10 More Things I Learned During Covid Isolation

This is a continuation from my last post, where I talk about my experience of having Covid just before Christmas.

I tried to narrow what I learned from 10 days on my own to 10 items, but I failed miserably. So here are 10 more things isolation taught me.

To read the first 10 learnings from my experience with Covid click here.

10 (more) things I learned in Covid Isolation

1. It’s a good time to make a photobook whilst in quarantine. 

   Photobook creation websites like Photobook Canada (which I used) have some pretty amazing programs to create truly unique and professional books. 10 days honestly flew by just learning how to use the different features, and create a photo cookbook of all my Nana’s recipes that I was sure my mom would love. Honestly, hours went by without a thought dedicated to this very consuming project.

2. It takes a f***ing long time to put together a photobook.  

   Spoiler: It took me so long to make the photobook that it did not arrive in time for Christmas. On the final day of my isolation, I actually kind of wished I had another day or two to finish working on it in peace.

3. Sometimes exercise feels unproductive.

   Don’t get me wrong, I will always feel a high after finishing a workout, whether its a HIIT workout, a challenging pole class, or a long walk. But when you have a 100 page document (or photo cookbook) to edit and a fast approaching deadline, sweating for the sake of sweating or leaving your house to walk the same route for an hour only to arrive back where you started feels rather redundant. For that reason, as well as for the sake of my immune system that was currently being attacked by virus particles, I took a pretty big step back from exercise during my isolation. And I felt pretty accomplished by the end of it.

4. I own too few pairs of pajamas.

   Pretty much all I wore the entire 10 days I was isolating. And the few days I was sick and without test results before that. I even started walking my dog in my PJ’s, just throwing on my boots and coat. How many days did I go wearing the same pajama bottoms? I will take the answer of that to my grave.  

5. Bras are overrated.

   See above. The closest thing I came to a bra were the sports bras I would wear for pole. And sometimes they doubled as a shirt paired with my PJ bottoms for the rest of the day. I had surprisingly very little laundry to do after those 10 days quarantined at home.

6. Even introverts succumb to loneliness at some point.

   While I am not a through and through introvert (hello Leo), I definitely have an introverted side along with my streak of independence. For most of quarantine, I was pretty content with my puzzles, a hallmark Christmas movie, and my pole. However, there were times where I really and truly felt like an outsider to the rest of the world. I would see instagram stories and posts of friends getting together for christmas parties, work events, or even just coffee dates and that’s when loneliness would hit. In those moments, I would even consider giving up my PJ pants for some human interaction.

7. A bit of dancing everyday keeps sadness at bay.

   While I didn’t do much in terms of “working out,” most days I did end up finding my way to my pole, fuelled by my Spotify playlist of a few good songs in a row. I just moved and grooved and spun myself around, for as long or as little as I was feeing, and inevitably, I came out of those dance sessions with a little happiness boost. Well worth the slight feeling of out of breathness after (which did thankfully go away after my 5th or 6th day in isolation).

8. Even dogs need space.

   For 10 days, it was just me and my 13 year old husky/shepherd Jaeda. I am a cuddler. Jaeda less so. Craving some form of interaction and affection, I often looked to Jaeda for a good cuddle session. She would always oblige for awhile, but after 10 or so minutes had past of me skootching into her bed with her, she would look sideways at me, give a little groan, and heave her old bones off of her cushy bed to lay on the floor in another room alone. It could be said that perhaps Jaeda fared isolation even better than I did.

9. Thank God for Facetime.

   In the moments I didn’t even have the affection of my dog to quell my feelings of loneliness, Facetime was always there to give me to the kind of human connection only eye contact, facial expression, and a familiar voice can offer. To all the beloved friends who called to check in on me, or answered my calls where I had very little new and exciting to share, you know who you are, and you are appreciated.

10. There are some hidden gem christmas movies on Netflix.

    I watched more Christmas movies this year than I have in the past three years combined, thanks to Covid. As someone who is not all that fond of rewatching movies, especially those of the Hallmark variety, I was pleasantly surprised to find several new ones that were more than decent. At the top of my list were Lovehard, Let it Snow, A Knight for Christmas, A California Christmas and Klaus.

So there we have it. 10 Learnings from 10 days in Isolation. In the end, not all that miserable, and in many ways, rewarding. But would I willingly do it again? Probably not. I prefer my puzzles with a side of conversation. And I am running out of pajamas.

Have you had to isolate for covid? How did you kill the time?

Happy New Year,

Jordan xoxo

A Very Covid Christmas (again)- and 10 Things I Learned in Isolation

This Christmas I officially joined the covid club.  I still have no idea where I got it, although between teaching in person and a busy social life, there are several possibilities. I am very lucky, in that my symptoms were mild. I had a scratchy throat, and a light cough for a few days, but in all honesty if it was not covid times, I would have felt guilty taking off any more than a day of work for it. 

It started with feeling tired , and as a new teacher I didn’t really consider that a symptom, as much as an unavoidable way of life.  But then my throat started feeling weird.  I thought I was just dehydrated.  It wasn’t so much sore as it was scratchy.  Honestly it was only as I was sipping a beer in the distillery, feeling as if lacerations were being lit up as I swallowed the carbonated liquid that I started to make the connection. However, after two bouts of pretty bad colds/flus already this fall, I wasn’t super concerned it was covid.  I really just didn’t want to be sick in any kind of way in these weeks leading up to christmas.  

I went home, went to bed , thinking a good sleep would help.  Instead I was up half the night feeling feverish, hot and cold at the same time, with a pounding headache, and achy as if I had arthritis in my hips.  At 4:30 that morning I sent an email with my principal with typo laden plans explaining my absence that day.  

