I’ve been told it’s no secret to anyone that BF and I are on the brink of making some major decisions about the next phase of our lives (the “no secret” part is why I’m comfortable talking about it here).
At this point, all we know is that come March 31, we are moving out of our current apartment building, most likely into an apartment closer to the area where both of us work in the Orlando area.
Moving is a pain in the ass. Chris Illuminati does the best job at explaining why here. I know this. We have way more &$*@ than we did when we both moved to Florida (seriously, if it didn’t fit in our cars, it didn’t come with us). The end of March is going to suck royally. I need to make a friend who has a truck, FAST.
I am proud to say that I am taking this decision in stride. Moving sucks, but I’m prepared to deal with it when the time comes.
On my way to the gym last night, I was struck by the fact that if we moved closer to work, we’d be moving away from the gym I’ve been going to. I plan to ask if we can just transfer our membership to another gym in the same chain (anyone ever done this?), but for some reason I was still upset by the idea.
Like, seriously upset. I guess the idea of having to transfer gyms was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me regarding moving, because I pretty much freaked out in the car. I thought I was going to cry, and my stomach started to do whatever it does that gives me the usual awesome stabbing pain.
It got to the point where I was considering going home and hammering out some research to make myself feel better. Or cleaning something. Or baking those granola cookies I’ve been meaning to make since Saturday.
These signs: Need for answers, stomach pain, desire to scrub and bake … these are the harbingers of a Lex-pocalypse. I was on the fast-track to really losing my cool (at 80 mph).
Instead of doing any of the above, I plugged in my iPod and started up my “ANGRY” playlist that I maintain for times such as these. And, as the bass made my mirrors shake (love you, BOSE speakers), I decided to go to the gym anyway.
I always read that exercising was a good way to combat anxiety and depression. I believe the depression thing, for sure. I was briefly on Lexapro, and I think the last 4 months of regularly working out helped more than those stupid pills. Until last night, I had yet to be convinced about quelling anxiety.
What I’d never realized was that the treadmill or the elliptical, or a stationary bike, are awful ideas when I’m anxious. I’m not the kind of person whose mind is cleared by running. It’s just 30-60 minutes of time I have to stew and worry.
What made last night’s routine so anti-anxiety was that I was actively thinking about working out the entire time. I did 2 advanced Winter Shape Up circuits just prior to a 60-minute Zumba class. When you’re busting your ass going from exercise to exercise, or trying to make your legs (and butt and abs and arms, for that matter) do what your Zumba instructor’s are doing … you’re not thinking about anything else. For a full 90 minutes last night, I didn’t think about moving. And when it was done? I was too tired to even go back to it.
Any other anti-anxiety tips? I’m always up for new ideas.
moving image from atom’s photostream
Zumba pic from cimm’s photostream