Exercise and injury

I missed another day. A friend came over and we talked through the night. I’m tired.

We spoke about exercise, mostly because I’ve committed to doing more of it and she wants to do the same. We’re in the same situation, battling against injury and sickness to get closer to good health, and it’s not like either of us has enough time or money to get better.

That’s something that the Instagram fitness chicks won’t tell you. Everyone assumes that we’re all starting from a similar baseline of sedentary behavior, easily rectified by cardio and crunches. The truth is that there are far more people out there who, through age, genetics or just plain bad luck, can’t do many simple exercises without hurting themselves further. The people who are so quickly judged for being fat, as if fatness is a moral failing and not the result of complex biological interactions between DNA, environment, mental health, physical health, and other factors, likely don’t start at that baseline, but somewhere far beneath it.

My friend has injured her back and knees, and she has kidney problems that means she will be on medication for the rest of her life. She used to be very slim, but having a child (and nearly dying in the process) has ruined her metabolism. She is still somewhat thinner than me,┬ábut that’s not unexpected seeing as my frame is much bigger than hers.

I have joint problems. One of my elbows is very weak, and my knees and ankles are so-so. I’m just unlucky; I’ve had a lot of bad sprains, and possibly dislocated my elbow. I’ve lost flexibility. But I’m trying, because I have to, and I have a few people I trust who show me how to do exercises that won’t hurt me further. I must work out to build strength, and to make sure I don’t lose whatever flexibility I have left.

Not much consolation when my elbow pops and hurts again, but it’s better than it was. When I sprained it, I started to lose feeling in two of my fingers.

Apart from the muscle soreness the next day, I’m doing alright. I write, I exercise, I stretch (because you need to stretch so you won’t be too sore), and hopefully I blog. It’s an ongoing process.

If you’re like me, then don’t lose hope, and don’t blame yourself for things outside your control. Don’t beat yourself up for not being capable of doing exercise, or of attaining perfect health. Don’t fall into the trap of self-hating fatness, and think more about doing what you know to be good for your body.

‘Tis better to be fat, content, and as healthy as you can be, rather than destroy your own mind and body in pursuit of thin-ness and health outside of your reach.


An update of sorts

I have been writing! On my phone!

The novel continues. I have finished a chapter, because the bus rides and toilet breaks where I can snatch a few words here and there don’t last too long. I feel bad now because I’m not writing the next part of my long running fanfiction story, but I promise I’ll get back to it.

Mostly, however, I will continue to lurk like the Great God Cthulhu himself.

I’m learning how to draw. Because… I don’t know, because I can? I should? I feel the need to do it, because I must make more things? I’m not so good at noses. I’m wondering if drawing fanart would be good for my skills.

I have to stay away from the news, and all the reminders that the world is a harsh place. My mental health feels fragile, still, like I’ve come back from the edge but I haven’t quite regained my balance yet. Sometimes people talk to me on Steam, and it’s good for me. Talking makes me feel less crazy. Doing things makes me feel less crazy. Making things reminds me that I can still be creative, even if my creativity has gone a little wonky.

And so it goes. I’m still here, dear friends. Now, I have to go and figure out how to install some kind of drawing program…