I woke up feeling much better.  My fever was gone (did I even have one in the first place? I wondered).  My throat felt much better, and my headache was mostly gone too.  I did have some phlegm and a cough, but it was much milder than the cough I had the last time I was sick, and that was not covid. 

 I somehow miraculously did not infect any member of my family, despite seeing them over the weekend and on the very day I started having symptoms, and for that I am eternally grateful.  I did, however, land my lovely roommate with Covid for the second time.  And unlike me, who luckily gets to leave my isolation the eve before Christmas eve, she only started having symptoms a few days ago and must spend Christmas on her lonesome until the 27th.  She isn’t holding it against me, and I’ve been showering her with early Christmas gifts including a delivery of Craig’s Cookies and an UberEats gift card, but I still feel awful to have thrown a wrench into her family Christmas plans. 

The most distressing part of this whole debacle is that I have to suffer the inconvenience of 10 days of isolation during the week of excitement and anticipation leading up to the 25th.  I missed several Christmas events, including the annual Christmas reunion dinner with my high school friend group, and our family Christmas on the 19th with cousins who live in BC was cancelled completely.  My hopes of sipping (chugging) mulled wine with my cousins watching our parents get equally as toasted were dashed. 

But as I am continuously reminded, it is just the times.  

I feel like I’m going through the ultimate 2020 rite of passage having covid.  In a fucked up kind of way, receiving my positive result from a PCR test almost felt like a golden ticket to Wonka’s factory-- something I had heard about, and always knew was a possibility, but never quite believed I would ever be the recipient.  It felt as if I was just hearing the term “Omnicom”  and gossip about Covid becoming a big “thing” again, when all of a sudden I had it. 

People are continuously fascinated by Covid.  It has this air of intrigue composed of both awe and fear around it, the virus equivalent of “He Who Must Not Be Named” (AKA Voldemort, for the non-potter-heads). When I got my test result, I contacted all the people I had seen the weekend leading up to it.  The owner of my pole studio sent out a message to those I had been in class with me letting them know they had been in contact with “a positive case.”  “Don’t worry!  The owner assured me.  I didn’t say it was you! I Kept it anonymous.  It was very kind of her to do that, but also, why do we have this attached shame complex to a positive test? Its not as if anyone conspires to get covid and then spread it to as many people as they can.  Its a virus that as a world, we are all fighting together.  

Friends reached out with the same questions:  

How are you?  

What are your symptoms?

How did you get it?

My  not very exciting responses were okay, fine, and no idea.  They were relieved I was okay,  but at the dame time there is a sense of disappointment. Like that’s it?  This is what we’ve been hiding from for close to 2 years? 

I get it.  But still, I am grateful that this, for me, is all covid was.  

My isolation companion, Jaeda

10 Things I learned in Covid Isolation

1.  Covid feels like a mild cold (and I thank being vaxxed for that.)

   I’ve been sick three times this fall/winter already, and each time my symptoms were much more severe than this.  Other than a short bout of feeling feverish in the middle of the night when I first started feeling off, covid felt no worse than a mild cold.  I had a scratchy throat for two days, and a very light cough and not a ton of energy for a few more after that.  However, by day 4 or 5,  I would’ve been back to my regularly scheduled life if what I had wasn’t covid.  

   I know some people might take this as proof that covid really isn’t  a big deal, and that there are unnecessary precautions and restrictions being made out of fear/ corruption/ ignorance etc…  But I am pretty confident that being double vaxxed probably had something to do with the very mild and manageable experience I had.  And, for what I am very grateful, keeping my parents and family, and students from not getting infected by me, considering I was in close contact with many people right up until the night I had my fever.  Yes, I got covid, BUT it could have been MUCH worse. 

2. It's very convenient to isolate in walking distance to family.

This fall, my grandfather moved into a care home, leaving his house right next to my family home empty, Even before I got my official positive test result, my parents invited me to do my isolation in this empty house so I would have room to sprawl out and also be nearby for them to help me out.  I know I am beyond lucky to have this convenient set up, but it was honestly a life saver.  And every home cooked meal that was lovingly delivered to my door did not go unappreciated. 

My Grandfather’s empty house where I spent the past 10 days in isolation

3. I will never again take for granted the opportunity to grocery shop in person. 

Grocery delivery services and Instacart are very convenient, and during my 10 days of isolation, they kept me well fed and well stocked. But as a grocery shopper, I am much more of an in-the moment impulse buyer of what looks good versus writing a list. I swear I spend longer navigating the instacart website, trying to rack my brain for what I want to eat for the next week versus walking the aisles and buying what looks yummy at a good price. I also felt denied the experience of food shopping in the days before christmas… Meandering the festive displays of chocolates and oranges and fresh figs as Christmas music blares through the aisles. People watching the festive folk grocery shopping in Santa hats and holiday sweaters , carts filled with things for entertaining like wheels of brie, giant panettone, and cartons of egg nog.  Maybe I am a bit of an odd duck, missing food shopping in this way but there's nothing like being locked indoors for an extended period that makes you miss these ordinary experiences of being human. 

4.  I am more introverted than I thought

At first, the prospect of having to isolate for 10 days sent me into a spiral of dread.  I hate being alone, I thought. I am an extrovert!  I need people.  Turns out I can be pretty content on my own with a puppy, a home pole studio, and a puzzle.   I was able to get lots of writing done, make several gifts for family, friends, and their dogs (hello, hand sewn bandanas) and watch anything I wanted without compromise.  Actually by dat 9, I was kind of wishing I had one more day of isolation to get a little bit more done before my time was up and I was thrown back into the mayhem of a family christmas.

5. I still remember the majority of every Taylor Swift song 

I love to sing,  but living in close quarters with a roommate, I never subjected her every often to my belting it out musical theatre style impromptu concerts.  In a big house on my lonesome, with Taylor Swift playing on my spotify, I didn't hold back.   Turns out I remember the obscure lyrics from obscure tracks on Red and 1984      just as well as I did back in 2010. 

