Yes, okay? I admit it. I'm a jammies girl.

I would never be caught dead wearing them to the store (but I won't judge you if you do), but comfort brings me inner peace. Give me a cozy fire and a blanket, and I'm in heaven.

I'm also sensitive to fabrics. Jeans are about as comfortable as a cactus hug, but I'll wear them when I have to.

Comfort is the love language I give to myself, and soft pajama pants with a hoodie are like a marshmallow in a cup of hot cocoa.

I work from home, so, in the past, unless I had to leave the house, I saw no reason why I couldn't just live in pajama pants all day. I mean, soooo cozy.

But that reason showed up with pain, and pain is the messenger that says, "Something's gotta change."

I've been living in extra stressful circumstances this past year. My stepmom passed away, so we helped my dad sell his home; my husband and I sold our home; and we all bought a house together so I could care for him. This was a significant mental and emotional adjustment for all of us.

I also had to shut down my trauma coaching practice. I still have a higher anxiety baseline from CPTSD, so I spend a lot of internal energy managing that. Still, it was even more elevated due to my stepmom's passing, a menopause roller coaster, and the throes of emotional, physical, and mental burnout.

But Nima, it seems like you need those jammies more than ever! Choose the jammies!

Oh, my friend, I wanted to, and I did for a while. But what I described above wasn't the worst pain. The worst was the stress's impact on my mind and body. Sleepless nights, shortness of breath, chest tightness and pain (I saw my doctor about that one), a shorter fuse, irritability, crippling anxiety, dizziness, and tingling in my legs, arms, and face.

I became increasingly scared for my health.

Self-care doesn't come naturally to me, but I knew I needed to make it a focus or I would be in trouble, especially since heart disease runs in my family. The fear of a heart attack was valid and loomed over me.

Solving a problem is difficult when your brain is in crisis mode.

The answer stared me in the face, but I kept trying to look around it.

Like that annoying know-it-all kid in class who always raises their hand, and for once, you want someone else to raise their hand.

I was looking for any other hand. Any other idea besides... Exercise.

I didn't always feel this way. I was buff when I met Mike in my 20s. Post-two babies and PTSD, and my priorities shifted. Well, I shifted them wrongly. We always need exercise, but that's for another article.

You know that feeling of dread when you need a root canal, but you keep avoiding it because, duh, you don't want the pain of it? I knew that starting an exercise program again would hurt, make me more exhausted, and take more time than I felt I had to give. I already felt depleted.

I needed motivation and a solid why.

My why was clear: I wanted to live.

However, I knew that exercising would also decrease my stress and anxiety (something I needed immediately), help me sleep better, and improve my mental health.

Additionally, I had gained over ten pounds from menopause and stress in that year alone. None of my clothes fit (except my cozy pajama pants), making me even more depressed and anxious.

I knew I couldn't solve every problem I faced, but I also knew that my greatest chance of solving my problems was to first lower my stress and give myself an outlet.

My dad graciously gifted me an under-desk treadmill last Christmas to accompany my hydraulic lift desk, but for months, that baby lay under my bed gathering dust and hairballs from our cat.

I'm going to cut to the chase now.

To start something you know you need to but dread, you must stop thinking about it. Remove the emotions, rebuke the board members in your head telling you why you shouldn't, and just do it.

5–4–3–2–1. Go.

First, I tried walking in my pajama pants, which lasted 5 hot minutes.

I started slow (opposite my usual jump-in-with-both-feet-and-then-die method) and lasted 15 minutes at 2.3 mph. A few days later, I went 20 minutes at 2.5 mph and then 30. I fumbled with consistency at the beginning but kept at it.

Now, three months later, I am transformed.

1. It has become a habit. I roll out of bed, brush my teeth, drink water, pull on workout leggings and a shirt, position the treadmill, set it to 2.8 mph (which keeps me in Zone 2 for fat loss), and walk while I'm researching or learning something online. My criteria is that I'm in Zone 2 for 30 minutes, though I sometimes get so lost in what I'm doing on the computer that I'll go an hour. The point is, I can easily do it now.
2. I've lost 15 pounds—almost to the pre-baby weight I've wanted to return to for 20 years.
3. Missing a day here or there reminds me of how greatly it benefits my mental health, as without that walk, my anxiety is noticeably higher.
4. My energy, endurance, bounciness, mood, and smile factor have all improved. I initiate walks with my family now, where they always initiated before, and I always groaned.

My problems still need to be solved, but I am mentally in a better place to annihilate them.

And my jammies?

I hug them tight before putting them back in the drawer each morning before my workout. But I feel more like my old, badass self now, who takes no prisoners.

A euphoric transformation can occur when you finally do what you know you need to, especially when it requires stepping out of your comfort zone to do it. But when you honor your future self, your present self will thank you, too.

Full disclosure: I now hang out most days in my workout leggings, but I think I've earned it. 😉

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