Sunday evening should have seen me gently jogging off down the road, with a thoughtful friend keen to help me get my fitness level to where it should be….
In anticipation of this gentle run, I had dug out my “Activewear” practical, sensible clothes designed to exercise in. I went so far as to put it on, and even lace up my rather lovely purple Runners (Trainers for the UK audience.)
A casual sideways glance at my reflection as I left the bedroom stopped me in my tracks.
Within minutes, I had cancelled the planned session with the trainer, and elected instead to work out in my Gym. As home Gyms go, I’d like to think ours is not too bad. There is a Barre, a Spin Bike, Super Hi Tech Treadmill, some steps, a few small weights to use whilst doing various exercises, and Its also blissfully private.
There was simply no way that I could take myself beyond the front door, I convinced myself that it was fine, simply to lock myself in the Back Garden Gym and get on with it. What I didn’t count on was the quietly growing seed of self doubt and loathing that had been planted in my subconscious. This little seed was just waiting for the right moment to flower, and flower it did.
The following day I was confronted by a huge terrifying Triffid dwelling in my subconscious and apparently intent on stinging, hurting, and consuming. Getting from the car park to the office was tough. Sweating profusely and slightly trembling I arrived at my desk, relieved to be in the perceived, relative safety of a group of supportive colleagues.
Moving around the office was bearable, challenging, but bearable. I made progress and pushed forwards through some of the more confronting situations.
As the day drew to a close I began to consider how to get out of the office and into the Hotel. I really was crippled with fear of being seen. Whilst entertaining various notions of moving through the shadows under cover of darkness, Jane phoned, and casually mentioned that I had forgotten my hairbrush and that I needed to pop to the shops to pick one up.
I’m not sure if anyone in the office heard the gentle but persistent sobbing that followed. Jane certainly did, if any of my colleagues did notice, they kept their distance.
Even the prospect of one of my favourite meals with my best friends could not budge me…
I was stunned by the power of my negative thoughts. I didn’t move from the Office for two solid days. Lunch with a friend a short walk from the front door, was fun, but still filled me with crippling anxiety and triggered the ugly anxious perspiration (glistening.)
In a week that saw me receive more compliments than ever before, my brain translated :-
“You look great in that dress.”
to :-
“For a bloke in a dress you look a lot less silly than I thought you would.”
I remain uncertain as to the quite why I am so brutal on myself, but I need to find out, and quickly.
Despicable is not a trait I consider worthy of anybody but myself, and that includes the people who insist on calling me Sir 🙂
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