6. Christmas cookies taste better when you can share them

Near the end of my isolation, when I figured I was mostly noncontagious, I started christmas baking, making dozens of beautiful cookies.  It felt nice to bake, but when you are sharing the finished result of a perfectly shaped sugar cookie or lightly whipped aquafaba meringue with none but yourself and your dog, the joy falls flat just a little.  I could've eaten oreos with my hot chocolate after that day of baking and been equally as satisfied, and created much less of a mess. 

7. The truest friends don’t forget about you when you are MIA (out of sight out of mind)

Despite my new discovery of an introverted side, it was really amazing to hear from friends throughout my isolation.  I totally get out of sight out of mind, and I hate to say I often fall into that pattern of interaction, especially with friends and family in different cities and provinces.  So when I was dropped off a covid care package from my extremely thoughtful long time friend, I felt loved and appreciated and cared for, and I think that itself made the entire isolation experience so much more endurable.  Even something as simple as the texts I received from various friends and family checking in on me, or saying hi in just a sentence or less were beautiful reminders of the connections I had in my life, and the friendships I do not take for granted.

covid care package from a dear friend <3

8. A walk does not need to be 5 kilometres

In isolation, technically you are not supposed to leave yourself.   In a very quiet street in the suburbs, I made an exception twice a day (morning and night) to venture out to walk my dog (masked) and keeping away from people.  My dog is 13. We do not go far and we do not go fast.  The furthest we ever go is barely 2 kilometres and it takes close to 45 minutes, with lots of breaks for sniffing things.  Usually however, it's closer to ½ a kilometre, to the park to walk through a woodlot and back .

Before getting covid, I had a pretty ingrained habit of getting at least 5 km in a day. Sometimes it was all at once. Sometimes it was a few kilometres to school, a few back, and then another few over lunch. Anything less felt well-- lazy.  After 10 days of slowing down to Jaeda’s senior citizen pace, I realize getting out for just a slow walk around the block can do just as much for my spirits and energy as a speedy 7 km loop around the city.  Also, I think having a dog as company on these walking ventures is also a big factor in the happiness level achieved. 

9. It's okay to walk zero kilometres a day.

Expanding on the last point a little more.  There were some days in my isolation where Jaeda was sore or the weather was rainy and miserable where it made no sense to break covid protocol and venture outside.  And while the first day this happened I felt pretty anxious , I did it and (obviously) nothing bad happened.  If anything, it felt freeing.  As much as it was a downer getting covid, especially at christmas time, in a way I am thankful that it forced me to face this very deceptive compulsion I have continued to hang onto.  As healthy of a  habit of walking every day is, the fact that I was doing it pretty compulsively was important for me to break. 

10.  After a long time of not being around other people, it starts to matter less what they might think.

In isolation I didn’t wear makeup for the whole 10 days.  I also did not wear anything but pajamas (and pole shorts) for most of that 10 days either.  At first, the exception was putting on a pair of leggings to go walk the dog.  But in the latter half of my isolation period, I found myself not caring enough to get up and change out of my pjs and would simply throw on a coat over my fuzzy plaid pj bottoms before leaving the house.  After doping it once, I did it every time.  I didn’t even feel silly.  I just felt like a girl walking her dog in her pajamas and I owned it. 

I came out of isolation on the eve of December 23rd, just in time to celebrate christmas with my family. In some ways, it was a very convenient circumstance of covid. But I am still happy its over.

Out of isolation, Christmas morning. Jaeda was happy too.

How was your covid christmas?

xoxo

Jordan

Exercise: Why More is Not Always Better (Lessons Learned from Sesamoiditis)

I am an active person. I love to walk run jump dance play do handstands and spin around poles. Ever since I was enrolled in toddler gymnastic classes, movement was in my blood. Being active throughout my life has blessed me with so much: Flipping around in acro and gymnastics classes gave me a sense of confidence and self-worth that didn’t come easy to me as a kid, and playing rep hockey for four years gifted me teammates that became like family. Running and yoga gave me an escape and a place to channel all the feelings that threatened to overwhelm me at times, and often still do.

In all these ways, movement has been a source a connection, therapy, and identity for me at various times of my life.

However, my relationship with movement and exercise has not been entirely positive.

For me, the biggest challenge I have with exercise is not motivation, or following through, or pushing myself . My problem is knowing when enough is enough, and when to ease off.

There is such thing as too much of a good thing— including exercise. Just because a walk a day is good, does NOT mean that more walks (or runs) a day is better. Just because a couple days of back-to-back training sessions makes me feel good doesn’t mean I never need a day off.

I tend to overdo things rather than under-do them. And this is the lesson I am learning right now, as I am icing my foot and resting it on the chair beside me as I write: sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is less.

Several years ago, when I had developed a highly restrictive mentality towards food, I developed a a similarly obsessive relationship with exercise.

Movement of all kinds became inundated in compulsion, stripped of all possible enjoyment and pleasure, and recalibrated as means of punishment, compensation, and control.

The “success” of any activity I did, from a gym workout to a walk was measured by how many calories it burned, how exhausted it made me, and how long I could endure it without taking rest. Running went from being an outlet to relieve my stress to the biggest source of stress and anxiety in my life. For a time, the only thing that felt worse than running was missing a run. I no longer had a choice.

However, since I had grown up being so active, and among a family of athletes and avid exercisers, the shift in my relationship to movement happened rather stealthily. People in my life were more concerned about my weight, and what I was eating rather than my exercise. However, looking back, I know that it was my mindset towards movement that was even more compulsive and rigid than my eating habits.

