Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Stressed Spelled Backwards Is...

I stood in front of a vending machine last night at Sac State, half an hour before choir rehearsal, eying the peanut butter cups and the chips and the pretzels and every other piece of sugary, salty goodness offered therein and muttered five words to myself under my breath:

"Do NOT eat your stress."

Five years ago, in Antioch, when the high school kids got me down or the parents were on my back to give little Lola a better grade even though she was absolutely refusing to be a human being in my advanced choir class, I would stop at Safeway on the way home and buy a box of Kraft Mac & Cheese. Maybe one of those little double-serving cakes in the bakery. Hey, I deserved a little comfort food after such a bad day! I drank more Bailey's in those two years in Antioch than I care to admit.

I knew, of course, that this was supremely unhealthy and only contributing to my high blood pressure and weight problems. But life was so stressful sometimes, and it just felt easier to comfort myself with food instead of with a workout.

Obviously, things have changed since then, specifically in the last three years. I have learned better coping skills and I manage my stress far more healthily than I used to...but that urge to feed my inner demons has never really gone away. I don't think it ever will. I allow some treats in my life, especially when they're simply a treat--not a balm for a bad day. I love my dark chocolate, and when I eat it, I savor it (it's especially lovely with a hot cup of tea).

I'm proud to say that last night, I made the healthy decision. I walked away from the vending machine, clutching my protein smoothie in one hand and promising myself I'd feel better in the long run for skipping the junk food.

Big changes are happening in my life--if last night's "Vent Ahead" post didn't clue you in, I'm coming to terms with a career change. I'm leaving something I love--teaching--due to a horrible economy, and moving into something I never really had any interest in doing--selling insurance. I'm not happy about it, but I'm doing it, because unemployment doesn't last forever and I have bills to pay and a life to live. Right now, the coursework for passing the state insurance licensing exam is causing a lot of angst, and I can't wait for that part of things to be over in two weeks.

I figure I'll give it six months, and if I'm miserable, I'll do some substitute teaching and retail work. Maybe I'll actually be good at it. Who knows? Just get me through this stupid exam.

Today, I came home from a training group feeling overwhelmed and very near a panic attack. I knew, the minute I got home, that I had to do something good for my body before proceeding with anything else. I put my running gear on and told Mom, "I just need to run." And so I did.

What do you know? I ran a sub-10-minute mile for the second time in my life. The first time was in July 2010. That time, it was hard, but today felt easy. I was breathing hard and sweating, but I also felt a little like I was flying. When I reached my stopping point, I looked at the stopwatch on my iPod--I'd made it 1.04 miles in 10:03! The nearby houses may have been surprised by my surprised yelp, and the odd sight of a short brunette in a red shirt walking along the pathway with her arms in a V-for-victory. I just couldn't help myself...despite my stress, despite being tired, I went out there and owned that run. And when I got home, I had a smoothie, not junk food.

So many small victories--saying "no" to the vending machine, running that mile today. They all add up...and they all feel huge.

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