#38 The upgrade

I have a new phone. I was never one of those early adopters of technology, so I only upgrade my devices when they're on their last legs. That's precisely what happened with my dear iPhone a few days ago. I finally admitted it was time to let him go and provide him rest after some busy years of service. It struggled to keep up with writing, mapping, scheduling, and sports apps, and I lost trust in its battery to get me through the day.

That's what I do. I go through my days, sometimes slow, others running, always trusting the calendar will be up to date, my health app will count my steps, and I will be available in case anyone needs me. The thing I hate the most is when something (or someone) doesn't do what they are expected to, and my little device had long proved it was time for a change. Still, the battery struggle made me realize something: it wasn't the only one suffering the passing of time. Perhaps its failure was just a reflection of something going on with me, and unfortunately, no Apple store can help me with my own issues. I changed my phone, which is a step, but now what should I do about myself?

A few years ago, I lost a significant amount of weight. I went through a mildly radical path to change myself, mostly scared about Covid and what it was doing to overweight people. Science showed me there was a risk, and I methodically tackled the issue. I ate less and better, trained more regularly, and adopted a much healthier way of living, which resulted in a loss of fifteen kilos and a moderate increase in energy. For a year, I felt more than awesome. I had recovered the figure I'd lost many years before, and looking at the mirror felt good, but then, one day, I stopped, either because I was too busy or too tired (probably both). One relaxed day followed another, and slowly but steadily, I saw all that weight I'd lost return to me, making me abandon the new clothes I had so happily purchased, and forcing me to return to those that reminded me of what I used to be. I wasn't good. The mirror became an enemy, and I felt so bad that I lost the strength to train anymore. I was too tired, but still functional, running around as I was supposed to. At least, that never stopped. Unfortunately, that never ended.

Two weeks ago, I trained again. I was tired of feeling tired and sorry, and since I had no mindset to write (it is difficult to concentrate when the house is full of noises I cannot control) I wore my sport clothes, which snuggled me a little more than they used to, and spent one hour flexing, squating and jumping in the living room. The endorphines kicked in, and that day, I felt good. The next day, I did it again, and the other… I knew I just needed to continue the pattern: force myself to, selfishly, dedicate time to myself. It's funny how sometimes we need to do a "bad" thing--be selfish--to feel good... But then, the struggle appeared. My human battery let me know I was demanding too much, and one of my ankles gave up. I've been limping for almost a week now, knowing I need to rest because something is inflamed, and I'm feeling horrible about it. I cannot even be selfish. What a joke. I can do the laundry, drive the kids, cook for the family, and entertain the kids, but I cannot do what I want to do for myself because I feel... broken.

It may not be only physical, though. Let's be transparent and honest: things could be better. I could be thinner and leaner, but right now, I'm not sure if that would make me happier. "Happy" is a strong term, and I'm not sure I've ever been able to take hold of such a concept. I've felt good, blessed, loved, cheerful... but happy? Nah.

I’m going to take care of that too, of course. I always take care of stuff. I do my mental checklist and suffer from it every day. It used to bring me joy to have things done, but now it just reminds me of what I’ve become: the finder, the doer, the reminder. I used to love being all those things. Now, thinking about it gets me tired. I want to be selfish, but that’s the thing I’ve never excelled at, because being selfish in the end makes you lonely, or at least that’s how I see it. Although the truth is that denying myself some extra me-time hasn’t made me the most popular girl at the party either. Right, left… no matter how I look at it, I find myself missing something or someone, no matter how happy I should be.

Maybe it’s the human battery running out. Perhaps it’s the result of the summer holiday, which is showing me how bad I am at enjoying supposedly free time. For sure, it's time to do something else, because clearly, this isn't working right now.

I have to run now. I keep on running.