And how I’m now learning to prioritize both.

Photo by Sven Mieke on Unsplash

I suppose you could say that I developed a passion for fitness as an adult. I will admit that I didn’t actually choose to break a sweat before the age of 20. Every time before that it was purely an accident.

As a child, I was much more into poetry and music and animals. When I was in school, the prospect of participating in team sports or P.E. class was positively repugnant to me. Just the furthest thing from my wheelhouse. …

And I have some tips that might help you manage yours, too.

Long before the year 2020 and the science-fiction reality of a raging global pandemic, an unapologetically dystopian political agenda and straight up murder hornets, I was already an anxious person. Whether it was just your garden-variety social anxiety and shyness, or an irrational fear of zoo tigers getting loose in the city and hunting down small children at the playground, I knew how to be worried about things. Short of giving you a long list of “reasons why” I ended up with such a shaky disposition, suffice it…

If you are a parent in 2020, odds are that you have just been unwittingly thrust into the world of homeschooling. Yikes! I know. Despite the fact that you would have never in a million years attempted to take responsibility for teaching your child how to “carry the one,” here you are; likely also trying to work a full or part-time job, venturing far and wide to find toilet paper and copious amounts of cheez-itz, all while managing the physical and emotional stresses of living through a pandemic, the likes of which we’ve never seen before. Oh and also you…

I haven’t been to war. I haven’t been in a horrific accident or seen anything too gruesome, even. To that effect, I have had a relatively sheltered life, for which I am incredibly grateful. I’ve had my trauma, though. And I’ve been really struggling lately- anxious, more than usual. Maybe that’s redundant to point out but the truth is, we’re not all having the same experience during this pandemic. And some of my friends and family don’t understand why I’m taking this all so hard.

Unlike some of them, who have spent the last few weeks of quarantine bored and…

On days when I feel consumed by self-loathing-

When my mummy-tummy is bulging over the edge of my yoga pants and I discover one holy and healthy grey hair expounding with seeming pride from my ever-thinning hairline

When I sit alone in an empty studio with no clients and no phone calls, and my phone isn’t buzzing or binging or beeping

When I look around my home and the muddy paw prints scattered across the wooden floors seem to taunt me, the dishes in the sink have reappeared and the garbage is starting to smell

When I look in the…

“Why does my entire house smell like cat litter?” I say out loud to no one, because I’m home alone. I feign momentary disgust for the filthy odor but mostly just out of obligation of decency in case anyone were to show up to my house in the middle of the day, unannounced, and wanted some theoretical proof that I disapproved of the state of things.

The truth is, I don’t really care. There are also a million fingerprints on the glass table where my kids had breakfast six hours ago. They’re at school now, and sometimes, if I’m honest…

A personal essay on surrendering

I wake up in the middle of the night and my heart thuds heavy in my chest. My pelvis feels like it’s been pounded with a sledgehammer. It hasn’t, just feels that way.

My brain starts churning and I land on a thought: I don’t feel like a woman, just a human; and even a little less of a human these days.

It’s 4am and I’m just laying awake thinking about how I’m going to find the strength to push past the big, dark shit that’s thundering through my head again tonight. With the lights…

Do you feel anxious? Do you feel depressed? Yeah, me too.

I had a series of panic attacks this past summer. Quite suddenly, my high-functioning, socially acceptable anxiety just tipped over into full blown panic. And seemingly overnight, I lost my grip with reality. I went from being a busy mother-of-two with a budding career in fitness and nutrition to a deeply terrified, non-functional shell of a human. I couldn’t get out of bed. I thought I was going crazy. I thought I was dying. I was afraid I would hurt myself or those around me.

The panic attacks lasted…

Dayna Copeland

Writer, Musician, Activist.

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