My Own Worst Enemy

It's no surprise to me
I am my own worst enemy
'Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me

I went to the gym tonight for the first time in over a week.  I was fine once I got there.  I still enjoy the exercise.  I still feel good when I leave.

However, getting there has been a major chore. 

I went last Tuesday night.  Had a good workout.

Then, last Wednesday night, I went out for dinner and drinks with a friend. Skipped the gym.

On Thursday, I got to the gym but forgot my gym bag and gym clothing at home, and came back home.  Didn't go back.

On Friday, I was experiencing painful ovaries, fatigue and irritable personality syndrome.  I took some Midol, crawled into bed and slept all night.  The gym was the last thing on my mind.

On Saturday, I took Abby to get her nails done and then curled up with a heating pad on the couch.  Repeat of Friday night.  The only exercise I got was reaching for the remote control.

On Sunday, I watched television and then battled rude people at Wal-Mart. I guess walking through the store was a mild form of exercise.

On Monday, the "check engine" light came on as I headed towards the gym.  I detoured to get it checked out.  Couldn't find anything wrong.  Decided to just go home and convinced myself the gym would be a madhouse on a Monday night anyway.

Last night, I actually drove towards the gym... and then just did not feel like going in.  Couldn't do it.  Wanted to just go home and be a bum.  Had a kind of crappy day at work and wanted to watch television and do nothing all night, which is what I did.  I watched My Best Friend's Wedding.  I had forgotten how much I used to like that movie.  Sort of.  The soundtrack is awesome.  My favorite scene, which I quote from time to time, is the whole creme brulee versus jello debate. "I can be jello."  "You can never be jello. Creme brulee can never be jello."  I also watched some bad movie on Starz called The Roommate, which was a dormitory twist on Single White Female.

Tonight -- tonight, I went.  I actually got out of my car, got dressed and did my 45 minute routine.  I felt good while doing it.  I felt good after I did it.  I hope I can get back on track.

This phase --  it's typical for me.  I have done this so many times in my life.  I start something and then I lose interest.  I get bored.  I stop doing it.  I do it with hobbies, with jobs, with people, with television shows, with food ... 

I am my own worst enemy.  I don't know why I do it.  I don't have ADD.  I don't lack motivation.  I just get... bored.  The excitement wears off.  The novelty is gone.  I look for something new and exciting to appeal to me. I want some reason for it to be not okay not to do it.  Sadly, the people who love me tell me it's ok to just stop doing things I don't enjoy because they usually do the same thing themselves.  We support each other's indifference.

I always tell myself "this time will be different."

Then, two weeks later, I'm sabotaging myself.  I make excuses.  I hate making excuses.  I get mad when other people make excuses.  Yet, I do it.

I know it's not healthy.  I know it's not normal.

I know better.  

To be honest, I'm amazed I'm still writing this blog.   I stopped after a few months in 2010, after I got tired of doing it.  If I hadn't wanted to try to impress some people/men in my life with my witty prose and wordsmithing, I probably would have quit by now.

Why is it so hard for me to just stick to something I enjoy?

I can do things I don't enjoy.  I've stayed in relationships past their expiration date.  I've given dying friendships many second and third chances.  I've stayed in jobs I didn't enjoy.  I've lived in towns I didn't enjoy.  I've sucked up other miserable unsatisfying things out of obligation, necessity and loyalty.

If I have an obligation, I stick it out.  If I fear disappointing someone, I stick it out.  If someone is relying on me, I stick it out.  I'm very dedicated that way.

But, if it's for me....  If I'm the one who benefits from the efforts, I don't care so much. I give up.  I say "Eh, what's the point?"

Does that mean I don't care for myself as much as I care about other people?

(sigh)

I'd write more and try to figure this out, but now I've become bored with this topic.