I’ve never been very big on following through. When my kids were young, I’d ground them and then not follow through with the punishments. I started college and I didn’t follow through with graduating. I got my Associate’s degree and dropped out one semester before graduating with a Bachelor’s. I would get jobs and never allow myself to be promoted. Not because it wasn’t offered, but because, I think I’ve always had this fear of being too big or too successful.
Success wasn’t a thing that was ingrained in my upbringing like it is in some households. I came from a household of just getting by. And when I got pregnant at 17 and again at 18, that upbringing became my reality.
Just get by. Just pay the bills. Just make sure the kids are fed. Just make sure they behave. Just make sure they thrive. Just. Just. Just.
I also have one of those personalities that wants to save the world while throwing myself under the bus. I always picked the wrong men. On at least three occasions I picked the worst possible men and then decided to have kids with them. It seems my whole adult life has been me putting myself into this tiny shallow invisible box and covering my head up with sand.
I don’t blame anybody for the way my brain has decided to form an opinion of me. But a person can only hate themselves for so long before they self destruct or self repair.
Over the last 3 months, I have been self repairing.
Trying to mentally repair the damage done from childhood & adult trauma. Trying to repair the damage I had done to my body from years of drinking in excess on the weekend & fueling my body with trash foods. Trying to repair the damage I had done to my physical health by refusing to move my body daily and allowing myself to fall into dark self loathing cycles that I pretended didn’t exist by smiling and making off colour jokes.
And I know it is definitely going to take many more months to undo all that damage, if it’s even repairable. Some of it may be permanent and that’s OK. A person can only do what a person can do.
All I know for sure, is that today, I had a moment. I don’t know if it was just an emotional moment. Maybe it was a spiritual moment, but it was a moment.
I felt pride in myself. I felt pride in my workout. I felt strong and unstoppable. I forgot for just a few minutes that I had that negative self defeating voice in my head telling me to quit.
I was running and I was halfway through a really difficult stretch and as I made the choice to keep running even though it was uncomfortable, and cold, and I couldn’t catch my breath, I felt this sense of accomplishment. I felt like maybe I reached a turning point in my life where I get to dictate how successful I am. I get to dictate what is worth being proud of. I get to write my own story.
Of course, deep down, I know this has been the case all along, but when everything in your head reminds you daily of all the negative things people have said to you over the span of your lifetime, whether it is a parent or a lover or a friend, it’s hard to take the power of those words away and find power in their antithesis. Today was that moment for me.
That’s the easiest way to explain a feeling that can’t really be put into words.
I hope you all have a great Thursday! Thanks for being here!