So I got up with the girls got them off on their bus, then ate my breakfast, took my fiber, did a little dance, made a little ..scarf! (what did you think I was going to say there!)
Seriously though, got some exercise in after eating my healthy breakfast, nom nom.
Last night I was reading a article here on Spark, which basically said to think of yourself as a product, keep a journal and each night, name at least five things you did *right* or in a manner you were proud of, each day. Eventually that record keeping will help you stop the negative thoughts about yourself, or the abuse. Since I already keep a journal of what I eat (paper and pen, remember those strange things before the keyboard became how we wrote?) and what exercise I do, and how I feel, I am adding that listing every night.
Funny thing is?
I feel guilty writing down anything I feel I did well!
How revealing is that statement? That it makes me feel ashamed or 'bad' to write down positive things about myself, or that I see in a good light.
Just lead into that thought process that has been going on for a few years now. Those mulled over in the dark statements, that we all do, I am sure.
When did I stop believing in myself?
I ask that, because I used to believe like a child does, that one can accomplish and do *anything* they put their mind to. I am a fighter, a survivor, and even after listing everything I have done, or survived, everything I have accomplished that others thought I could not, at some point, I gave up that *fight*.
I cannot even pinpoint when I did. When I stopped believing I could reach the stars, and started just 'getting by', doing enough that I didn't feel I was spinning tires, or going through motions, but not that extra that I used to do, that made me as a person, as a woman feel inspired.
Somewhere, in the last 10 years, I started believing less in myself. Started making excuses, and validating those excuses. This isn't about the weight, but about every day life. That hill, that slow decline from being brave and pushing my own limits, in stretching myself, had to have started small. An excuse or a thought here or there, that slowly snowballed, until there are very few things, that I will admit to doing 'well'.
If you ask my best friend, she would tell you that I should write a novel, the next best novel, that would touch hearts and allow folks to see a bit of themselves in the strangers you pass.
If you ask her husband, he would say I should be a comedian. Tell my life with that flavored taste I have.
My husband ? He would tell you, there is not a thing in this world, that if I wanted to do it, that I could not Master. (except for beating him at a video game. Let's be honest, he is right about that!)
My daughters? They have said it, that they believe I am capable of anything, from building a house from scratch, to saving starving children with a hug and a kiss on the head.
So then, even with amazing support, with folks that believe in me, does it drive me nuts to have faith in *myself*.
And I have to say, that writing it out there, is painful and cleansing in it's own way. Accountability, which is a huge part of why I blogged, why I share the thoughts in my head here. It has to be apart of the journey for me, so I can sit down and look back on the touch points, of my own path here, and break the cycles I put myself in!
That being said. Time to practice what I preach to the girls. There is no *can't*. There may be "I will." "I am going to" "This might suck, but this is what I am going to achieve" and then there is *doing* it, and not knocking how long it takes to get there, or how many times I fall down while doing it.
With anything, there is only failure, when I stop trying. Every other time, is just practice. And well, practice makes perfection, as beautifully flawed as that perfection might be.
Nothing perfect, is perfect because it isn't flawed, but because of the flaws that make it perfect for the person who loves it.