed. That's another commitment battle for another entry. However, it's fundamental themes remind me that I do need to remember to be kind to myself, and that I need to listen to my body. I think I'd best stick the kettle on. A cup of tea cures everything. Almost.



* This refers to no one in particular and I am not even sure it clearly describes what I mean. Perhaps it is myself I refer to. It just seems bigger and more general than that. I rarely compare myself to others or care too much about what others think of me. When I made these decisions, I didn't even tell anyone, yet felt this odd, overwhelming feeling of guilt or pressure, I'm not even sure that's what I actually would call it.