So, a few weeks ago at my doctor’s office I had my blood pressure taken. It was high for me. I wasn’t terribly concerned. Normally my blood pressure is perfect, wonderful. The nurse always comments on how wonderful it is. So when the nurse this time said it was a bit high I told her that even during my last pregnancy I had picture perfect blood pressure and maybe this just due to some stress or the rush of getting to the appointment on time, or the horror of stepping on the scale. I dismissed it and she didn’t seem too concerned so I forgot about it. I mean, I’m a yogi right? I admit I’ve sort of been slacking, but it’s been a really busy six or seven months. The move. Teaching as a full-time gig. Trying to make friends. Getting used to a new city. Okay, I know what you’re thinking. That’s a lot of stress and you’re right and I’m not actually touching on it all. But I do teach now more than I ever have before and I figured that had to count for something.
Yesterday my husband was at the doctor’s and his blood pressure was high. I was shocked. I hadn’t even mentioned to him that mine had been too. We talked in amazement that this was happening to us. So today at Dillon’s we both spied the blood pressure machine, in the corner of the pharmacy area, at the same time. “Now, I’m really curious,” I told him as I pulled my sweater over my head.
I took my blood pressure a total of five times. Five times not good. The first was the worst. The first put me in the range of pre-hypertension. WHAT???? My husband took his a bunch of times. Not good, any of them.
The health issues are piling up. At this late hour, after a day of being out and about I’m really too tired to think about it anymore.
But I have a confession to make. I’ve really been amiss with the whole pre-diabetes thing. First, in true Melissa fashion, I went overboard. I got diabetic cookbooks, even though I’m not diabetic. I ate raw and tried to cut out all simple carbs. Then I reasoned that really all I needed to do was drop some weight and the problem should correct itself. (Which is true, according to the Doc.) Then I just stopped caring. Not altogether. I make half-assed attempts, but i’ve eaten fast food three times in the last two weeks. That’s more than I ate it in the six months previous. I’m having some weird rebellion, which you may find hard to believe is completely in line for me. As soon as someone tells me to do something, I want to stop. If I’m suppose to stop I’ll redouble my efforts. It’s not healthy or good, but I’ve come to accept that it’s true. Admitting the truth is the first step, right?
So, here we go again. Tomorrow I will google blood pressure and hypertension. I will take the dog for a long walk. I will stop thinking I deserve fat and cholesterol laden food. I will remember that I actually like to eat fresh and healthy. I will remind myself how great i feel with I eat fresh, whole foods. I will be grateful that I’ve been given a chance to address these issues. I will do a real honest to God yoga practice. Not just getting on the mat for 20 minutes and calling it good. Not just getting on the mat to put together sequences for class. Not warming up and then pulling out books to research poses and then reading until it’s time to feed my son. I will actually practice yoga. I may drag my husband along too.
I know, from family members, from clients and students how easily the health issue can pile up and affect each other. I know they are like a kids game, as soon as you spy one you’ll keep finding them and then pretty soon they’re everywhere.
So I remind myself that it’s progress not perfection. That it’s okay that I’ve only lost a few pounds and i only worked out once this week. Tomorrow is Saturday and that’s a better day for beginning new things than Sunday or Monday anyday. Saturdays are full of promise and hope and a redoubling of the efforts feels right.
I’ll keep you updated.
P.S. The time stamp is wrong and I’m actually writing this at 10:30 pm on April 3. Third of thirty down.