I wish I could tell some hapless story about how the cardio sculpt class was an emotional train wreck and I was terrified the whole time and worried that everybody hated me and I caused somebody to injure herself (the class was all women), but the truth is that it was great. I flubbed a bit here and there, but nothing went too spectacularly wrong. After class, when I revealed that this had been my first time instructing a fitness class, several of the students told me I’d done a great job and actually seemed to mean it; one of them said she was going to go write a comment card saying how great she thought I was. Apparently this slot is open, so I called the group fitness manager and left him a message saying I very much wanted to take it on an ongoing basis. I have yet to hear back from him, so there’s still an opportunity for disaster to strike, but unfortunately it seems slim.
Which brings me to my bigger worry, which is that, as I become emotionally and psychically healthier and less neurotic, this blog will become more and more boring, until it reaches a point of tedium so banal that even I can’t stand it. I suppose I could write as if I were still as filled with anxiety and dread as I was in the early days of this blog, but, honestly, I’m a terrible liar and it would ring false. Don’t get me wrong–I’m still filled with anxiety and dread–it’s just that now there are, here and there, moments of something like calm mixed in. I could also go off medication, but then I’d be likely to fall back into a pit of despair so deep that I couldn’t bring myself to write anything at all, which would pretty much defeat the point of the whole exercise.
So what the hell am I going to do?
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