Are you crisis-proof?

Hmmm.... it seems that Fearful Jane has been around for the last few weeks, taking up a LOT of space in my head.

On 14 March, I decided to take a giant step. I put my toe into the water and tested what it feels like to embark on another career journey. For the last eight years, I have run my own business. It has been eight years of dizzying highs and soul-crushing lows. Building a business from nothing and then holding the reins as it gains incredible momentum is a crazy ride. Looking around me, I think I've come to the realisation that it's not a ride I want to be on anymore.

This sense of uncertainty about the future and what it holds has allowed Fearful Jane to take over for a number of weeks now. She is terrifically scared about what comes next, about whether this is a sign of failure and about whether working for someone else is going to be easier or harder than being self-employed.

Unfortunately, Bikini Jane has been pushed right out of the picture over the last few weeks. Her dreams and ambitions have been brushed aside to make room for all this anxiety.

I'd really like to know how other people compartmentalise their lives so that one aspect doesn't adversely affect  another... it seems I need to build a wall around Bikini Jane, so that nothing else can get to her, and so she can maintain her space in my head.

How does everyone else deal with dilemmas while they're trying to get things in order with health and fitness? It feels like the disorder is bigger than the order right now... but I'm going to try and fix it. Hopefully, I can create a small amount of order, inside those walls that I'll build around Bikini Jane's headspace.

Flip The Bird

Where did the last couple of weeks go?? I'll tell you where they went...up and down a zillion stairs and across tonnes of beach sand! I've been Bootcamping.

I'm not as fit as everyone else (in fact, I'm ridiculously slow inside this fat suit). However, I have broken through a confidence barrier that has stopped me from giving things a go in the past. Up until now, I really was a mess whenever I thought I would have to reach outside my comfort zone. Always thinking that someone would be watching and sniggering at my feeble attempts, Nervous-Nelly Jane would take hold and simply refuse to do anything that might attract the wrong kind of attention.

I have now realised that there is a giant chasm between what is fiction (inside Nervous-Nelly Jane's head) and what is fact.

So, here are the facts:

1. No-one else gives a flying fig if I'm puffing and snorting up and down the beach... in fact, I get a lot of encouragement from others in the group and from complete strangers, who urge me to keep going.

2. By giving it a go, I might actually inspire someone else to give it a try

3. I'm old enough to cope if ever someone does jeer at me from a passing car. I'm nearly 40 and, at this age, I can flip the bird pretty well ;)

Bootcamp? Bring It!

I've hauled the fat suit off to Bootcamp! After reading so many wonderful stories about 'Bootcamp' and how everyone enjoys it so much, I decided to grab a friend and drag her along with me to our see our local 'Sarge' so that we could both get whipped into gear. Upon hearing the plan, my nearly-65-year-old mother announced that she was going to join us.... oh the shame of having your arse kicked by a pensioner....
 

Driving to the beach for our first session, and the mood was, well, 'tense' to say the least. I was downright terrified, to be completely honest, and extremely nervous about whether my life insurance cover would still apply if I happened to pop my clogs on the beach. I could see the grizzly headline in the paper: Woman Dies After Lungs Explode!

Let's face it - I have never been an athlete. As a child, despite being a normal weight, poor co-ordination and the sheer panic in my eyes when anyone mentioned 'sport' had always resulted in being  picked last for teams. That's dead last. Even after the chubby kid with glasses, a back brace and one leg...

Anyway, Nervous-Nelly Jane had to nick off. There was going to be no place for her on Bootcamp, quivering like a leaf. We had to call on Bring-It! Jane, who promptly kicked Nervous-Nelly Jane fair up the arse and took over.

Now, the fat suit is one heavy MOFO, so it was still hard going, even with Bring-It! Jane at the helm. But we did it... and we even went back for a second serve yesterday.... and we're going again tomorrow....

As Mish says (oh, and so does Bring-It! Jane)... Just Friggin' Do It!!