This was about 11 years ago, and as far as I have come in my relationship to exercise, I still struggle to find the balance at times.

These days I walk much more than I run, and really only do activities I enjoy like dance, pole, and yoga. And still somehow, I can overdo it.

This week I woke up with a swollen, bruised and throbbing foot— specifically the ball of my big toe. Getting out of bed, I quickly realized I couldn’t bear weight on it.

“What the hell?” At first, I had no idea what was wrong. My foot had felt perfectly fine the day before. So fine, in fact that I had gone for a 7 km walk, and did a barre class, a pole class, and a conditioning class. Not to mention a whole lot of snow shoeing and trekking through snowy cottage roads over the weekend.

Okay, maybe I was overdoing it, just a bit.

Several ice packs, one podiatry appointment, and a few x-rays later, I had a name for my extraordinarily swollen foot: sesamoiditis.

Apparently Sesamoiditis is an injury very commonly had by dancers and runners to the two sesamoid bones that make up the joint of the big toe. And while I am not a runner or a dancer, I do enough activities that put pressure on the balls of my feet that I have landed myself with this less-than-glamorous injury.

The prognosis? With proper rest and treatment, my lil’ sesamoids should make a full recovery.

The treatment? At least three weeks of no weight bearing. Meaning I am in a walking cast and to walk as little as possible and do everything I can to avoid weight on the ball of my big toe.

“And how’s that going?” You might be wondering, for someone whose innate love of movement still flirts with obsession?

Well, considering I have been getting outside for at least an hour walk and a pole class everyday during this lockdown (and often multiple of both) I’ve been doing pretty okay.

Day by day, it is actually rather nice to have that space in my day and my routine, and not trying to fit things in around a class or a walk before it gets dark or the weather turns.

However, its thinking about how this will play out for the coming weeks (and slow rehab back to my normal levels of activity after) that send me into a bit of an anxious tailspin.

In my bouts of anxiety, I turn to google, and find articles like “how to keep your fitness while injured” and “what not exercising does to your body.” And then I feel guilty for for doing essentially nothing but rest.

But this seemingly “bad break” (pun intended) is once again, the universe giving me what I need… even though I do not want to need it.

With little else to demand my attention during this lockdown, I’ve been spending many hours of my day doing - and thinking— exercise.

My walks of twenty minutes during my lunch break crept up to an hour. A couple classes a week became a couple classes a day. And as much as I was enjoying the movement, there was also a feeling of “should” beginning to creep in with the more I did. Slowly, walking anything less than an hour was unacceptable. One class a day became the bare minimum— and an intensive conditioning session beforehand to “warmup” was no longer optional.

The standard for my daily movement had been hiked up, and every day I had to jump a little higher to clear it.

Something had to give— and the universe chose the sesamoid bones in my right foot.

Rather than having a pity-party for myself, I am using this as an opportunity to continue to strengthen my recovery, and redefine my mentality to movement once again.

I am leaning in to my fear of not exercising to prove to my body and my brain that a couple weeks without so much as a few measly steps a day will not break me.

I might lose a little strength, perhaps even put on a couple pounds and get a little softer around the edges, but I have to trust that when I do resume some activity again, my body will return to its happy place.

…

“So why not just eat less?”

That thought crossed my mind too. But after years of restriction, I’ve caught on to what happens when you start fighting your body and hunger cues. it only makes us more fixated and focused on what we are denying ourselves.

And I also know that in order to heal an injury, our bodies require extra energy in order to regenerate and repair tissues. Not fuelling it with the appropriate energy and protein will only cause it to take those nutrients from my muscles, and prolong the recovery process.

So I fight the occasional waves of guilt about not having “earned” my food, and I am continuing to eat as I usually do: including lots of popcorn and pancakes, and all the peanut butter.

And you know what? It’s not even that scary. Not only is this stress fracture an opportunity for me to strengthen my recovery, but it has also allowed me to recognize just how far I have come. Even two years ago, when I severed the tendon of my big toe (on the same foot!), spending the subsequent month in a walking boot caused me much more guilt and anxiety than I am feeling now.

But perhaps that’s just it- I had to go trough a period of time without movement to realize that the anxiety and stress I was feeling is NOT necessary. I will be back on my feet soon enough, and the minimal changes that take place in my body are just that— minimal.

So here’s to “feet-up February.” I will be using the next few weeks to write more, read more, finally finish the pair of leg warmers I started knitting an embarrassingly long time ago, and continue eating all the foodz.

My pole, and all my other favourite forms of movement will be waiting for me whenever my foot is healed and ready—

—and even better, my mindset a little more free and little more flexible.

As the saying goes, “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

After a few weeks away from movement, I am looking forward to the first walk I take outside in the snow and the first spin around the pole I get to do first dance I do with a healed foot and a healthy mind.

I am always learning, testing my limits, and overstepping boundaries. As long as I continue to recognize what is too much and when to back off, I will continue to experiment with what I am capable of, what is sustainable, and where I can challenge myself to lean in to discomfort— including taking time off to regroup and refresh, and rest when I need it.

May this be a gentle reminder to anyone who needs it that our bodies are NOT machines or calculators. It. is. okay. to move a little less or a little more one day or one week or one month.

Every athlete has an off season, a time of little training and lots of rest. Mentally or physically, you might find yourself in need of some time off what ever kind of movement you usually do. Embrace it, enjoy it, and keep the big picture in mind.

Five years from now, the hiatus of time in which you were “out of routine” will NOT matter. You might not even remember it.

So stop wasting time worrying about what you cannot change, and embrace the challenge of leaning in to whatever life throws at you— chances are you will come out of it stronger, more resilient, and more content to face the next hurdle in your path.

Oh, and happy love day, celebrating all kinds of love, and loveliness.

xxoo

Jordan

Everything Happens For A Reason (A Story of Blood and Granola)

I have gone through enough life to start to recognize that nothing happens for no reason. 

