I meant to post this yesterday, but wound up napping during the Iron Bowl (Roll Tide!) then again after dinner because I got very little sleep Friday night, so I didn’t get around to finishing it up. (I’m a light sleeper, John has a cold that has him stopped up and snoring like I don’t know what, and this is why we need to get the bed for our spare bedroom put together already so I can sleep there when I can’t sleep next to him.)
I went to bed about 9:30 or 10p last night and woke up at 4:45a and never could go back to sleep, so around 8a, I finally decided to just get up. I wound up having an idea that relates to this post, which you can read about on my Instagram page.
Onward to today’s writing prompt…
Today: As you begin to make Self-Appreciation Jar deposits for things you no longer want to be saying, take note of your words. What is it that you say about yourself? Why do you say it? What are your emotions when you say it?
Write it down in your “Beautiful You” journal, then consider what you are really saying. If “I am fat” is always coming to your lips, think those words through until you are holding some truth.
Are you unhappy with your weight because you would like to be more healthy – perhaps able to walk up stairs without losing your breath or get off a certain type of medication – or are you unhappy with your weight because it doesn’t meet a Hollywood standard of beauty?
By really examining the motivation behind your words, you can see the truth and act accordingly.
No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you and I didn’t get the numbering wrong.
As Rosie writes in the intro of the book, I skipped a day that didn’t really apply to me.
But it isn’t that it didn’t apply.
Day 8 was about creating a Self-Appreciation Jar and putting quarters in it for every critical thought to visualize how costly it is when we knock ourselves.
I have not done this because, well, I am unemployed and don’t have any extra change to toss into a jar. Also, with all of the thoughts that fly through my brain on a regular basis, there aren’t enough quarters or jars in the world to fill. Okay, maybe I just think that because I don’t realize once I started throwing money in, I might see how expensive these critical thoughts are and think, Hmm, maybe I should stop before it costs me everything.
Those expensive critical thoughts, however, go something like this:
I’m too fat.
I’m going to wind up having diabetes or dying of heart disease because I won’t lose weight.
I will never have a fulfilling life.
I am a boring, uninteresting person.
I am wasting my life.
I’m too lazy.
I’m not creative.
I am a failure.
I am stupid.
I will always be struggling financially.
John probably wishes he’d married someone else.
I am a burden and a drain.
I will never get my shit together.
Why do I say these things about myself?
Because I am constantly comparing myself to other people who seem to know what they’re doing and I come up short. I don’t know how to market myself or draw pretty graphics or write professionally or take beautiful photos. I keep settling for jobs that are emotionally draining because I keep chasing the feeling that being out of debt will make me feel better. (It does for a little bit, but like with losing weight without dealing with all of the emotional shit, it winds up being not enough when you haven’t really done the work to be smarter with your finances.) I look at other people my age and think they are so far “ahead” of me because they have good jobs, make enough money to enjoy doing things like travel without going into debt, and they own their own homes while I have none of those things at the moment.
Because I grew up in an environment where it was thought being mean and critical was the only way to teach someone to change their behavior and I carried those behaviors with me. I remember getting so angry at my dad because the only time he really paid attention to me as a kid was when I did something wrong and ignored me the rest of the time and his explanation was, “I figure when you’re behaving yourself and being quiet, it’s best to just leave you alone.” And now I pretty much do the same thing to myself and to John. I really struggle to bring light to the good in both myself and John and our marriage and tend to focus on what needs to be “fixed.”
How do I feel when I say those things?
Defeated. This morning, while trying to make myself sleepy enough to go back to sleep, I saw a post on Reddit that asked, “If you had killed yourself a year ago today, what would you have missed out on?”
Instead of answering that question, I thought instead back to 14 years ago when I had all but decided to kill myself after I finished college. I had so many of those same thoughts back then about my body (weighed what I weigh now but had zero cardiovascular endurance and walking more than to my car from my dorm made my whole body hurt), being a burden (this was around the time my mom told me I’d been one to her growing up), feeling so lazy and unambitious and like my college degree was a waste (I was so depressed I could barely function and just barely graduated), and I could not see my life ever being good. Everything hurt. Everything felt like shit.