Want to find your closest Bootcamp? Check it out here.

PMT vs. GST

OK, so PMT Jane has arrived for the month of March. We always greet her on the waning moon, when she comes storming through the door with her teeth clenched, ready to rip someone's lungs out.... and we patiently await her departure, when we can resume a peaceful existence.

PMT Jane is not a very happy camper at the best of times but when she's faced with illogical ASIC requests,  BAS horror, PAYG, GST, help lines that are 'busy' and messages announcing that 'your call is unlikely to be answered this century', she really primes herself to dispatch someone.

It is not a pleasant feeling in this body this morning. Since she arrived, it seems that every email, every contact with the outside world, releases new homicidal tendencies.

Something needs to change and PMT Jane is on her soapbox, strongly declaring that the Australian-Tax-Cluster-F**k is the first thing that needs to go. As she says, why, oh WHY do we have to pay such ridiculous taxes and why, oh WHY do we have to work with accountants to help us figure it all out?

Listen, if you're an accountant, I applaud you for your attention to detail, your ability to work in a field that no-one else would touch with a barge pole and your intrinsic ability to count beans. But please ask yourself, is there no way that this could all be done, without my input? Is it at all possible that an accountant fairy could just pay a visit once in a while, file all the pieces of paper, find all the necessary receipts, keep accurate records and, most importantly, not ask me any stupid questions? I am a business owner, not a bloody Magic 8-Ball. (He or she would have to work for free as well - I'm sick to death of paying everyone.)

That said, let's talk 12WBT. PMT Jane is a pretty tough character when she's mad but can easily flip to a big  jelly mess and bawl her eyes out, without notice. Either way, she's not exactly friggin' stable. Now that Stuff-Your-Face Jane has been banned from showing up during emotional peaks and troughs, PMT Jane is looking for a new mate.

Without Stuff-Your-Face Jane here to push all those negative emotions down, PMT Jane might just have to satisfy her blood lust and actually murder someone. If an accountant dies under suspicious circumstances, you'll know who did it.

P.S. If your name is Nicole and you sent a message through to me yesterday via the Contact Bikini Jane link,  I know you work with accountants and that you could, in fact, be an evil accountant yourself!....In any case, thank you for your message - I'm glad you had a laugh and that you're enjoying this blog while you're at work (which leads me to believe that you're probably not an accountant). Another thing that is driving PMT Jane to distraction is that I can't reply to you personally because the STUPID CONTACT FORM didn't send your email address to me :/ Grrr. I will need to fix it. Have a great day, Nicole.

Victim Schmicktim!

Ok, so Woe-Is-Me Jane has packed her bags and left, in search of some other soul to inhabit because she's really not welcome here any more.

Always moaning and bitching about something, she loved to play the victim and always had a mountain of reasons for why the weight just kept creeping up.

Childhood traumas, divorced parents, a broken marriage, sadness, depression, anxiety. Really, anything from  total crisis to mild boredom and Woe-Is-Me Jane would claim it as an excuse to let Stuff-Your-Face Jane out and allow Lazy Jane to sit around, staring at the wall.

Well, she's pissed off somewhere else now and it's really good to feel like the power is back here, internally, rather than with something external. Now that she's gone, nothing else is in control of my actions. I can choose to feel however I want to feel. I can choose to do whatever I want to do. That's an amazing realisation. How I choose to deal with problems is completely up to me - and me alone. I could choose to throw a trantrum, I could choose to lock myself away in solitude, I could choose to go to bed for a week. I could choose to eat everything in sight, I could choose to go for a walk, I could choose to run. Whatever. The point is, it's 100% my choice. No-one holds a gun to my head so I have total free will to choose every one of my actions and reactions.

Therefore, from this day forward, I choose not to react to any heightened emotion by sending Stuff-Your-Face Jane into bat. Stuff-Your-Face Jane will be allowed out very occasionally, under special conditions and with rules to follow, but never during an emotional low or an emotional high. The end.