Even the most difficult, trying, and painful situations, that may seem impossible to make sense of at the time, always seem to have some unexpected truth borne from the ashes- even if it is years later.

Life is mysterious, unpredictable, and chaotic.  But I still believe that there is significance and silver linings in every seemingly unexpected turn of events.  

My experience of life thus far is relatively short. But I can still recall several occasions where life threw something at me that felt like a blow, but ended up being a gift that I didn’t know I needed.  

The walking boot I had to wear for most of Spring 2019

One such gift was a severed extensor tendon in my big toe. 

It was May 2019.  A couple years since in the worst of my eating disorder, and well into recovery… Mostly. I was eating regularly, flexibly, going out with friends, not over-exercising. 

However, my brain was still “hooked” on several compulsions and behaviours, and I was still operating under a huge fear of further weight gain.  I managed this fear through movement. 

While I was no longer working out for hours at the gym or running for kilometres on end, I was making every effort to maximize my activity everyday.  I was walking everywhere, taking the long way whenever possible, and even running a couple kilometres if the distance was longer than fit my time frame. I was doing yoga every morning, and often some other form of conditioning or strength training exercise in the evening if I wasn’t out walking.

It was never excessive in time or intensity, but the discomfort of being too sedentary in a day remained a lingering attachment of the days when it was.

The injury resulting from a jar of granola

I was frustrated.  In so many ways I felt “recovered”- except this need to walk and move.  And I was still not getting a monthly cycle, so my hormones were not up and running properly yet.

However, spring and the sunny weather was just ramping up, and the urge to join the legions of walkers and runners taking over the sidewalks was only mounting.

Then came a freak accident involving a jar of granola. After a late night of dancing and drinking at a wedding, I was at home, starving for breakfast. Wanting something fast and easy, I decided to throw together a big bowl of fruit and granola.

Somehow as I was grabbing the jar of granola off the shelf it slipped out of my hand and went crashing onto the floor (yes, I was hungover). 

Somehow, a piece of glass had broken in one very long shard, that landed diagonally across my foot as it shattered on the tile.  My foot was swimming in blood, glass, and granola.  

I’ll skip ahead a bit. 

At the hospital, I received 14 stitches to repair the severed tendon, a plaster cast, a set of crutches with the orders I could not bear weight on it for several weeks.  I was told that if I applied too much pressure that the stitches could break and the tendon would sever again.  

Suddenly, I was faced with one of the greatest challenges I had yet in recovery: I was being forced to be sedentary. My fear of not walking enough had become a reality of being unable to walk at all.  

Who knew granola could be so dangerous?

At the time, I couldn’t understand why the hell this was happening.  I blamed the freak nature of the accident, cursed my clumsiness, and moped in misery and frustration. 

However, I was told repeatedly by doctors to continue to nourish myself well, and how I still needed ample protein and energy in order for the tendon to strengthen and repair. 

So I had no choice, but to eat as I would normally, even though I was doing no movement that helped my brain justify the calories. 

And it was hard, the first week. 

But then it got easier.  I realized I could eat, and rest, and nothing drastic happened. 

After a few weeks I started to enjoy being able to sit around and chat with my roommates instead of walking across the city after work. 

It was freeing to read a book out on the porch, and still have a snack before dinner. 

And for the first month since the New Year, I got my period. My body was functioning even healthier than it was while exercising.

Yeah, the recovery process of healing that tendon sucked.  But now, along with the scar on my toe, I have been left with a greater sense of freedom regarding my relationship to movement, to my body, and ultimately, my intuition.

I still enjoy being active, but if there is a day that it doesn’t quite fit my schedule, or my frame of mind, I can go without.

While stillness is not always my first choice, it does not instill me with the same fear or dread. I know I can allow myself to rest, and more than that, periods of rest are healthy.    

In all honesty, If I hadn’t been forced into those months of stillness, I probably would have never been able to sit long enough to start this blog. 

It’s hard to dedicate time to hours of writing and posting when you’re compulsively walking everywhere.  

I still have the scar.

I’ve heard there are creams and oils to put on it, to make it disappear. I have yet to use any, because I really don’t mind it.  It remains a nice little token of the lesson I had to learn through a mason jar of granola.  

This is just one story of how life gifts you with something you need, even if you don’t know you want it. And the more of life I am living, the more I am realizing how often even the most uncomfortable or seemingly unfortunate of events ends up gifting us with some golden lesson or opportunity down the road.

Maybe what that is becomes apparent in the next month, or week, or year. Or maybe not until after you have lived your life time.

But it is comforting to think that in this big wide universe of ours, there may be some reason or meaning behind the chaos. I am not claiming to know anything.

But I will continue to embrace the idea that whatever life throws at me, I can handle it— and I will be stronger for it.

What lessons has life thrown at you?

xoxo

-Jordan

A Healthy Relationship with Exercise? (It’s More than How You Move- It’s How You Feel)

Too much of anything may not be good for you. Even yoga.

Exercise is healthy. It’s hard to argue otherwise.

The measurable and well-studied benefits of regular exercise are many: strengthening our bones, improving our cardiovascular systems, increasing our muscular strength and endurance, reducing risks of cancer, stroke, and other diseases, boosting our immune systems, and alleviating mental stress and anxiety.

If exercise is so darn good for you, the more the better, right?

Not quite. Just like many things in life, there comes a point when too much takes a negative toll on a person, on the body as well as the mind.

That is why exercise is so much more than the types and amount of movement that you do.

A healthy relationship to exercise is largely determined by your mindset towards it, and in turn, your relationship to your physical body, and ultimately, to yourself.

