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Thursday, August 14, 2014

My Evolution: How Six Weeks Turned into a Lifetime, Ep. 2

Down another couple of pounds. The total so far? Very close to 50. I didn't think I'd be here. I'm so proud of how far I've come, and excited to take it even further. I may not yet be looking better, but I'm feeling better. The painful days don't last as long anymore and are slowly spreading farther apart. Yes, I'm feeling better - again, not looking better but I've told myself that I still have so far to go. My brain, so far, is okay with this. Well, kind of.

Lately, I've been searching for ways to remain positive. You see, when old habits have dug in their claws and anchored themselves into your bones, they fight back when you try to uplift yourself. The following statements have run through my head this past week no less than twice each:

"He's so cute. But he'd never be into you."

"Happily ever after exists - just not for me, and that's fine."

"People like you are a dime a dozen - you're not talented enough."

"Keep busy, because you're going to be alone."

I just read these quotes over and over, and they brought me to tears. How can I be allowing myself to feel like this? Furthermore, how can I stop these thoughts from floating through my head, especially at times of failure - when I'm stuck halfway through a song or story with nothing else to say, or ready to smash my bass into pieces because my fingers won't move across the fret board fast enough? 

I'm sure a million quotes exist to help combat this - but something else comes to mind: 

In the movie Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts' character Vivian says, "People put you down enough, you start to believe it."
Edward replies, "I think you are a very bright, very special woman."
Her answer? "The bad stuff is easier to believe..."

True story. At what point does it become ingrained in anyone's head that awful comments and opinions are easier to believe than praise? How many of you felt that way as children, and still feel that way today? Where do you think it begins? 

Fact: When someone approaches me after a show and compliments the band's set, I can't help but wonder if they're blowing smoke up my ass. 

Fact: When a good-looking guy shows interest in me (rare, but it happens!), I can easily convince myself that I'm imagining it.

Fact: Kirby has gotten rave reviews from all who've picked it up, and I know this. I still can't convince myself that I've actually written anything special. 

Now, here's what makes this all funny - I passionately defend my work, from top to bottom. I am talented. I am a good writer. I'm a decent bassist. I'm a decent vocalist. It's just that, every now and then, my bad habits emerge and try telling me otherwise. Some day it leaves me unable to get out of bed, some days it leaves me in tears on the treadmill, because I refuse to eat my feelings anymore. 

I'm not admitting this for pity. What I am doing is facing down the derogatory pile of shit that's formed in my head from the time I was a little girl until now. Everything I grew up believing is wrong. WRONG. 

This isn't just about losing weight anymore - it's about changing. Becoming someone new, the person that I have to believe I was meant to be. All the times I thought I was working hard? I was wrong. All the times I thought I was giving it my all? I was wrong. Pounds and pounds of food with family as a way of getting together? Family, right! Food, wrong. Eating a pint of ice cream when anyone (friend, guy, etc) broke my heart? So wrong. Being afraid to be myself, out of fear that people wouldn't like me? Wrong. Letting people dictate my hopes, my dreams, my life? Wrong. Accepting certain behaviors as healthy, based on the excuse that someone was just loving me the only way they knew how? Fcuking wrong! 

Let me tell you - changing is painful. Physically, mentally - it hurts. I'm in the process (I think) of breaking myself down to nothing for the purpose of building anew. All I can do is keep spewing the word 'difficult' at you, because it's the only way I can even begin to get my point across. The battle in my head - it's overwhelming sometimes. I do have days where I get up with a smile; I throw my gym clothes in a bag and walk briskly to the gym and bang out my workout. I'll go to work, make great food choices and hydrate to perfection without even having to take an ibuprofen! Then there are days like this - where my body hurts, not just from the physical pain, but because I'm struggling to stop beating myself up mentally. I barely got out of bed this morning; I missed my am workout. I'm forcing myself to workout tonight, though. And the truth? I'm going to hate every second of it. I won't have to worry about emotional snacking, because all that I have in the fridge is yogurt and sugar free pudding. (smile - that's good news!) And I write this, hoping that it'll be the vent I need to turn it around and make tomorrow a different day. 

The fight continues, and I keep on keeping on. I have to. There's no going back when there's so much promise ahead. A Crimson editor posted a quote from Paul George's Nike ad on her Facebook page today, and I feel like tattooing it on my skin, it means so much right now:

"The worst has happened. The best is next."

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