on health, happiness, and healing

I've always been pretty conscientious about my health and wellbeing, probably due largely to how I was raised by my own mother. I've cared about the things I put in (and on) my body, and I've always understood that it's important to stay active not only to maintain a certain fitness level but also to keep the body functioning properly. Unlike many college students, I'm pretty adamant about getting enough sleep (even if I don't always get it). And over the course of a couple of years I've taken consecutive steps from omnivore to pescatarian to vegetarian to vegan for personal and environmental health. I don't think there's one clear path that is the "best" or "healthiest" but I know that eating food full of pesticides and antibiotics, not to mention additives such as sugar and chemicals I can't even pronounce, is not the way to go for ourselves and for the planet.

Perhaps as a result of my conscientiousness, however, I'm easily self conscious of my choices, or worse, of my appearance. I criticize myself when I don't work out, or when I eat an entire bar of chocolate because... well, because I was craving it (at least it was vegan, right?). Similarly, I find myself easily frustrated at other people who don't seem to understand that their own lifestyles are making them sick and unhealthy. And I get jealous of people who do seem to have it all under control - who can resist their cravings, and who have a regular workout routine that keeps them fit and in shape.

But my criticism isn't going to help anyone, is it?

I don't know if it's taken reading The Book of Joy to realize this, or if it's taken the jolt of being on my own and far away from Princeton to give me the time and space necessary to be deeply introspective. I do know that the stress of the Princeton environment does my body and my mind no good. And I know that over a year ago, I was in an unhealthy relationship where I was often angry at my partner for having the motivation to work out, and angry at myself for being angry at him and for not getting my ass off the couch to do the same. It seems like a vicious cycle, doesn't it?

You see, this isn't just a travel blog. It's not even a mom blog, contrary to what my friends initially believed (after all, I'm not even a mom, so I'm not sure the term was ever appropriate). It's just a journal made public. A journal through which I hope to chronicle some of the things that happen to me along the way; and maybe, just maybe, it will spark some conversation from time to time.

I don't know if Princeton is unique in its ability to smother its students and faculty with a blanket of stress and expectations that are too high to be met without some serious sacrifices (of course, which things you choose to sacrifice more than others are up to you: sleep, work, friends, cooking, sports, clubs, etc., etc.). I shouldn't blame everything on the institution, and yet, time and time again, friends and other students voice complaints over lack of time, stress, and other mental strains like depression and anxiety. When the community is bound so closely together, these things seem to become contagious. At the very least, it becomes a competition to see who's gotten the least amount of sleep that week, or who manages to balance 5 or 6 classes plus a social life plus athletics.

For example, I know that I need to work out and eat healthy. But if I'm particularly stressed by academics, I suddenly no longer have enough bandwidth left to make the right choices, and will end up choosing the easier option to minimize the amount of thinking I have to do. And then immediately afterwards I'll get mad at myself instead of being compassionate as maybe I should have been. When I'm not at Princeton, I suddenly find myself with way more thinking power than I know what to do with, and for the most part that turns out to be a good thing. I tend to eat better more consistently, and I will work out more, even if only because of the fact that I have more time to kill. And as a result, I feel happier.

The point is... no, I don't know what the point is.

I don't know if I'm ready for the trail race next weekend (and that's okay, because I'm not there to race anyway), but I think it will be an exciting marker in my own journey of healing a body battered by stress and lack of exercise. And in fact, here are pictures of a few of the more active things I've done in the past few weeks:

I met a couple of volunteers who invited me along on a climbing trip through one of the local climbing gyms. We hiked up to a crag in Nagarjun Forest Reserve, trying to avoid leeches along the way. As the others were still seemingly freaking out about the leeches, I helped Sandip and Anuj set up the first two top ropes, and then we climbed a couple of different routes several times for the rest of the day, even as the sun threatened to become too much and rain loomed on the horizon. It was a great day, but not having had enough of climbing, I stayed at the gym afterwards to boulder some more until my fingers were raw. Only then did I bike back home to Patan.

Here is another picture, with a couple members of the group, our driver, and Sandip belaying:

In addition to climbing outside (that one time) and at the gym (numerous times so far), I have also tried to bike and run more to get my fitness level a bit higher. Waking up early with the sun is a really cool feeling (and surprisingly not difficult to do here, considering that the city comes to life at 5am).

It's been hard at times to find enough motivation, but at the same time I'm having a good time doing things that I know are going to pay off in the long run. I still have a long way to go, no doubt about it.

Thanks for reading, and till next time!