Class. Work out. Class. Workout. Class. Work out some more. That was my college schedule. Work out. Get kids ready for school. Use cleaning the house as a work out. Pick-up kids from school. Clean up some more. This was my stay-at-home school year schedule. The summers just added a schedule of events for the kids following my workouts and house-cleaning which I used as additional workout opportunities as I sweat through sweeping, mopping, cleaning bathrooms and all rooms daily. Addiction? How could that be?
At 5’3″, I had gotten down to 97 lbs in college, weighing myself daily, determined that I could lose another pound the next day. My class schedule changing had momentarily saved me from continuing on with the challenge. Looking back now, I may have well worked my way into “disappearing” had it not been the change in my schedule that forced me to redirect.
Some might think working out and cleaning the house are far from being called addictions. However, I personally know that “habits” is the euphemism for addictions.
habit– noun
a settled or regular tendency or practice, especially one that is hard to give up.
addiction– noun
The fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.
My habits were good ones. They kept me fit and my home clean at all times. Why would I dare think to change or steer away from any of what I was doing? They were good for me. Of course they were… up until I couldn’t stop to a point where my habits controlled my schedule. They controlled me.
Looking back, undoubtedly my “good” habits led to silent addictions, the unheard of or unspoken ones. I was absolutely addicted to my daily activities of working out or cleaning. They became my MUST DO rituals. If I did not follow my daily, laid out plan, I found myself agitated and out of control. I was not happy with being “unsuccessful”. I felt unfulfilled. I had to follow through. I needed to follow through. Otherwise, I failed me.
I know now it was easy to form my habits into addictions. They were at first my way of running from two things. My workouts during college were a way for me to run away from my studies and the fears of actually finishing and graduating one day. My addiction for cleaning was running away from my memories of living in my grandmother’s rat-infested dilapidated home and the cockroaches and fleas that overwhelmed many homes to follow thereafter.
If I worked out or cleaned, my mind would be too tired or too busy to think. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time, I wore myself out, running from my thoughts as I dozed to sleep only to wake to the thoughts as I hurried to hit the gym or clean the house some more.
What fixed me? Ironically, having more children. I continued my silent “running” up until I had my third one. She was my angel that had put a stop to my madness. Little did my third child know that it was she, having passed the two-hand limit of having one child in each hand that drove me to realize I couldn’t keep up with hitting the gym and cleaning the house with my daily ritual of, no exaggeration, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, dusting, cleaning the bathrooms, while constantly making sure there was not a dish or utensil to be found in the kitchen or sink. I was beyond ridiculous.
The thought of me opening up the door to a surprise visitor who may just see one thing out of place behind me standing at the door mortified me.
By the time my first three were all school-age children, a neighbor had influenced me to believe that I should begin my career as a teacher since I had already been certified.
As a career mother now, I have to laugh, quite in disbelief how crazed I was in following such a daily ritual with my workouts and daily house-cleaning.
I had one breakdown where I found myself throwing all clean clothes from the laundry basket in the air simply because I had discovered one dirty sock in the pile. I recall instantly becoming belligerent as I threw handfuls at a time in the air. My husband immediately ran upstairs, running to my rescue, thinking to save me from whatever it was attacking me.
Upon realizing that there was no other than my own disturbed spirit, he closed the door and sat me down. It was at that moment when he pointed out that if I did not LET GO of what I no longer could control, I would end up going crazy. He actually told this as a matter of consequence seeing how I had reacted to one dirty sock in a pile of clean clothes. This was not the first time I had emotional ups and downs. Every time I felt I did not get to hit the gym or check off that one more thing off my cleaning task, I was agitated, in complete unrest. The only remedy would be to get to the gym as soon as I could or finish cleaning whatever it was I had not done (that day… the same task I checked off the day before). When I stayed home, EVERYTHING (to my endless efforts and sweat) was under control- I had it in my schedule checked off to prove I did. The workouts led to the weight losses; the ritual cleaning led to a form of disorder that was quite obsessive-compulsive. If I somehow fell off track, I was silently losing it. Regaining routine was my fix.
My changing life around me was making me lose control. Little could I see that it was actually the other way around. My workout regimen and obsession to keep the house clean had taken control of me. My changing life broke those chains.
I was free. Child number three broke my two-hand limit, grew up to start school, led me to the desire of starting my career as a teacher, putting an end to my habits of ritually working out and cleaning. It was over. The good habits turned bad to my silent addictions had become a past. I had essentially been healed, never realizing at all I was even sick.
Nowadays, it feels good to find the time to hit the gym or mop the floor at least once a week. However, it feels good to not have to trick my mind, my heart, or my spirit to think that old thinking of I HAVE TO or else I have failed. I no longer wake-up thinking I will feel better once I hit the gym. That dust ball I see now and then? Familiar to me now. That planner requiring me to check-off EVERYTHING I had to do each day? No more. My weight, my home, both decent. I am good with both. Most importantly, I am good at arriving to say to myself, I did not ever or have ever failed me.
