by Fiona likes to blog | Aug 1, 2016 | FITNESS, LIFE
If you follow me on Twitter you’ll have noticed my “in your face” updates about my recent foray into yoga. I’ve done it on and off for years and like bleaching your upper-lip hair or a visit to the dentist it’s one of those things you just wish you’d done earlier in life. Yoga is life-changing, invigorating and something I urge everyone to try at least once. Read on to hear my case for yoga!
Strength & flexibility
Let’s talk about the physical benefits of yoga before I start to explain how much it has improved my mental state. My favourite thing to do in the gym is lift weights. I love the process, the sense of achievement and the feeling of power that comes with picking up heavy shit.
The problem for me is that I do it for a hobby, and as a result have obtained a few niggling injuries that could be helped if I had better core strength and general flexibility. I know what you’re thinking – yoga is easy, it’s just stretching! But trust me, when you wake up 24 hours after your first yoga class you’ll know for sure that it does effectively work your muscles!
Yes, you’re only using your own bodyweight for resistance but the positions and the time held in those positions is a real test for even the most confident weight-lifter. Flexibility is something I have never had, but I’m assured it’s an ability I can refine with practice and a little time. Combined with some weight-training I’m still maintaining muscle but with a focus on functional strength.
Self-improvement
I have been a fitness freak for several years now, starting off with a cheeky Zumba class and quickly progressing to what others would deem unpleasant adventures like spinning, HIIT, weight-lifting and half-marathon training.
The thing I quickly realised was that I loved the idea of trying something new and getting better at it over time. Unfortunately in my preferred area of expertise this often led to burn out, injuries and mental torture (e.g. running. I’m talking about the repetitive, lonely, painful torture of running).
With yoga however, the scope for self-improvement seems wide and pretty welcoming. It’s not a case of doing more burpees than the person next to you, but more a case of pushing yourself a little further mentally and physically than you thought you could previously. The journey is ongoing and for me 100% internal which is a refreshing change of pace.
Motivation
There seems to be a common misconception that yoga is some sort of sleep-educing witchcraft designed to send you dosing off into the best forty-winks of your life. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times in the final moments of an hour long session where I’ve been lying flat on my mat, stretched out and could’ve quite happily lay there until the gym manager peeled me off the floor at closing time.
But the general feeling at the end of a class is that of satisfaction, and for me a newfound motivation that filters through to other areas of my life. Whether I held every pose correctly or long enough is irrelevant, because for that short period of time I concentrated on only one thing and that was my attempt at doing yoga.
The ability to declutter the mind and work only on the physical task at hand is so beneficial, that I guarantee over time your stress levels will decrease, your daily focus will sharpen and your general motivation will improve. I find my motivation is at its peak just after I have practised, so I try to do classes early in the morning to get the most out of my day.
Do you practise yoga regularly, or are you tempted now?
by Fiona likes to blog | Jul 28, 2016 | LIFE
My husband and I relocated to Birmingham last weekend from Glasgow. I wasn’t planning on blogging about it because I wasn’t sure it was that big of a deal. It would probably be the first thing on most writer’s minds when they start to type, but sometimes when you’re so deeply involved in a situation you disassociate yourself from the enormity of it all (a whiff of denial is definitely in the air here). I certainly do anyway.
I’ve been focusing on the little things that occur on a daily basis – making a nice dinner, rearranging the new flat, exploring my local gym – instead of worrying about the fact that we’ve moved 300 miles away from home. No biggie, right?
In fact, distance is only as far as you make it. Since moving I’ve actually reconnected with so many people who have private messaged me to say good luck, or even offered to come visit us. I’ve spoken to most people more than I usually would because I’m so aware of the geographical space between us, and I instinctively want to make the communication lines stronger.
The other thing that has helped me maintain my sanity (for 90% of the time) has been to surround myself with comforting things. I don’t mean physical things like cuddly toys but more like activities that give me comfort, things that help calm my insecurities and make me feel in control of my now non-existent routine.
