Can I be honest with you, blog readers? I’m having a tough time. At least, at this very moment, the moment I am typing this–7:24 PM Monday night–I am feeling a bit rough. Firstly, my tummy hurts. It started when Sean and I went jogging after work today. I felt like I had cement bricks for legs and that my stomach was full of vinegar and baking soda. After my awesome Saturday run, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed in myself. I stopped to walk this time, and yelled at Sean on the trail for running at his normal pace.
- That was immature of me
- People running/biking past us probably thought I was a bitch
- I am seriously a five-year-old
- It was mean to blame Sean for my own issues
And that’s the point I’m getting to… No matter how motivated I try to keep myself, no matter what I tell myself about body image and bucking society’s expectations, I still get caught up in the exercise-world, plastic surgery work, half-marathon training drama that I set up for myself.
After I blew my top at Sean for “running ahead and then stopping to wait like I’m some loser” (can’t you see I’m clearly projecting my own issues on Sean because he’s big and tall and therefore an easy target?), I walked silently, but my mind was racing with negativity directed toward myself.
It was the most destructive thing I could ever do to myself at that point in time. No matter how many of my motivational sayings I re-read to myself in my mind (“It doesn’t matter how slow you’re going as long as you don’t stop;” “No matter how slow you go you’re still lapping your old self sitting on the couch;” “Someone busier than I am, someone in worse shape than I am, someone with less motivation than I have is running right now.” “Women in all shapes and sizes are beautiful;” Etc.), my thoughts kept going back to “You’re fat. You’re sloppy. You’re out of shape. You’re slow.” And each second I let these thoughts permeate my brain I got more and more defeated.
Did I ever tell you guys about the time I started crying on the trail during a run? Welp, I toldja I was 5! Sean ran ahead (because I told him to) and then I got upset about it (because I was, again, using Sean as a battering ram to take out my own insecurities on someone other than me), and I just started crying while running. I probably looked ridiculous. Well, then I started having what I imagine was close to an asthma attack (because of my running/sobbing). When I finally got to the end of the trail where Sean was waiting, I stormed past him and got in the car. When he finally got in I yelled, “I hope I die in the back of the half-marathon, and you’ll be running so far ahead you won’t know until the finish.”
Welcome to five-year-old Carolyn land where tantrums are regularly scheduled and quite stormy.
Why do I let these negative thoughts consume me so much? If I’m trying to live out the idea that life is what you make it, then why am I making it a giant poop-party on myself?
Sean and I were talking the other day, and I think the fact that I write positive things about plastic surgeons every day may have an effect on how I am seeing myself. Everyone in my office has had a cosmetic procedure (whether it be full on plastic surgery or a non-invasive cosmetic procedure) performed. And I haven’t. I’ve never really wanted one before. Then again, I’ve never really been the type of girl who fits in with others, but it hasn’t really always been by choice. I would have loved to be popular in high school, but I could not afford expensive clothes and a fancy car (in hindsight I’m glad my mom spent money on family camping trips as opposed to Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirts).
I’ve always been an outsider through necessity. And I’ve learned to embrace, even enjoy, the role. But there something about sitting in a place and feeling like you’re the one sticking out like a sore thumb. The same goes for running. There’s something about the woman who is obviously out of shape or the dad pushing the stroller with two kids running past you and not struggling as much as you are.
My boxing/Turbo Kick instructor Tracy was talking about balance the other day. Someone asked how you strengthen your balance so you can perform multiple round-house kicks without touching the kicking foot down in between. Tracy said it’s half core work and half luck. Some days everything aligns and you just rock it, and other days you can try as hard as you know how and it you just can’t even manage to stand on one foot. I feel like that’s how I am in life right now.
Some days everything aligns and the world is just awesome, and others I feel like no matter how hard I work I have a hard time even motivating myself to get off the couch. I’m being a little dramatic, I know, but sometimes it just feels like my balance will never come.
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Just so you guys know, I’m not fishing for sympathy, I just needed to be honest and vent. My life may seem like perfecto land where we all exercise and eat healthily, but there’s just as much struggle as there is triumph and that needs to be recorded as well.