When Exercise Becomes an Addiction

I am somebody who for a longtime did NOT have a healthy relationship with exercise. I was fit, and athletic, and often praised for my discipline and the physique it got me.

However, I did not exercise from a place of joy or pure desire to move— I exercised to appease the voices in my head, to punish myself, to compensate or negate calories, to meet a time or distance or other number goal, or even to just match the movement I had done the previous day. Exercise was compulsive, obsessive, or excessive, and sometimes all of these at once.

Movement should be enjoyable and intuitive. And coming at it from a place of self-loathing and shame made that relationship impossible.

For the many years I was anorexic, exercise was my purge. I didn’t throw up, but I ran until I felt like I would. I had just as many rules around burning calories as I had around consuming them. A day off the gym or a workout cut ten minutes early erupted in unrelenting anxiety and guilt that would only ebb after overcompensating with my exercise the next day. Fasted cardio was my drug of choice. It was an adrenaline high, that I for so long mistook for enjoyment. Now I realize it was simply my cortisol sky-rocketing, since I had no other energy form to power me through those workouts.

After years of unhealthy, obsessive exercise, and a break from exercise altogether, I can now truly say that never again do I want to wake up feeling chained to any “should” or “must” or “have-to” or other arbitrary rule. 

I am in no way against exercise. And for most people, of course exercise is important for health. I genuinely love being active— not chained-to-an-eliptical-active- but active as in moving my body in ways that feel intuitive and respectful of its strengths and its limits.

These past few months, yoga, and other forms of movement have become very much part of my morning routine.  I was loving it, starting the day a little bit sweaty and a little more fluid, and I was thriving.  Wake up, make a cup of tea, write in my journal, meditate, and then ease into a sweet and slow flow to my very eclectic yoga playlist.  Then I would lie on my mat or the grass or wherever I was in shavasana-bliss for however long before ambling into the kitchen for breakfast.  It was great.  Until it wasn’t.

Resetting my Relationship with Exercise

It was a few weeks ago I suppose that I started to notice an odd, uncomfortably familiar feeling of anxiety upon waking up.  I would lie in bed, feeling slightly paralyzed by a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.  It was hard to get up. I would feel guilty staying in bed, lazing this early part of the day away, but I also didn’t want to do the thing that my brain was now telling me that I had no choice but to do— yoga.  

You may snort at this. Y-o-g-a.  The most gentle, healing, restorative, spiritual, safe form of movement there supposedly is.  And yet here I was, feeling the same compulsive anxiety towards yoga that I used to feel before fasted HIIT cardio.  Just leave it to anyone with a history of anorexia to turn yoga into an exercise obsession. I have nothing against yoga or hiit cardio for that matter. But I do take issue with doing any form of movement from a place of fear or inadequacy. 

I don’t think it is ever a good thing to drag yourself to do any form of exercise for the sake of avoiding the anxiety or negative feelings that will come from not doing it. And I know this is very counter- intuitive for a lot of people. 

In fitness and athletic culture, the mantra is often that there is “no such thing as doing too much.” Fitspo accounts are filled with posts and messages like “Go Big or Go Home”, “the only bad workout is the one you didn’t do”, and “push until it breaks you.”  The prevalence and pervasiveness of these messages has effectively normalized their extremeness. 

We start to believe that in order for exercise to “count”, we need to be begging for mercy by the end of it. And realistically, what human being would wake up every day genuinely looking forward to that? And yet, many of us continue to commit to gruelling fitness regimes and daily workouts when we have no desire to do so other than to get it done.

Even you reading this right now might be wondering why anyone would bother exercising if they only did it when they “felt like it.” I thought the same way. After years of pushing myself, never ending a run until a certain number of kilometers or ending a workout until I had burned a certain number of calories, exercising through injury, in extreme heat, in pouring rain, rescheduling and cancelling on friends and events to not miss a workout, I thought there was no other way to think. 

None of it felt good.  Exercise never felt good.  But not doing it, missing that workout, felt unbearable. 

Finding Balance

Its taken me a long time to get where I am now with my relationship to exercise. 

Jaeda is very intuitive with her rest days.

It took giving up running when I started recovery, and only beginning to test out running again now, three years later. 

It took cancelling gym memberships, and attending yoga classes, and going for walks with other people so that I wasn’t tempted to run while on them. 

It took deleting step-count apps and calorie counters, and walking away from conversations that made me feel triggered about my “break” from exercise and loss of identity as a runner. 

It’s taken a lot of trial and error since then as well. 

On many occasions, I’ve convinced myself I’ve had long enough a break, and I was ready to start adding in more exercise.  I’d try going for a couple runs, do a workout at a hotel gym, get a yoga membership, only to be sucked back in and feeling chained to whatever form of movement I was experimenting with.

Slowly, the compulsiveness has lessened. I can do occasional yoga and other movement classes now without feeling like I need to sign my life away with a membership. I can go for a long walk and spontaneously have it turn into a run without (usually) feeling like I need to run it the next day.

This year, I found my way to pole, a passion that had allowed me to develop a new relationship towards movement and my body, working towards goals that have nothing to do with numbers or aesthetics, but requiring strength and flexibility. 

I haven’t been able to do it since the studios across the province closed back in March, and I’ve been missing it like crazy.

However, being forced to take this time off has allowed me to see all the ways in which my mindset has shifted, as well as some of the places where I still have some thoughts to rewire.

Especially this past month, and the stuckness I was feeling with the whole morning yoga habit.

I’ve made great strides, and I am proud of how far I have come. But I am aware that I still have a tendency (and likely always will to some degree) to fall into patterns of obsession and compulsion when it comes to exercise.

However, what I have learned in these years of recovery is the ability to recognize and identify these patterns before they take over. 

I love yoga.  I want to be able to get out of bed every morning, jump onto my mat, and do a vigorous vinyasa practice if that’s what I feel like. 

