Caring differently

After i had Rowan, i learned to care differently. Not less or more. Just a change in direction. I no longer cared as much what i looked like, but rather how i felt. I no longer cared as much who i was with, but how they treated me. I lost my ability to give fucks about things like sleep, no matter how much i miss it, because time is different now. I hope to high heaven that i live to be a hundred and get to watch every part of her life unfold, but if i don’t, i care about her so deeply, that she will always know how much she is loved. I don’t care about going places, as much as i care about the experience we have while we are there. I don’t care so much about perfect pictures as i do about capturing moments i want to keep forever. I just care differently now.

Begin again. Always begin again.

As I lay here on a Sunday night, a basket of laundry in my peripheral vision calling me (very quietly) to put it away (I never really do) with SVU back on the tube, I reflect on the last two years of my life. They have been no doubt the best, and also that worst of my life. Tonight, at dinner, my sweet Rowan turned to me and said, “Daddy saved you, didn’t he, Mommy?” I blinked. And then said yes baby, I think he did. We have been keeping each other going. Quietly. Slowly. We have spent the last two years trying to get settled. Ive had a million reasons not to write or reach out. I’ll share them all, eventually.

Recently, I realized I need to start looking outward. I’ve taken the better part of the past year to just focus inward. On my child, my husband, myself. I changed my position at work so that I could keep my tunnel vision. It was what I needed to do right then. For my body too. A few weeks ago, my mind came back. It started to work again. Ideas. Passion. Like something broke back open.

Here I am. Beginning again.

My name is Irish. I’m a 33 year old Harry Potter addict who works out on the side. No but seriously. I have been a personal trainer, yoga, Pilates & barre instructor for over ten years. Teaching is my happy place. It’s how I share light (and pain) with those I love. My clients become my friends, my family. I want to share that with you too.

I will be posting workouts. Sometimes 5 minutes of stretching, like today. To be kind to yourself. Because no matter what your fitness goals, that is so very important. I cannot tell you how much kindness & happiness can change the body. Kindness to yourself, and happiness in your body will alter your appearance. You will read my rants about this.

Sometimes I will post challenges. Ways to push yourself, to find creativity in your workouts to keep your mind alive, and your body progressing.

Sometimes, like today… I’ll be thinking about the need to begin again. To have the courage to keep beginning again. No matter what. It’s ok to take time when you need it. Pause. For minutes, days, months…but you have to begin again. You have to wake up and try again.

My name is Irish. I have anxiety, chronic migraines and nerve damage in my left shoulder. I am hyper-mobile in many of my joints and have been working for years to find the correct way to workout to care for myself. I’ve taken this search for knowledge, this search, and translated it to helping others. The greatest majority of my clients who see me in person, come to me for help with pain. Pain management tends to be like a puzzle. Each piece has to be found and put together the right way to find relief. I pride myself in being part of the puzzle for so many.

My pain also helps me see the world a little differently. Perspective is so very important. My anxiety skews it from time to time…but the workouts help.

My name is Irish, I love donuts, perusing the ‘we made too much’ section of Lululemon, drinking too much iced coffee and leaving cupboard doors wide open so that it looks like a crazy person has been in my kitchen always.

I started teaching because I liked the workouts and benefits of yoga and Pilates, but I could not find anyone who had a message that resonated with me. The explanation of how my body was supposed to find what it needed was….. lacking. There was not enough. I wanted more. Different. So that’s what I became. I became the instructor I was looking for. I teach classes that are meaningful to me.

This life is meaningful to me. I’m not a super nice person. I’m not a cheer leader. My teaching style has been rebellious, and sometimes compared to a dominatrix. I don’t have all the answers. I’m on a quest to find them and share each one.

Fake it till you make it

There have been a lot of times in my life where the mantra Fake it till you make it, has come in handy. When learning anything, when trying to get better at anything, when trying to get through a hard time… The situations are limitless because you are limitless. There are occasions where I have to teach but I feel like garbage, I fake it. I act like I’m fine and I do actually feel better when the class is done, it’s like I tricked my brain into forgetting my allergies were terrible. When I start a new pose, going toward it with the determination to conquer it but not really knowing if I have the strength to accomplish it… I fake it. I just do it. Even for a short time until it eventually gets easier. When my self esteem is low and all I see in the mirror are flaws, I pull myself together as best I can and pretend to be confident. No one sees your flaws like you do. Fake it, pretend you like the way you look, pretend you don’t see the little things like a hair out of place. Your confidence makes you beautiful. Not perfect features.

In most things in life, you need to have the courage to try, to learn and to grow. And sometimes that means you need to fake it till you make it. Put yourself out there.

Do not be your harshest critic- it’s silly! Life is too short and you are too lucky.

Be well. Be good to yourself. Be good to others. And always have the confidence to try.