We're Idiots About Our Health

We're idiots about our health.

I say a collective "we" because, while I recognize not everyone is an idiot, there's enough of us out there that we can take comfort in numbers. And the fact of the matter is that a significantly large portion of us are idiots, mostly especially when it comes to our health.

I was over at xoJane reading random articles (because it's more fun than working and I have no work to do anyway) when I stopped by this articlle on the joys of eating breakfast. Now, I am a firm believer that if I don't have something in my stomach within an hour of waking up, murder or vomit will happen, and the two are not mutually exclusive. But I still remember a time not too long ago when I (like the author of the aforementioned article) wouldn't think of looking at food until I could hold a conversation consisting of more than grunts.

I start work at 5:30am (although not walking in until 6am is frequently the case). My alarm clock goes off at 4:30am, and I am in the shower before 5. This is not by choice, it's the nature of my job. It is a completely unreasonable time to expect much of anything from your body. Today I am wearing socks that don't match. My underwear are frequently on inside out. I comunicate only via grunts and hand gestures until around 7, when my faculties catch up with my semi-conscious mind. So if you were to say to me, "Breakfast in the morning is a hassle, I'd rather get up and go"... trust me when I say, I understand. Completely.

It's a standing joke in our house that I will put the milk on the shelf and the cereal in the fridge. Or leave everything on the counter to spoil. Or put in bread to toast and then leave the house without it. I once tried to make egg sandwhiches in the morning, but I kept leaving the stove on so that idea had to be scrapped. These days I stick to cereal being the easiest and almost foolproof in it's simplicity. And if my hubby finds the cheerios in the fridge and the milk souring on the shelf... well, he loves me enough not to hold it against me and my sleep deprived brain.

Cause here's the thing: If I don't eat something in the morning, I am useless for the rest of the day. I've been doing these awful hours on and off for 8 years now, and it used to be that I couldn't look at food until at least two hours and one coffee later. But I would crash, hard, as soon as the coffee wore off. And then the rest of the day was a painful, uphill climb trying to stay awake and be productive. Usually, I failed, and would tumble back down the hill at around noon only to spend the rest of my day laying at the bottom having a nap.

My mum (bless her heart) always had the simplest explanations as to why I was so exhausted all the time. "Sleep more" was her answer. I would scoff. If I complained about feeling ill, "Don't eat an entire bag of chips" was her quick reply. And heaven forbid I said I was bored and listless. "Get off your bum and go take the dog for a walk". The idea that appropriately healthy habits could be the cure for all my ailments was absurd. It was far too mundane to be true. I must have mono. Or a bowel obstruction. Or a brain tumour.

And it pains me - kills me - these many years later to have to admit that she was right. When my old therapist suggested that exercise would naturally increase my endorphins and help me manage my anxiety, I guffawed. But while I'm on a roll admitting past mistakes, let's add this one to the list too. She was also right. It hasn't been a cure-all, but exercise has helped me better manage my stress and lord help me actually turned into something fun, something I look forward to.

I'll say again, none of it has been a cure-all. Nothing ever is. But after years of crappy eating habits and no exercise habits to speak of, and the myriad of associated health problems that cropped up because of it, I think I can say with confidence: We're idiots when it comes to our health. Because I still know so many people who don't eat breakfast, or get off their tooshes for so much as a walk. And I'm lumping myself into the idiot pile because given the slightest provocation, I will still devour a bowl of popcorn for breakfast (buttery, none of this low-fat nonesense) and spend the entire day watching re-runs of Star Trek. But at least now I recognize why at the end of the day I feel so horribly bleh.

My health habits are improving, with much more room for improvement to go. I'm at least exercising on a semi regular basis, more than I ever have in my life. My sleep habits are shit, and that's my biggest struggle. But when one of my friends complains about how exhausted and fatigued they are, my first thought is now my mother's voice saying, "Take better care of yourself, you goof."

What the hell happened to the past year?

I was just getting ready for bed and poking around on the internet (which eats up my time like a freaking hungry hungry hippo) when I realized that I carved out this little corner of the interwebs a year ago.

Technically I missed my blog's birthday, which was in October, but better late than never. Maybe I'll wax more poetic tomorrow, when I haven't been awake for a million years (I woke up how many hours ago? 20?!)

Happy Birthday, Little Blog!

My Soul Sings

Driving with the hubby, Mumford & Sons comes on the radio.

We turn it up until the car shakes. I sing so loud my voice cracks while he pounds the steering wheel like drums.

This music makes my soul happy.

Get your comraderie out of my face - Pt 2

I am the queen of avoidance.


I've already talked about the hows and whys of ducking your coworkers. Or rather specifically one of the reasons I duck mine. This frustrating office ticket selling lady. I said I had a couple of problems with it, and one of them is the rearing, ugly head of my anxiety. Which, admittedly, is a fairly large problem when I'm inside my own head.

There is, however, another larger issue - an insidious problem, lurking below the surface.

I have little to no desire to participate in office shenanigans. Don't get me wrong, I have no major problems with my coworkers. Yes, they annoy me from time to time, but on the whole this is a group of decent people. However, there is a culture of forced office camaraderie that I take major issue with - and whether this is a government thing or an office thing, I can't say. I suspect it's an office thing.

Every year there is a Charitable Donation campaign, where there is a tremendous amount of environmental pressure exerted to get the whole department to work as a team to beat last year's donations, or other divisions' donations. I couldn't give two shits if we beat some arbitrarily set goal. And this is aside from the fact that I don't support or agree with the charity they push, and resent being guilted and harassed into donating or made to feel like a pariah for abstaining. [Author's Note: I donate on my own time to a charity I support. I'm not against raising money for needy causes, I simply take issue with the sense of being forced into it.]

My biggest source of resentment and anxiety is the yearly retreat. Now, I know that this office is not the only one that holds similar gatherings. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I'll admit I've never gone - a combination of being on contract for so long, and bad timing. Last year was the first time I was around for it and a full time employee considered worthy enough to include.

But I didn't want to go.

I already spend a third of my time in this office, with these people. Good people though they may be, I would like to choose the time and place for my social gatherings. There have been several that I've attended - drinks after work, someone throwing a dinner party - that I've enjoyed immensely. Thrown by a group of individuals who have honestly become friends due to their own merit, not solely because they happen to share an office wall. Even in these low key gathering I tend to feel a bit out of place, with my psychology background and gigantic age gap (I'm the youngest person on this floor, by several years, and one of the few without a political or economics background. Why on earth am I working here...)

Yet, when you remove the common denominator of work, they are still good people.

This forced retreat, however, grates on my nerves like knuckles on a cheese grater. Contemplating being forced into a conference hall with dozens of other people, most of whom are almost total strangers to me, most of whom I would never have a real conversation with, to smile and participate in team building exercises for the next 6 hours... If there is a hell, this would be mine.

You cannot force friendship. You cannot force a sense of family, or of trust, or of loyalty. Those things, those ethereal filaments that bind a group of people together in an unspoken sense of teamwork - it cannot be forced. Most certainly not over a 6 hour period of arts and crafts and speeches.

I duck the corporate retreat the way I duck the ticket lady. With subtle maneuvering and not a little bit of lying. My overwhelming urge in both these cases, however, remains to same.

I'd love to be able to say firmly: "Get your comraderie out of my face". Then I'd close my door, and get back to work.