I want to be able to go for a long sweaty run in the evening to my favourite playlist.

I want to join my friends in trying out a new bootcamp class or do a tough mudder or group triathlon. 

But I also want to be able to wake up, roll out of bed, and do whatever I feel like that is NOT exercise.  Or have my morning movement be a walk to the park barefoot with my dog instead of pounding the pavement with my runners.

I want to have the choice.  I want the freedom to move.  I want exercise to be a want and NEVER a should. 

Forest walks are a great way of getting out of your head and into your body— intuitive movement at its finest.

And that is why I took this week off movement— to prove to myself that I can not exercise for a week and that nothing bad happens.  I’m three days in, and to be honest, I woke up this morning and I wanted to flow.  I had that feeling of desire to move, and NOT compulsion. But, I made myself tea, and sat myself down outside to write anyways. 

Next week, I can do all the yoga I want (or not!).  But this week, I am committed to the goal of rewiring my brain about exercise and movement of all kinds, even yoga. 

As the saying goes “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

How will I feel when this week is over?  Hopefully better than I did going in.  l will write more about my week off and what happened in my next post.

In the meantime, I’ll just be here, sipping my tea, doing my best to throw myself into every other passion and project of mine that is not movement.  How’s your relationship with exercise? 

Sometimes It’s a good idea to not just ask what you are doing, but how you feel about it…  

Stay golden. And remember- there are so many more pivotal and pressing things happening in our world right now than the exercise you did or did not do.  

-Jordan xoxo

5 Things To Do Everyday to stay Sane (and Balanced) During Isolation

As this period of isolation drags on, a lot of us are starting to feel some discomfort at being cooped up in our houses.  The novelty of being able to wear your pajamas all day and binge netflix may be starting to wear off.  Even the biggest introverts and homebodies may be finding themselves craving a change of scenery other than their own four walls.  But the truth is, social distancing is far from over.  And in order to make it through with our mental health intact, we need to do MORE than just cope.  

Right now, I am still working as a teacher, but I have had to adapt from chasing five year olds around a classroom, to teaching online. Now my day involves sitting at my computer to create and upload assignments, record and edit videos, and communicate with students and families. 

Between this work, the blog, and the online ABQ course I am currently in, I have found myself to be spending most of my waking hours on my computer-- something that I never did before. This is still taking some getting used to.  I’m noticing the days that I spend the majority of it in front of the screen, the more “blah” I feel by the time evening comes around, regardless of how productive I have been.  

Structured Days and Mental Transitions

Even those working from home who are doing similar desk work that they may have before have still felt a toll on their mental health and energy levels from the change in environment. Just the act of dressing in proper clothes, out of the house, and to the office where you are commune with your coworkers inserts very real frames and borders in our day that help us transition from home to work (and everywhere in between), so that we are more present and engaged in each environment.

Working from home, we are missing those physical aspects, from the coffee run on your way to work, to packing your lunch or your gym bag, or tapping your presto card as you fly into the subway, that cue a mental shift, transitioning us from whatever we were doing or thinking before, to the moment at hand.

A change in environment can really make all the difference to productivity

For myself, whenever I had a big chunk of writing or other work I needed to get done, I would head out to a coffee shop (remember those?). The price of a fancy soy matcha latte was always worth the couple hours of uninterrupted state of flow I would enter, and come out with a much greater quantity and quality of writing than I would ever be able to accomplish at home.

Simply the act of leaving my house with my backpack, and sitting down at a counter that was not the same one that I ate my breakfast at that morning, with no fridge or dog or random task to distract me, allowed me to fully immerse myself in my work— even if it took a few minutes to settle in.

Making the Most of Days at Home

To recreate some of that sense of structure, some people talk about waking up, putting on real clothes, maybe even doing some makeup before getting to work in their day.  However, many of us can’t quite be bothered enough to do all that-- especially if they’re not working a regular job at the moment. That being said, I still think it is important to incorporate a few different things into your day that help keep you feeling sane, balanced, and in a state of flow, regardless of what you have on your schedule.  

Here are five things that I do everyday, to keep my sanity and stay in flow:

1. Mindful Movement

Before this quarantine, I rarely meditated.  I used to quite a bit during my YTT, but since then, I’ve largely fallen off the wagon.  When I had thirty minutes in the morning before heading to work, I figured it was more productive to do an asana yoga practice.  However, with few external limits on time, I decided to try taking up a seated meditation practice again.  I’ve now been doing it every day for over a month, and I’m hooked. 

Some mornings, I sit for five minutes, and sometimes, up to thirty, Usually, I last about 15 or 20 before rolling into some gentle, flowing movement to the soundtrack of my favourite yoga playlist.  I’ll move however slowly or intensely as feels good that morning. 

Sometimes it’s gentle side bends and lolling around on the floor, and other mornings, it’s sun salutations, warrior poses and a couple planks. 

I do my best to keep it mindful, flowy and intuitive-- not counting reps, or holds, or anything taking me out of the breath and into a more traditional workout that spikes cortisol.

2. Journal

Every morning, I write in my journal. If I have lots of thoughts swarming my mind, or I am feeling a little meh and don’t quite know why, I just word vomit.  No filter, I pour whatever is going through my mind onto my paper. I write until I feel my thoughts start to shift, which looks a little different each day, whether it's after a half page or three. While I don’t always write in such depth everyday, every single morning, I take the time to make a list of three goals or tasks I want to complete.

Goal setting journal from Lametto Rose

I’ve been using the 3 Journal that my brother gifted me for Christmas. I love its simplicity, and the space it has at the end of every week to reflect on what you have accomplished.

The first one is usually something for work, whether its creating lessons, or going through assignments. 

The second is often something due for my online course, a blog post I want to write, or something else of productive nature.

