Wayyyyyyy back in January I wrote a post on what I aspire to be. This post was prompted by being told my only goal in life was to look good in a bikini. Lame, but it really got me thinking about what I wanted to be.
A lot of those things were hard to achieve in the city, and really got the wheels turning on my move. Now that I’m home… and I have the ability to be better at those things, daughter, sister, role model, etc etc I’m finding it… well, hard to let go of the things I USED to identify with.
Living in Montreal life was… routine, simple, habit.
I was single and independent, living on my own and loving my little bubble of an apartment.
I was a figure competitor… working my butt off towards a show date and focused and driven with one goal in mind.
I had a job that I (once) loved, and it gave me a reason to get up everyday and get moving. The constant challenge of dealing with problems and new situations kept me guessing and learning, something that was very important in a career to me. I needed a challenge, routine and ease bored me.
The ability to be random, take off on weekend trips, go where I wanted, do what I needed to do was always at my finger tips. With a (frustrating but…) frequent/decent public transit system and tons of bike/walking/day trip options I was able to do anything. Go away for weekends to NYC, snowboard, wander for hours.
And now… Being alone is a rare treat, I’m unemployed, I’m retired/in off season from competing, I don’t have the means/money to be as random as usual.
It’s hard. It’s really really hard and I’m admittedly struggling. I know that this is the biggest factor in me struggling with eating. Boredom, emotions, whatever it is hits me hard. It’s like everything I was is gone. While I KNOW moving was the right decision, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, I knew it was going to be a huge change, it was just a matter of time before the “vacation feel” wore off and it hit me.
Saturday afternoon I found myself feeling sorry for myself. Why? I don’t really know. But it all hit me. I just felt…. off. I sat myself down and gave myself 5 minutes to feel sorry for myself. I had myself a really good cry, wiped my tears and got in the shower to get ready to go out. Things won’t get better, sort themselves out, if I just sit home and feel sorry for myself.
That night I went out with Elisa for dinner and we did a bit of bar hopping. I admit the “scene” is well… tough. I felt old, I felt sad that I was single, I felt… ugh… fat, and just… wrong. It’s not ideal, but it is what it is. Pushing myself out of my comfort zone is the only thing that’s going to help me.
I’m working towards recapturing glimpses of my “old” life. After I drop mom off at work in the morning I’ve been going to the gym for cardio, and then back later on to train so it feels more… normal.
While I have been sending out my resume I have held off sending it to my dream job. Why? Fear. Plain and simple. What happens if I’m rejected, what if I don’t even get a response? Then what?
Simple. I keep moving forward, I go take some classes, I get a part time job, I go on with life. Because life always does go on.
So yes… I am having a mild identity crisis transitioning into my new life, but it’s good. It’s really a good thing. It’s going to force myself out of my comfort zone, force me to decide what is really important and what’s not so important.
… and until I find out exactly who I am and who I want to be I’m just going to enjoy the ride. It’s going to be interesting.