I ordered an online grocery shop to arrive the day after we moved in, because I have wierd issues with food (for evidence read any food related post on this blog) and like to have healthy, satiating options available to me at all times. This is some deep-rooted fear of starving to death by the way, brought on by restricted eating for the last decade of my life.
Obviously I ordered some treats in there to help with my emotional eating too (I’m looking at you peanut butter) but overall I just wanted to fill our new home with familiar foods that I could use to rustle up a fulfilling plateful, whilst minimising my anxiety around meal times.
I try to make going to the gym a daily habit – for my mood as well as my waistline – so I wanted to ensure I could do that as soon as we moved in. Luckily there is a budget gym just around the corner from that flat and I was already a member so I just changed my location online and I could use it straight away.
I’ve never been able to find a gym with a regular yoga class, so when I saw my local offering four classes a week I jumped – don’t worry I stretched beforehand – at the chance. I was up for the 7am class on Wednesday morning and it felt great to be back practising a good habit for both mind and body. Did you know that early morning exercise actually gives you the legal right to spend the entire day telling everyone what you did and being a smug little twat about it?
So my attempts at damage control seemed to be working pretty well and I’d only uttered “I’m FINE!” in the style of Ross from Friends one or two times under my breath and it had gone unnoticed. All was well. That was, until we need furniture.
Yes people, the most terrifying thing about moving away from home has been having to purchase new Ikea flat-pack furniture and trying to build it before my husband got home from work in some sort of attempt to prove I can be useful. I’m currently unemployed, and after a two day stint at constructing and ruining two sets of drawers I’ve tainted any dream I had of becoming a joiner. There were tears, and many curse words were spoken but I guess I’m still here.
I didn’t fail, I just made a bit of an arse of it.
And on that note, let’s raise a glass to making terrifying life-changing decisions! What’s the worst that can happen?
by Fiona likes to blog | Jul 26, 2016 | LIFE
“Becoming a pop star will be difficult Fi” my Mum said.
I was about nine years old at the time, and one year deep into my obsession with the Spice Girls. “I know Mum, but I’m willing to put in the hard work” I said quite confidently, not having ever experienced a day’s work in my puff, never mind a day’s hard work. I wasted away my hours learning the dance routine to “Who do you think you are?” and planning my next outfit based on Geri Halliwell’s fashion history but I’d be damned if people weren’t going to take me seriously as a future pop star.
The months went by and I honed my craft; performing a solo at the school assembly and submitting an application to Stars in Their Eyes were among the highlights. I struck power poses in the mirror and practised harmonizing with my Spice Girls CDs, not forgetting to extend my repertoire to other genres by including tracks by other 90’s favourites such as Eternal, Blur and Chumbawumba.
When I wasn’t singing or practising walking in platforms I often wrote a diary. I can only hope that they are lying in a landfill somewhere with their tiny little padlocks still attached, never to be opened. I also remember being shown how to use a typewriter, and later my Dad’s word processor which he kept in his home office.
Although writing a diary had been enjoyable, it was a hobby at best. Sitting there in front of a computer screen, tapping keys and looking pensively into the distance in between typing seemed more official somehow. It seemed like a job I could do.
I wrote a lot of nonsense. The kind of stories that started with a kid unlocking door and ended with him jetting off in a flying inflatable swimming pool. I would start writing and I wouldn’t stop until I had exhausted my imagination, swept out every nook and cranny of my mind and dumped it onto the page.
Looking back now it was probably a great exercise for anyone with ‘writer’s block’ and it’s kind of how I tackle blogging now, especially when it comes to personal topics. The key factor is knowing what to cut out of the nonsense you’ve just created. However, at nine years old I had not yet learned how to edit my work.
A few years later I was asked what I wanted to do with my life. It was our leaving assembly for primary school, and we were to speak in front of the audience and explain my future plans. We had to draw a life-sized picture of the uniform we would wear, and hold this up whilst we gave our speech, giving the illusion that we were wearing the outfit. I’m pretty sure this is the exact moment in my life when pressure began to weigh down on my conscience, and the voices in my head began to ask “What are you doing with your life?”