I still feel like that sometimes, but when I think back to all I’ve done and all I’ve experienced in the past 14 years? Oh my god. Yeah, a lot of shitty stuff happened, but the good! I moved to Atlanta and started a life of my own. I met a man unlike any I grew up around whom I fell in love with and who loves me just as I am. I made such incredible friends. I now have a great relationship with my mom and my brothers and I are best friends and we love talking to each other and love the time we get to spend together. I’ve traveled places on my own. I’ve lived in a big city (Chicago makes Atlanta look like a small town). I’ve seen and played in snow (and lots of it)! I’ve read such great books and seen so much cool stuff and I’ve seen myself grow more and more into the person I wanted to be then but felt I never could.
Those thoughts are the “nothing” thoughts in my vicious all-or-nothing cycle. All I see are those words. Grace would tell me, “I am fat, but I am healthy and I feed myself nourishing food and move my body when I feel able to.”
I could apply “Yeah, but…” to just about anything.
The idea I had this morning instead of throwing quarters in a jar every time I have a critical thought about myself is a “How Did I Make Today A Day” list in my journal, on Evernote, or a scrap of paper. I am so much a “Today will be THE day” about eating healthier, exercising, saving money, not spending, looking for jobs, etc., and when I do something that feels like a mistake (eat ice cream for dinner, lie on the couch all day, buy something online or at Target, etc.), I send myself into a shame spiral and wind up on a quest to numb my feelings, which means binge eating or shopping with my credit card or whatever.
So on this note, I will write things like “Took Missy for a walk around the apartment complex,” “read a book outside on my settee,” “applied for one job/spent 30 minutes looking for jobs to apply for,” “uninstalled Ebates from my phone so I wouldn’t go online shopping out of boredom and buy something for the cash back,” and etc.
Social media, television, books, and more lead us to believe we live life on a rigid timeline. By 25, we’re supposed to be married. By 35, we are supposed to be established in a career. By 40, we should have two children. As a late bloomer who started her period a month before her 14th birthday while all of her friends started around their 10th and 11th birthdays and who didn’t get her first kiss or have sex for the first time til just prior to her 29th birthday, I know damn well there’s no real timeline.
There’s no one way to have a body.
Debt is not the worst thing in the world (though man, it must be nice to not have any).
NO ONE has their shit completely together because there’s really no such thing because no one is perfect.
EVERYONE is figuring things out as they go along.
What is meant to happen in my life will happen. Like Liz Gilbert says, my boat will not leave without me.
What am I really saying?
I want to lose weight because I want to feel lighter in my body. What I mean is, it is really hard to do the activities I want to do, like hike and run and cycle, with 270 pounds on my back, hips, and knees. It hurts. I have really fucking strong legs because they hold up this weight, but the weight causes me a lot of pain. Funny, but painful story: One time, John and I were hiking Kennesaw Mountain and when I jumped off a rock, my BELLY SLAPPED THE TOPS OF MY THIGHS. Like slapped so hard, John looked around thinking someone had fallen somewhere. I screamed from the sharp pain then started laughing and told John what happened.
I don’t want to be super skinny and know I will likely never be thin. I want to be able to do the activities I love without feeling so heavy and weighed down.
I want to be out of debt so the money I make is mine to do the things I want to do and so I can also help others. I am so tired of giving my money to these huge banks and credit card companies because I couldn’t afford what I wanted and had to borrow money from them. I am not a victim to them by any means. I am just tired of depending on them.
I want to be creative and smart and know how to market myself because I want to work for myself and be my own boss. I am tired of working for someone else and putting all of my efforts towards something I don’t ever really reap the benefits of. My last boss called us admins her “factory.” Cogs in the machine. I am tired of being the factory for someone else.
I keep getting myself stuck in the “I don’t know how” phase of each of these goals. I know the statistics to regarding weight loss, getting out of debt, and working for myself, and they all say failure is all but guaranteed. I want to stop seeing failure as a sign I shouldn’t bother trying. That there are no lessons to be learned in failure. That there is no success in failure when successful people fail more than anyone.
Being alive means there is a 100% chance of failure at some point, but that doesn’t mean I can’t or shouldn’t try. To not try is a failure in its own right.
I want to write down my daily steps in the direction of grace and compassion and accomplishments, not charge myself a fee for every negative thought because those charges will only feed further into the debt I feel myself in throughout every aspect of my life.
And if some days I don’t do anything at all because I couldn’t even get out of bed, I will write down, “I’m still here and that’s the most important gift of all.”
You can read all of my other posts from Rosie Molinary’s Beautiful You here.