Trauma is a thief.
Trauma stole a lot of things from me, and recovering the things I love to do has been a long road. I did take a huge step forward today though, and for the first time in about five years was able to go to a Jazzercise class.
That’s right, Jazzercise.
Before I moved for graduate school I lived in a small town that had a very active Jazzercise center. I worked out there 7-11 hours a week, often doing back-to-back classes. When I moved I started back again at a new center, but my car wreck was about three months later, and that combined with a coworker I didn’t care for joining combined to make it not something I wanted to do anymore. It took nearly three years in therapy to figure out why I was so adverse to exercise, and another 8 months until I could start to change that. Today was my first class back in years, and although it was hard (not the least because it’s a high-intensity workout and I had to stay in the slow lane), I was able to keep bringing myself back to the present, stay focused on the instructor’s cues and make it through the class without crying or bailing out, which I thought I might do.
Somewhere in my mind I enjoyed it and had fun, but I think it’ll be a work in progress to get back to fully enjoying it.