CONFESSIONS OF AN UNFIT PERSON: 5 THINGS I'VE LEARNED BY DOING THE SAME EXERCISE EVERY MORNING

Loryn Brantz knows what's up.

Before anyone comes at me because that's not how one is meant to exercise, I just want to clarify that I haven't ever truly pursued any proper exercise in my life (except for the bare minimum at school, a few yoga classes and a semi-decent run of No Lights No Lycra last year, which barely counts. Yoga with Adriene didn't work out either, as much as I liked her vibes - see post from 2013 lolz). Physical activity and I have always had a hard time becoming friends - he really exhausts me and I'm really good at ignoring him. However I'm highly aware that without it, I'm very likely to have a challenging time when I get a bit older; I look at my mum and for as long as I've been able to process her complaints, she's been constantly feeling unwell and has pains and aches that I don't think anyone only half-way through their expected lifespan should be having (however she did start exercising several years ago, so good on ya mum).

After multiple occasions of trying and failing to pull through, I've now set myself one single goal with the lowest bar possible: to exercise every single day, doing the shortest, simplest routine I've come across. I know myself well enough now to understand that no further intentions or goals will be able to motivate me in the initial stage of (hopefully) creating this new life-long habit of daily movement: screw the beach body, the ability to walk on my hands or any type of peer pressure. I'm happy to report that for the past month, I have not missed a single day. I still don't really enjoy it, but at least I've learned a few lessons that seem to keep me going.

WE CAN ONLY GET BETTER: WHY I (ALSO) WANT TO TALK ABOUT MENTAL HEALTH

I came across these beautiful articles about the journey of creating a company mental health policy by the team at For The People. I was so moved and inspired, I decided I had to write some form of response in support and to join in on the efforts of continuing this conversation. I’ve done a bit of writing since but haven’t been pleased with most of what’s come together; I know the topic is so dear to me, however none of it yet truly reflected my sentiments when I talk about it with people face-to-face. So I tried again, this time asking myself the simplest question: why do I want to write about mental health?

First and foremost, because I care, and believe wholeheartedly that the more we talk about such publicly “uncomfortable” matters, the more comfortable it’s only gonna get.

 Image taken by me; Austin TX / June 2016

I’m inspired by the likes of Hannah Gadsby and Cameron Esposito who are sending powerful messages – that more people need to share their “too personal” stories; more people need to realise the issues behind the detrimental emotions and psychological costs these individuals endure; more people need to “get in the way” of people turning a blind eye and letting these issues get swept under the carpet.

I’m inspired by my beautiful friend L., who I love dearly and have such a strong bond with, while understanding the reality that I would never be able to truly know what it’s like to deal with her mental disorder. I want people to stop being afraid of the mere mention of “mental disorder” or “mental illness”, as I have the honour and blessing to be such close friends with someone that manages one. I’m proud to share that she’s one of the kindest, funniest, most determined, generous, hardworking, stylish and emotionally intelligent people I know. I want individuals like herself to live in a world where the focus lies on all the wonderful things she is and can do; where instead of feeling any need to hide her mental health experiences, she knows that everyone is rooting for her progress – the way we root for people that want to manage their physical illnesses and disorders.

I don’t live with a disorder, nor have I lived through any hardship or trauma. However I want to be part of this conversation because my heart breaks for the ones that do; the ones that have to contain these experiences within themselves and their homes as they worry people will distance themselves, or reduce them to this one aspect of their life if things come to light. I want for us to open up our hearts, remember our own pains, and ask ourselves what we wished for when we felt it: I’m sure we hoped for it to go away, and perhaps for someone to show up, embrace and assure us that it’s okay. I want us to remember the moments we felt lonely – when no one checked in, no one understood, no one bothered to ask. I want us to realise that just because we got over it, it doesn’t mean that it didn’t fucking hurt at the time. Please embrace others; bother to ask.