Anyway, I couldn’t decide. I loved writing; it was therapeutic,creative and deemed a ‘real’ job in my mind. I’m sure it would go down well with my parents. Being a pop star on the other hand, would be a long hard struggle which would inevitably end in disappointment, drug addiction or maybe both. But surely my years of performing (in my bedroom, but still performing) hadn’t been in vain? All for nothing?
I must have expressed my dilemma to my teacher at the time, because what resulted was definitely not something I would have concocted all by myself. I drew a figure that was an author on one half, and a pop star on the other. I remember thinking this was a great idea, but then realising at the assembly I was the only one who couldn’t decide. I was the only person there with a career choice, a future – split down the middle. My only comfort was that my speech evoked a few laughs – which I took to be a good thing – and sparked a fleeting idea that I could become a comedian – although I don’t think I was really committed to that plan.
You may have already guessed, I did not fulfil my childhood dream of becoming a pop star author hybrid. I spent many years singing publicly and was in a band for a while. I was known at school as “that girl who could sing”, and ended up studying music at university although I realised the industry wasn’t for me. I still get asked why I don’t sing any more; I guess with adulthood I lost my confidence and performing is just not something I enjoy.
Writing however, has been a thread that has weaved its way quietly and consistently through my life. Even if it never becomes my career, I know I can rely on it as I always have, as a way to clear out my mind and share my experiences with the world.
by Fiona likes to blog | Mar 6, 2016 | ANXIETY, DEPRESSION, FITNESS
I stared blankly at my to-do list. This list had been growing steadily for many months since my department had lost two members of staff and I had naively offered to pick up the extra work in a bid for praise, more money or a promotion – looking back I can’t remember exactly why I thought it was a good idea.
Working weekdays meant I had every weekend off for the first time since I was a teenager, and I tagged along to a Zumba class one Saturday morning with my mum out of sheer boredom and the hope of losing a few pounds. I had tried running and trained for 23 mile walk previously so I was surprisingly fit. As I bounced around my local sports hall in my mum’s old gym clothes I felt like I was at the weirdest, sweatiest party on a Saturday morning and although it was filled with a variety of ages and abilities I felt completely accepted as part of the team.
I joined my local gym and as the weeks went on I became more and more dependant on exercise as a form of stress-relief as well as a way to lose weight. When I was banging out burpees, grave-vines and planks no one could touch me.
I was pushing my body to do things I never thought I would be able to do – simple things like running for longer than 10 minutes and doing full press ups – and it was all my own doing. The people at work couldn’t take that away from me, it was my space and I was owning it. I looked forward to clocking out at 5.30pm so I could head to the gym and let out all my anger and frustration in a physical way. It was an exhilarating and new form of expression for me.
As I became more proficient at exercise my ability to complete my ‘to-do’ list at work was seriously waning. After some time work became overwhelming for me and I was unable to work for 6 months whilst I got my mental health back on track. I am so thankful that during that time I was still in the early stages of my fitness journey, because my love for exercising undoubtedly minimised some of the damage that could have been done by my mental state.
Exercising got me out of the house when I didn’t want to do anything at all. It made me set an alarm and get up at a certain time, have a shower afterwards and eat something substantial to keep me going until my next session. When you’re depressed these things are a daily accomplishment, and exercise seemed to kick-start that routine for me. Don’t get me wrong; there were many, many days when none of these things were accomplished but sooner or later the gym would reel me back in after a few days of endless sleeping.
It also forced my to interact with other human beings. I know, it sounds icky right, but in local gyms people actually say “Good morning!” and “Have you been to this class before? I’m new”. A lot of the time I stood right up the front of the room (where no one wants to be) because I was so focused on getting the most out of the class.