The third is usually not so pressing, I could technically push it to the next day, but accomplishing it that day would be realistic, and rewarding.  Perhaps it is going to the grocery store,  cooking or baking something to feed you for a couple of meals, or even an act of self care such as reading a couple chapters of the novel that’s on your bed stand or doing a zoom class of some kind. 

I could add lots more to this list, but I like to keep it at three, because it makes it feel very doable to check them all off, and forces me to prioritize as I write what to dedicate my time and energy to that day.  And that way, if I get everything done, I can relax into doing whatever else it is I want to do without feeling like I am not being “productive.”  

3. Get Outside 

one of my daily walks with my fur baby.

Regardless how much stuff on my computer I need to get done, I make it a priority to get outside everyday, whether it’s taking my dog to the park or a longer excursion that takes most of the afternoon.  If it’s nice out, I will try to incorporate being outside with as much of my day as possible.

On warm sunny mornings, I find myself doing my meditation and yoga outside.  If the glare isn’t bad, I will even set up my laptop or ipad in a sunny spot to do some writing.  Or I will take my breakfast or lunch and eat it outside. 

It sounds so little and so simple, but I feel immensely lighter after spending some time out in fresh air.  If you have the time, go for a walk, however long you have, without rushing yourself (or run if that's what you prefer!). 

In my little patch of the suburbs, it’s pretty amazing to see the little ways my community has made an effort to reach out and support each other: there are childrens’ art work in windows facing the street, signs and white ribbons tied around trees in support of front line workers, and motivational chalk drawings on driveways and sidewalks, spreading messages of hope and positivity. 

And even while staying acceptably distanced, it really fosters a sense of community and connectedness to witness others out and about just like I am, whether its on a bike, with a wagon of kids, or a happy dog on a leash.  It’s a comforting reminder that we are all in this together. 

4. Connect (Do Something Social) 

I try to chat with at least one  friend or loved one everyday.  Sometimes its over zoom or facetime, but mostly, I will hit two birds with one stone and have a long phone call while walking in the neighbourhood.

It’s so easy to go days without talking to anyone besides the people we are living with. Sometimes I feel like I have to push myself to commit to a phone date or group virtual meetup. However, I always always ALWAYS, hang up (or sign off) feeling happy and grateful for making the time to be social.

Also, I am trying to be better at keeping up with texting and group chat conversations. Admittedly, I definitely fall into the bad texter category, having every intention to respond to a message “in a bit” and letting it end up in the graveyard of unread and unopened messages in my inbox.

Before covid, it was a little easier to beg forgiveness, seeing many of these people in person, but now that in-person encounters are no longer the norm, I can’t use the rationale. So if I get a message, I try to respond right away… ideally. If you are my friend, reading this and rolling your eyes, I am sorry and I love you. Please get on my case!

Check out my post on how to fight loneliness during quarantine for some other ideas of how to stay connected.  

5. Create (State of Flow)

for me, this usually comes in the form of writing.   Oftentimes, my morning journaling becomes an act of creating all in itself.   Creativity also seeps into my movement practice, whether its flowing intuitively to the music on my yoga-inspired playlist, or having a spontaneous dance party with a whole lot of  drama and feeling in my basement. 

Exercise your right-side brain through doing something creative each day.

It can also be painting, drawing, playing in a instrument, making a recipe, writing poetry or a story, taking pictures, posting on social media something of a little meaning, or anything else that moves you from a place of consumer to creator. 

Instead of allowing life to just happen to you, make something of your own doing.  In whatever form or outlet that takes for you, let go of expectations, allow yourself to fall into a state of flow, and let whatever comes up, come out and into the world. 

Creativity is NOT a gift or talent that is reserved only for “artists.” Rather, creativity is a muscle, that can be strengthened and honed through regular practice. Making a commitment to exercising your creative muscle, tapping into the right hemisphere of your brain, may increase your resilience, your productivity, and your mental and emotional well-being.

Creative tasks allow us to enter a state of meditative focus and flow, and in turn allow us greater insight into our thoughts and internal feelings that we may have difficulty processing or expressing otherwise.

Putting These Things into Practice

How you go about tackling each of these aspects is up to you-- maybe you improvise a little, finding ways to incorporate each one as the day goes on, or maybe you pencil each in at different, specific times, if you think you may need a little more motivation.  Whatever you choose, be realistic. 

Still spending my days in my PJ’s doing “unproductve things” like lazing around with Jaeda

Think about how you usually feel at different times of the day.  If you know you are ready for a nap by 4 PM, it may NOT be the hour to schedule in exercise.  If you have been staying up late watching Modern Family every night, committing to meditate as the sun is coming up also might be stretching it.  

For myself, I haven’t been holding myself to any firm schedule.  When I wake up, I think of my day in terms of chunks, and then I think of what I need to do and in which “chunk” it might fit best.

For example, I do my lesson planning in the morning after breakfast, go for a walk and phone a friend when its the sunniest time of the afternoon, and spend a few hours before dinner writing and blogging.

This sounds quite productive, and many days I feel quite accomplished by the time I’m sitting in front of another Game of Thrones episode with my family.

However, there are still several hours of the day that I am doing whatever little tasks or less-productive activities catch my interest— from doing the laundry I’ve been putting off for weeks, watching netflix, doing handstands around the house, and more often than I care to admit, mindlessly scrolling social media.

But what can I say?

I am human, and this pandemic has shaken all of us out of our routines. We are all getting used to the new normal. And in light of that, we should be giving ourselves and each other the time and space to adjust and adapt to whatever that looks like for each of us.

What has happened to your daily routine during Covid-19?

What commitments have you made, or do you want to make, to help you adjust to this new normal?

Keep on keeping on,

Jordan

xoxox