Freudian slip-thoughts

(It kind of makes me think of slipcovers and slip dresses…slip-thoughts)

Do you ever notice yourself making a sort of Freudian slip in your mind?

I know we have them all over the place in our spoken, verbal language, but what about before the spoken part, before the words leave our lips… does it still count then?

Today, while driving to check on my friend’s lovely cat, I was considering a piece of a conversation I’d just had, one which has repeated often recently.

I live in a yoga studio.

When people discover this, they often ask if I do yoga there just all the time.

The answer, of course, is, “No.”

Why would my life be so predictable?… we know me well enough to know things are never quite so simple in my life.

Anyway, when this happens, I tell people how I actually prefer practicing a different type of yoga – there are certainly aspects of this one that I love and that I love doing, but I don’t love doing the typical class of this type of yoga… it’s just not my style when I’m looking for yoga.

Usually, when I’m looking for yoga, I’m looking for stretchy yoga.

And, if I’m looking for stretch practice or help, I think of stretchy yoga.

So the two ideas, yoga and stretch, usually go together for me.

The yoga where I live is a bit difficult to do, at times, and you never know if you’re walking into a really tough class or an easy one.

They’re great – don’t get me wrong – but a work-out is not what I have in mind when I’m thinking about doing some yoga… I’m thinking about stretching… a lot.

So, anyway, I explained this in the conversation, right?

Right.

Thinking about it in the car, afterward, I ended up pausing to focus on traffic and maneuvering through it with care, and I sort of held my place in the conversation analysis by repeating one particular phrase over and over again.

It became a sort of mantra, as often happens when I need to pause a mental analysis briefly.

I continued repeating it rather passively in my mind, not paying much attention to whatever was going on with the words inside my head, trusting that they’ll spark the right memory, whenever I return focus to them…

After a few blocks of driving, I was able to refocus on my inner dialogue.

… And I couldn’t quite figure out what on Earth I was talking about inside my head… it made no sense to me… what could I have been thinking about that gave me this particular thought.

“I always prefer the super sexy…”

What???

I quickly began to analyze how I could mean such a statement… and I also quickly discovered that such a statement is not really true in any general sense – I don’t usually prefer the super sexy anything … unless it’s men around me… in which case, I suppose I might just prefer the super sexy…

… so that could have been what was going on regarding thought process: I was thinking of having sexy men in my life… except that I wasn’t… it didn’t sound familiar at all…

So that had me thinking about that in the first place, I wonder?… where did sexy men come from?

And then it hit me, how I got to such a phrase.

“I always prefer the super stretchy yoga.”

That’s what I had said aloud earlier, and that is the phrase where I had paused in my mental review of the conversation… the phrase that had been out on repeat…

And so, I suppose my relaxed mind made easy associations and relaxations of words, as I passively repeated my bookmarked phrase, as has happened plenty in the past… “yoga” and the following phrase dropped off the end… “stretchy” turned slowly into “sexy”… and there you have it: I always prefer the super sexy.

It had me wonder: is that a Freudian slip of sorts?… Was my subconscious mind telling me something within my conscious mind?

Why bother with speaking aloud, when the brain can handle the whole thing on the inside, right?

I don’t know.

But it did make me laugh a whole bunch, when I discovered what had happened… I mean, how often does yoga turn into sexy stuff, eh? 😛

Haha

Post-a-day 2019

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A lifestyle, I suppose

Last week, I was talking about how I am suddenly covered in scrapes and bruises…, and that I attribute their origination, though each specific one unknown, generally to CrossFit.

Tonight, my friend, which started with me a few weeks ago, messaged me and the showed me how she is much in the same boat:

I’m literally scuffed and bruised all over.. this is my life now

The coach, after class tonight, said to me, without his knowing about my friend’s message to me, that pain and struggle and small injury are all regular parts of doing these workouts – it’s a lifestyle, he said.

And so, I guess it is…

Tonight was hard… really hard…, and not entirely for physical effort.

The certain muscles that were being used intensely for one part of the workout really, really wiped me out mentally and emotionally – I was balling my eyes out ugly every time I found myself in the midst of that piece of the workout.

The pain and gain and bruises may be part of the lifestyle, but I am very much looking forward to having let go all that is left of this stuff that drags me down emotionally… I want to be wonderfully fit physically, and, in my case, that includes and requires I be wonderfully fit psychologically and emotionally, too.

All of these are parts of this lifestyle I am willing and wanting to follow… bruises and scrapes included (though I imagine they will come in lesser frequency the better I become at all of this stuff!). 😛

Post-a-day 2019

More than just a physical workout

Today was my second day as a member of this CrossFit gym. My friend and I – we signed up together – have schedules that don’t align for workouts today and tomorrow, so we’re going to separate classes on both days, as will be the case going forward, whenever our schedules don’t align (that is, we both must and will go on the same day, at least three days a week, just not always at the same time… sure, there will be times where this doesn’t work out, but it is our strong intention to stick with it as absolutely best as is possible). Therefore, I went to the midday class on my own today. It was hot out, in the eighties, and I was tired… I had helped this same friend put together her new television stand and television last night after our late dinner together after class, and then I had to be up rather early this morning. Plus, of course, I had done the actual workout yesterday evening in the first place, and I was still a bit sore from the test class we’d done on Thursday evening. Altogether, I was hot, tired, and alone on my own. But I was there, and I knew it was exactly where I wanted and needed to be – everything was perfect in this. I was even nervous, because I’m new at it and don’t quite know how things work at least half the time; I’d even said we felt like lost puppies the other evening, as we tried figuring out what was going on in the middle of the class. 😛 Anyway, continuing onward…

So, I’m there on my own. I also happen to be rather un-strong right now – not that I’m weak, but I’m nowhere near as strong as I have been much accustomed to being throughout my life. And I have a good amount of fat on my body that I want to go away. In fact, I have wanted it to go away for years, but it has, instead, increased ever so slowly these past few years or so, with the occasional drop of most of it, and then the returning slow increase. You see, I can’t ever stick with it… I always hit a point where I can’t stand the fat an low fitness level, and so I do something about it. Whenever I hit a certain level of fitness and fat reduction, I always end up stopping… not from exhaustion or annoyance or anything, but from a thought that comes up of, “That’s (good) enough for now,” with a hint of something like fear behind it.

