The pattern that keeps patterning

Initially I drafted a story about how since the beginning of this year I had the routine of my dreams. As most people I'm not very sporty and I would always say: ‘I need to work out.’ Not for my physique, I'm naturally skinny and toned as is, but for my general (mental) health. And as most people I'd never stick to my word. Until last year, when I impulsively enrolled into a beginners course in pole dancing. It was a spur of the moment thing and honestly I imagined I would show up for one class and never touch a pole again.

Much to my surprise I turned out to be good at it, for a beginner. After a few lessons I realized I am naturally strong and my pain tolerance is high. Besides those helpful traits, it's really fun to land a move after failing at it several times. After every lesson I felt excited for the next one. For eight months straight I enrolled in as many lessons as I could, sometimes up to three times a week. Not because I had to stay fit, but because I really wanted to nail a trick.

After a few months I realized I needed to improve my flexibility to look less clumsy while executing a ballerina or an invert. I subscribed to a flexibility training app and added even more workouts to my weekly schedule. Some weeks I trained six days a week. A little too obsessive, in hindsight.

I couldn't help myself. I was obsessed with learning every detail of a trick I wanted to do, researching how to train for that particular goal when I wasn't at practice. Filming myself during class and rewatching to see where I needed improvement. Reading up on what it would take to reach intermediate level versus beginner. In six months I went from never having touched a pole to holding an Ayesha, a very instagrammable and popular intermediate/advanced move.

Oh, and during this fixation I was unapologetically and obnoxiously sharing every little practice, thought and achievement. Not for praise, although I got a lot of positive reinforcement, but because I was head over heels, I guess.

Last month I got the flu and stayed in bed to get better. I had already noticed my enthusiasm dimming a bit. I didn't feel as sorry for missing a class as I did in the beginning. I swear, if I couldn't make it to class it used to feel like my whole week sucked. Yet here I was, unfollowing all the pole accounts, because they gave me the ick. A month ago I wanted to install a pole at home and was seriously looking at options, and now I find the videos nauseating to look at. Even the ones from women who are really good at it.

This pattern keeps reoccurring. I find something new and get really into it. I can't stop thinking, talking and researching about the topic. Then I master the thing I wanted to get from it, and people around me start asking me about it. The new thing becomes part of my identity. And that's when all interest starts to fade, until it becomes a bore and an actual ache.

I'm like that kid who only wants to eat the same thing for lunch every day, until they suddenly hate it. I still go to practice, but now it's more out of commitment to a healthy habit than excitement. I'm telling myself it's good to go because it's a full body workout. It's great for my core, my mobility and my flexibility, and working out is great for balancing hormones. I sound like a brochure now the magic is vanishing.

I know this happens, so usually I'm ready for when the spark is gone. Yet this time I really thought it was different, because the obsession kept going for months on end. At first I thought: oh well, in three months I'll be over it. But the infatuation stayed for eight months and it even inspired me to add habits and routines to get better at the sport. Besides, I was taking it so seriously that I hadn't even bought a whole wardrobe around it, to fit the part. Like that time I bought a whole sexy ballerina outfit, only to take one class, leave in utter shame and never look back. Or when I had all the tennis gear ready-set-go but skipped the try-out lesson. These nuances looked like clues that I had finally found something for real. After 30 years of hopping from one interest to another.

So that's why I erased the draft about how I successfully held a workout routine, and wrote this instead. Journaling/ writing is the one thing I always come back to for real.

Love always,

Ps. the trick to have successful work out routine: find something you really love to become better at, so it feels like playtime instead of a commitment.