Friday, April 01, 2016
It's been a while since I was able to answer the question "What makes me feel good?"
I find when I can't answer that question, it's because the only answer I have is food. It's a sad state of affairs when I can't come up with one other thing in my life that doesn't feel like an effort or "work." The standards: reading a book, having a bath, going for a walk - all TERRIBLE suggestions because that would require me to do something other than getting off the couch or out of bed and that's too much trouble. But then when asked if watching tv or being lazy really feels good (because if it really did and was satisfying to me, I would totally allow it), the answer is also no.
This is where I've been for 2 years now. Nothing feels good. Nothing is worth it. And I just don't want to be bothered.
What happened to the girl who derived so much pleasure from finishing a 5k or getting back on the ski hill? She's still in there, but I've buried her again with fat. I suffocated her along with my drive to do anything good for myself. The instant gratification monster that I fight with has usurped the throne and is holding court on a daily basis.
But then suddenly, my life freed up just enough for me to get the heck out of dodge for a week at the beginning of March, and I finally took a vacation. A real life, actual holiday, driving the coast of California - a place I had never been before. It was my first vacation in over 3 years. And I can't tell you how badly I needed it.
At first, when I came home and things blew up again at work, I was bemoaning ever leaving in the first place. All the good feelings I had were washed away immediately and my nose was solidly back on the grindstone.
But having been back now for a month, I have discovered a vacation residual that it has taken me some time to process...
That long lost feeling that I haven't had in what feels like forever. The feeling I get when I do something new, something all for myself, something that breaks down my inner "I Can't" and replaces it with "Hell yes, I just did that!"
In one week, I flew across the country, navigated trains, planes and automobiles, discovered cities that I had never been to before, fed myself, exercised, stretched my mind and my imagination, relaxed, and made it home alive with stories to tell. I DID THAT. All by myself. Because I am smart, and capable, and deserving. I accomplished something. And it felt really, really good.
And now I have the gift of the residual. The knowledge that the thing that makes me feel good is accomplishment. Achieving things. Doing things for myself and by myself that only I can do. And perhaps that's exactly what I need to push the monster off the throne.
So my question now is, what next?