I shall return to this thought after explaining more from the class today (that is, you will figure out its relevance in just a bit).

Pushing through the workout, doing all that I could, my body shaking throughout about half of the workout, due to the struggle, I found myself in almost constant tears. I methodically reassured myself (when I was alone on the running section each time) both inside my head and aloud, that this is perfect that I am here… I can’t do this, and that is why I am here… I am meant to be here… This is perfect… This is exactly where I belong… This is where I need to be right now… This is where I need to be… This is perfect…

Over and over again, I repeated the varying versions of the idea that I was exactly where I needed to be, while acknowledging that it was difficult to do the workout (without degrading in any way), all the while crying.

When I finished the last bit, I stayed lying on the bench for about thirty seconds or so, because the tears were so strong, my body was even convulsing with a few hearty sobs as I rested my arms on top of me in a sort of relaxed hug… I let it out, so I could let it go.

And then I wiped off my tears, got up, and started cleaning up everything that I had used, reminding myself that this is perfect.

I didn’t talk to anyone initially… just the bare minimum of how long it took me, and then nods to say that I was, in fact, okay… avoiding the part where I didn’t know what I even could say, let alone would say, if talking were required.

As I put away the last thing, the bar I had used, the girl (lady) I’d met at the beginning said something to me. I don’t remember if it was a question about the workout, or merely encouragement, but there eventually came a point at which I went ahead and shared a little with her. Taking it slowly, and eventually having the tears start pouring out (but not as badly as they could have been had I not taken it slowly), I told her how a lot was coming up for me in this… My having always been one of the top performers in almost any and every sport I did growing up and as a younger adult, and suddenly being on the other end of it all, I felt like the fat kid – this workout was hard for me in places that things had never before been hard for me… My life direction and style and goals having begun and finally done a sort of plunge into a drastically different direction, terrifying me ever so slightly but intensely… The regular stresses of life, combined with the raccoons and the fleas… and, most importantly and intensely, that I am actually taking on for real getting my body to the physical fitness level and look I so long to have.

This last one may not seem like much, but it is. I told her how I had kind of hit a point of being afraid of being a beautiful female body, and that I started to shy away from the idea, aiming for the less feminine versions of clothing and such. She (appropriately) asked if something happened to me, and (appropriately) acknowledged that it wasn’t that something had to have happened to me – she just wondered if any incident had played a role in that, since it so often does, especially for women.

And, surprisingly, – but also not surprisingly, since I’ve been working on being my true self and being self-expressed truly – I told her that Yeah, I kind of did. It wasn’t exactly the catalyst of it all, – I had already started feeling uncomfortable with being womanly and all. But it did act as a strong encouragement that I was right, and that it is bad to be womanly and sexy. I even shared a bit of details that were relevant, remaining comfortable and confident in myself the whole time.

I recently had a long and tough and beautiful conversation with my best friend about my own incident, and I completed what I needed through that conversation – whatever I needed addressed or said or acknowledge, happened, and my feeling of being trapped by the incident was, after years of avoidance and mental pain and struggle hiding in the back of my mind, finally disappeared… I could see it as something that happened, and was able to talk about it fully at last. I don’t mean each and every detail, of course, but the experience itself and anything that was particularly heavy on me suddenly lost their power and weight in my mind. And my recent efforts to find the kind of exercise I want to do, and then finding the right gym to do it once I’d found the exercise, all came out of this conversation I’d had with my best friend near the end of last year.

And today, all on my own, knowing fully that I am in this at least through September – already paid of through then, essentially – and that I am guaranteed spectacular results by then (especially since it usually only takes about three months to see massive results, anyway, here), was a somewhat terrifying experience and feeling. I’ve spent so long, so many years, convinced to my core that I must avoid these exact results I am not actively seeking. I must not become an object that might be desired sexually… But my recent experiences of wanting to be able (eventually, anyway) to have that experience of not only wanting to desire a man, but of wanting that man to desire me… now those already have been huge, and were formerly unthinkable… but now they actually have a chance to happen one day soon…, and that is so scary to the terrified girl I had grown so accustomed to being inside my head.

But I want this. And I can finally see clearly enough to believe that it truly is okay for me to want it. I want my partner in life to want me in every way, and vice versa…and physically is one of those ways. And I shared this all with her.

And then she shared about her own miserable incident… and how she struggled to get to where she is today – happily married and comfortable with her body and going after amazing fitness, even showing off her body in her workout clothes (not inappropriately at all, but quite flatteringly and tastefully, I dare say) – and that she agrees with me that this is the perfect place for me to be with this. The community is wonderful at this gym – yes, there are physical beasts of men, but not one of them is anything less than a wonderful human being. And, by the way, ‘I didn’t dress like this when I first started coming here,’ she told me, smiling knowingly as I smiled and chuckled in my loose and somewhat baggy t-shirt and shorts. A hint of her midriff was showing, her top was sleeveless, and her shorts were mid-thigh and exercise style snug… it looked great and showed off her muscles modestly, but well.

As we were leaving, she told me that she regularly attends that class, clearly encouraging me to return and to see her as a willing friend of sorts. It felt good. And in a way I’m not sure I’ve known in quite a long time.

Post-a-day 2019