Stone of stumbling and rock of offense (wordweaverlynn) wrote,
Stone of stumbling and rock of offense
wordweaverlynn

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Pedometer Behavior Mod

I realized at 1120pm that I had only 330 steps for the day. and that the pedometer's step counter would tick over at midnight even if I stayed up until 6AM (as I did Saturday night/Sunday morning). So I rushed to the grocery store and power-walked up and down the aisles, choosing the ones that hadn't been blocked by stockers. When I needed a bit of rest, I went more slowly and actually shopped.

By midnight I had 2297 steps. Since then I've added more than 500, which will be counted as part of Monday. Also I have some essential groceries.

As to why I had only 330 steps...well, that's the kind of thing that has often kept me from exercising. Possibly triggering:

Yes, I was up all night, one of those nights of insomnia rooted not in caffeine or pleasure, but an unspoken, almost unconscious terror of the dreams that sleep will bring.

When I did finally sleep, the dreams were nightmares. Nightmares memorable even in a long life of horrors encountered awake and asleep. Dismemberment, mutilation, rape, murder, madness, homelessness. A great deal of the violence and horror was remembered, not imaginary.

Certain kinds of pain are deeply triggering for me. They recall beatings and worse. After my energetic Saturday, I was slightly achy. I know a lot of people find the ache of exercise a good pain. I find it triggering.

Furthermore, one of the lessons I learned early was not to stir, not to do anything to call attention to myself. A hundred times a day I stifle the urge to move. Moving is dangerous. It attracts attention.

Above all, one of my core reasons for letting myself become weak was my long-held knowledge that if I were strong, I would have to use my strength in violence. I was supposed to kill my father. God knows I also wanted to, I'm as scarred by my own murderousness, my decades of homicidal fantasies and desires, as I am by anything done to me.

So my unconscious mind wants to protect me: from being raped again, or murdered, and from becoming a killer. Thus the nightmares to warn me back into silent immobility.

But I don't live in that household any more. My father is dead. I can become strong, attract attention, even become successful without having to pick up a knife to kill him. So I will talk to myself, try to soothe the nightmares, and keep on keeping on. As long as I can.

Tags: body
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