If this seems like strange behaviour for someone who was depressed and anxious, I completely agree! The only way I can explain it is by saying that I was kind of anonymous in those classes. No one knew anything about my condition, my job or my financial situation so I felt like they couldn’t judge me.
I was just that girl who showed up everyday for a workout and stood up the front like a teacher’s pet. That anonymity made me comfortable enough to make polite chitchat with complete strangers at a time when I struggled to even send a text message to my best friends.
The most rewarding thing about exercise for me has been the feeling of doing something I thought I was previously incapable of doing. I ran a 10k after years of trying to run without any success. I pushed myself further and ran a half marathon, and lets be clear I do NOT have the natural ability for endurance running!
I love lifting weights and seeing the number on the bar steadily creep up over weeks and months, or completing an extra set when you’re sure you can’t do another single rep. I started my first spin class feeling like Bambi on a bike and within 40 mins I was increasing my RPM to a respectable standard and within weeks I felt like a pro.
I don’t feel like a particularly strong-willed person, I get easily stressed and anxious but when I’m tearing it up in the gym I honestly feel like I can take on the world. I am focused, hard-working and excited there and it’s where I feel at home and that’s why I keep going back again and again.
by Fiona likes to blog | Jan 9, 2016 | ANXIETY, FOOD, LIFE
As I sit here with a belly full of porridge and and nice strong coffee in front of me, it’s easy not to think about food. Well when I say easy, it’s not consuming my thoughts like it often does during every waking moment of my life. In fact, forget the ‘every waking moment’ crap because I regularly dream about what I’m going to eat for breakfast (usually some sort of pancake affair lovingly decorated with blueberries) only to wake up late and grab an under-ripe banana on the way out the door.
As I was saying; I’m currently not obsessing over food. I know I’m not alone when I say that this rarely happens and it’s a pretty hard state of mind to achieve on purpose. I’m among the millions of young women who have spent their teenage and adult lives separating foods into categories such as;
good, bad, calorie free, post-workout only, post-goal weight only, weekend only, carb free, fat free, good fat, bad fat (these are the tastiest), emotional crutch and I’m on my period so screw you world
…..and so on. I’ve been conditioned (partly through my own doing) to label foods, or at least see them in a certain way so as to choose the best ones to lose weight. I’ve read a lot of diet books (Atkins, GI diet, carb-cycling, Scottish slimmers, 5:2) and the cumulative effect of this has been an information overload.
The truth is that all of these diets work (short term at least, I don’t recommend any of them) but only on their own. You can’t retain all that knowledge and apply it all at once as it simply won’t work.
Correction: it might work but will leave you nutritionally deficient and acting fucking mental because you’re deprived of anything substantial. Have you ever eaten condiments because you’re craving pure flavour? This is real people, I’ve eaten onion chutney straight out of the jar.
I’ve read that I need to eat low fat, low carb, lean protein, grain-free, gluten-free and sugar-free to get ripped. Let me tell you, that doesn’t leave a lot of tasty food on offer. I’ve lived a life comprised of eggs, chicken, broccoli and NO FRUIT for crying out loud. If that doesn’t make you run screaming for the ice cream isle then nothing will.
That’s the point I’m getting at here. The more you focus on what you can’t eat, the more you want it. It’s simply inevitable that you will fall off the wagon and eat the food you’re not supposed to. The act of eating the forbidden fruit isn’t the problem though – it’s the affect this has on your mental state. You feel guilty, unhealthy and like you’ve failed at life.
But what if there were no good or bad foods? What if we just forgot about food entirely until our bodies signalled to us that they were hungry? What if we learned to listen to what our bodies craved and found out that it wasn’t really garlic bread after all?
I believe I’m on the path to figuring that shit out. I’m trying to embrace all foods for all their beauty. Avocados are no longer relegated to the ‘high calorie’ pile. They are now my go-to food when I need an energy boost of B vitamins, amino acids and anti-oxidants. They are a great fat source that leave me feeling satisfied and satiated.
