Weight

My personal trainer makes me do a bunch of different variations of farmers carries twice a week. Sometimes supinated, sometimes racked, and most recently bottoms up. I mostly hate them, but I trust him so I do it. One day, though, he let me just carry the weight. No special hold. I was able to carry 44 kg (97 lbs!) in each hand across the room. I felt so strong and powerful. It was weight I wanted and needed to carry. 

Most people who know me remember about two years ago I made a decision to withdraw my application for a full-time, tenure track teaching position. It was the 6th or 7th time I had applied for that specific job, always to be passed over for someone else. Nothing I ever did was good enough, and I didn't know how to prove I was worthy. I was so, so weary of trying to prove my worth. So I gave up. Not all dreams are meant to come true.

Since then, I have been experiencing a rather low point in my life. I have recently come to believe that I was experiencing depression and beyond that grief. My entire identity for the last 20 years had been wrapped up in the dream, the goal of being a full-time professor. When I gave up on that dream, I lost my life's purpose. I didn't know who I was any more. 

Withdrawing my application was absolutely the right decision for me at that time. I did not make that decision lightly, nor do I have any regrets. But after that I lost interest in all things I enjoyed. I didn't feel sad, but I found no joy in anything. Just about everything I ate was either ordered from a restaurant or something I could microwave, and I was only showering about once a week. With few exceptions, I spent my time in my recliner or my bed scrolling through my newsfeed on social media in a coma-like state. I lived in a void. I was only going through the motions of my life.

Then last March, I fell and broke my arm. At the time, I just viewed it as a freak accident. It sucked, but I dealt with it one day at a time. In hindsight, I don't think it was an accident at all. I think the Universe gave me a violent, purposeful shove to wake me up, to shake me up and out of the trance I was living in.

Once I was cleared to take off the sling, my shoulder was frozen, and I started physical therapy to recover mobility. I don't think any depth of depression could get me to be okay with the loss of function of one arm, much less my dominant arm. Suddenly, I had a goal again. 

When physical therapy ended after two months, I was still experiencing about 50% loss of mobility, so I hired a personal trainer at my gym and have been working with him two days a week ever since. Most days, I still don't want to go, but I want to move like I used to, so I force myself to do it. 

Working out twice a week has significantly improved my mobility--right now, I'm only at about a 5% loss of normal function--but it also started improving my mood. As my mental health improved, I started showering more frequently and eating healthier meals. The pandemic had me feeling rather nervous about strangers preparing my food anyway. In December, I added a Wednesday morning yoga class, which the pandemic blessed me with the ability to attend since I could just flip my Zoom session from yoga class over to my job in half a second at 9:00 a.m. when the class ends and my work shift begins. I also signed up for a 50 squats a day challenge through the American Cancer Society. (Thank you to the couple people who donated!) 

I was taking rather good care of myself, and I slowly started losing weight and feeling better. As I have been lifting weights and strengthening my body, a weight has been being lifted from my heart and my mind. 

But my work life was still pretty blah. Don't get me wrong. I like what I do. And I'm really good at it. But since I'm not working toward a full-time faculty position anymore, I have no goal and therefore no purpose in my work, no achievement to work toward. 

Lucky me, stars are still aligning in my favor. Most of the administration has turned over in the last several years, and the current administration seems to have a growth mentality. The new dean of my department initiated a review of the area I work in, so I've been spending my down time at work researching, reading, and discussing ideas with colleagues. I was engaged in such work this past Thursday when I felt a breakthrough in my spirit. These intellectual exercises are getting my mind back in shape.

I feel mentally alive again. In all areas of my life.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I don't have a new career goal. Yet. I don't even know if I want one. But I am open and willing to find what fulfills me, what gives a larger meaning and purpose to my work life. A growth mindset is an intrinsic part of who I am, and I finally feel like this will be supported and encouraged in my work life. This is a weight I need and want to carry.

The athletes in a critical reading strategies course I taught several years ago coined a slogan for our class: Get Smart; Get Swole. That simple slogan has forever endeared that group of young people to me because they understand that in order to be fully functioning humans, we need to exercise our entire being. We need to lift weights to strengthen our bodies, but we must also exercise our intellect to strengthen our minds. I want to be strong--not just my body but my entire being. I thrive when I have opportunities to flex my muscles...in all areas of my life, not just at the gym.

In short, I'm back and excited to be so.