Carbs are no longer the enemy. If I’m craving that kind of food I choose the best version I can, instead of avoiding it altogether and caving in later with a bag of Doritos and a bar of Dairy Milk. My carbs of choice are basmati rice, brown tortilla wraps, rye bread, sweet potatoes and regular potatoes. I don’t eat pasta because I’m honestly not that fussed for it, but I know some people go mad for it.
I’ve started to notice these little things, how my tastes have changed, and it’s amazing what you pick up on once you really start to tune in to your body (wow I sound like a totally hippy right now).
We had a fry up for breakfast the other day and as soon as I sat down to eat I realised I wasn’t hungry. Alarm bells should be ringing right now, people are rejoicing in the streets and shouting “Hallelujah! She’s finally full”…. But honestly, this rarely happens. I normally scoff it down quicker than the rest of the family and sit staring at my empty plate with my mouth half open waiting to see who will toss me seconds.
But after a few weeks of eating freely, this plate of food suddenly didn’t meet my expectations. It’s not that there was anything wrong with it, quite the opposite in fact as my father-in-law is a great cook! But after a few weeks of listening intently to my body’s needs and fuelling it accordingly I could somehow sense that it didn’t want to eat a fry up today. It wasn’t that I consciously chose not to eat the food, but rather that my hunger signals simply told me that the food was not required.
I find that to be bloody extraordinary. Even though as I write this I realise that I have just described the way the body and mind should naturally function!!!!
As you’ve probably figured out, I love food. The hard thing about dieting is that it makes food important for all the wrong reasons. Eating out is difficult,as is cooking and socialising,even eating your lunch in front of other people can be enough to send you to the bathrooms to hide your green salad. The great thing about forgetting about food is that you give yourself the freedom to eat whaveter you want, whenever you want. This means you can live on beans on toast when you’re skint, eat lobster when you’re rich, eat avocados for breakfast, grab a burger on your way home from work in a rush and have scrambelled egg for supper if you want. To someone who has lived a life planning out each meal hours or even days in advance, this idea of essentially ‘eating what you want’ initially seemed terrifying and a recipe for disaster.
I thought, and many people do, that if I allow myself to eat whatever I want then I really will eat whatever I want. Because I have restricted my food intake for so many years this is unfortunately how it goes down for the first few weeks. I gave myself permission to eat all the things on my naughty list like; cake, biscuits, chocolate, pizza, bread and cheese. Lots of cheese. Embarrassing amounts of cheese. But honestly, after eating like this for a few days at a time all my cravings had been somewhat satisfied and I could hear a tiny little voice inside screaming EAT SOME BROCCOLI!
Over the course of a few weeks this voice began to say other interesting things such as;
Eat more for breakfast
Eat some fat
You don’t need protein for dinner, just eat some veggies
I’m craving sugar but rice with dinner will be good
Eat more
Eat less
You’re hungry
You’re thirsty
Don’t be fooled though, the voice comes in many forms and recently had said things like
Eat that whole chocolate orange
Eat pizza for dinner
Eat pizza for lunch
Pizza
Pizza
So as you can see it’s an ongoing struggle, where above all I am learning to listen to what my body is saying. It sounds airy-fairy, and I guess in a way it is, but everything else I’ve done up until now has given me such a negative and complicated relationship with food that at this point I’m willing to take a stab in the dark and try this intuitive approach to eating.
Learning how to think positively about food is a long and bumpy road. I can’t fix all the problems overnight when it’s taken a lifetime to rack up all the mistakes. I’m taking it each meal at a time, if I have a crap day I try and understand why and move on. If I don’t understand then that’s OK too, but I still try and move on.
There were many days over Christmas and New Year where I ate uncontrollably, just because it ’twas the season’ but that doesn’t mean I’m going to restrict myself for the rest of January. I now refuse to restrict myself, and the truth is that may mean not losing weight quickly or even at all. The priority for me now must be long term. I’m on a journey to build a healthy relationship with food, and that starts with forgetting all about it.
Is this something that you are struggling with too? Please comment with your tips!
