Be Kind To Myself

I am a FLYbaby. (If you don’t know what that means, check out flylady.net and prepare to have your mind opened to new possibilities of awesomeness) What has this taught me? (Other than how to organize and keep my house company ready.) It has taught me that it’s very important to be kind to myself.

What does this mean?

This means, why in the world do I criticize myself so harshly when I would never say any of those things to a friend. I would never tell a friend that they shouldn’t try because they will just fail. I would do my best to make sure I was taking care of that friend so well that they were healthy in body, mind and spirit. So why am I so horrible to myself?

Why are we all so horrible to ourselves?

I have had to ask myself that question a lot lately. You see, despite my efforts I am nowhere near where I wanted to be, fit-wise, for our vacation next week. I was starting to get thoroughly discouraged, berating myself for my own laziness and lack of discipline. I have not been kind to me. So why have I even been trying?

A little slip up on the whole “healthy eating campaign” would bring words of such great disapproval that it was a wonder there was any of me left. Would I have ever told a friend, who upon telling me she had eaten ¼ of a bag of Dorritos, that there was absolutely no way she would ever be skinny and in shape? EVER. Because of that one slip up, because she was not perfectly attending to her healthy eating plan she would never, ever, on any planet get in shape and look toned and skinny.

The answer? No. I would never say anything like that. I would give words of encouragement. “One slip-up can’t ruin everything. Ten-slip ups won’t. Because you won’t give up! You’ll just keep on trying and do better and better. Don’t beat yourself up. You can make it. I promise.”

I was not so nice to myself.

I have berated, criticized, beaten down and demoralized myself for every little mistake. I look at where I want to be, see where I am and instead of saying, “Oh yeah! We are a little closer. We can get there. No worries, we’ve got this!” I end up hearing myself say, “I can’t believe I look like this. What is wrong with me? I can’t seem to do anything right. I look horrible. Why does my husband even like me?” 

How horrible. If someone else had been saying that to me every day I would have accused them of some serious verbal abuse. But, it’s just me abusing me. Which is worse than anyone else saying anything.

Truth is, I have hated the way I look since I was about thirteen. Thirteen! That is eight years of self-loathing! Eight years of hating my reflection. Eight years of suffering under the weight of self-doubt. I have been crushed by own opinion of myself for so long that now that I see the damage I have to wonder… how do I fix it?

First thing first! BE KIND TO MYSELF! Why is that so hard? To cut myself some slack? To say, “Hey, yeah, that wasn’t the best thing to do but that doesn’t ruin everything. It doesn’t have to be perfect to work. It just needs to be relatively consistent to work.”

Why do we expect perfection? Why can’t I see myself and think that I am beautiful? What is so hard about loving me the way I am? (Imperfections and all). It’s no wonder I haven’t seen the positive changes in myself that I wanted. It’s no wonder that I haven’t gotten the body of my dreams when I have given myself what I need to succeed.

In fact, this goes for all things. From writing, to cooking, to running to starting clubs! I haven’t given myself the support I need.

So, even though I know it isn’t going to be an easy change. Or a fast change. I know that I am going to start being nice to me. I will be my biggest and best support team! I will say only nice things to myself. I will treat myself like I would treat my best friend. Maybe even better. From the quality one-on-one time, to the encouraging words and loving acceptance I try to give all my best friends, I will try to give that to myself.

I will go to bed early because I deserve to feel refreshed and energized. I will eat good food because my body deserves to run on the best fuel possible. I will exercise because it makes me feel good, physically and emotionally. I will work on my book, cooking, yoga, rock climbing and whatever else I want too because I love to develop my talents. That, my friends, is being kind to myself.

So, have you been beating yourself up? Have you been your own worst enemy? Have you given yourself the love and credit you need to be the best you? Start being kind to yourself! Maybe, if we all band together, we can teach the young women that are following behind us to stand up to themselves, for themselves. To not give in to the belief that they are not good enough. To not drown in their own perfectionism. But to thrive in the love that comes from  accepting who you are, where you are and what you want to become.

No excuses people. I want to hear from you! Tell me, tell everyone that you are going to be nice to yourself and that everyone else needs to be nice to themselves too! Stand up for yourself. Stop bullying yourself and live your life with no regrets.

That is what I am going to try to do. Join in the love folks!

 

New Favorite Quote “The Difference in Who You Are and Who You Want to Be, is What You DO”

"Crazy" You Say? Why Yes, Have You Been Looking For Me?

We have moved. And we are almost unpacked. Moving, though, is not good for one’s constitution. However, I believe that Stephen and I have pulled it off nicely and that we are going to love our new home.

Upon moving into the house, one of the first things I did was a load of laundry. Just out of sheer joy I had to use my very own washer and dryer! Seriously, anyone who knows what it’s like to not have a washer and dryer understands the beauty that moment.

Of course, being me and having been born under a star with a skewed sense of humor, some things went wrong. No, we didn’t lose Lulu (hm… now that I think of it, I haven’t really properly introduced that incorrigible kitty to my little online community) and we didn’t break anything of importance. But, we did kinda kill a car…

Here is what happened, Stephen and I were borrowing my dad’s small SUV to haul the trailer since neither of our cars have that ability. It had just had a new transmission put into it, and we were sure that it was going to work great (or so my dad said. And I generally trust him implicitly when it comes to cars). Well, we finally get over to my Aunt’s house to borrow their trailer (Thanks Christine and Kevin!) and they are gracious enough to help us get it all set up.

Now, it was late on a Friday night. We were definitely interrupting them, and causing everyone to be eaten alive by mosquitoes. So, they really were very, very kind. Well, we get everything hooked up, and we start to head off. I get the impression that we probably shouldn’t be on the freeway, so I suggested we take State street instead. Stephen agreed, and everything went swimmingly until we started to climb up a small hill.

The incline was gradual, but half way up everything was shaking quite alarmingly, and we had nowhere to go but the middle of the road. (You know, that lovely place between oncoming traffic reserved for left turns?) Yup. That is where we were. We put the car in park, and Stephen went to inspect. He came back and said everything looked fine.

We attempted to get out of the road only to find that we could not get the car out of park. No matter what we did, it was stuck. We called my Uncle, and he came right away to help us out. We called a tow truck because we knew we couldn’t tow it behind us when it was so very much stuck in park.

My Uncle arrived. He has some excellent knowledge of vehicles, and attempted to get it out of park. No such luck. So he got to work, hauling the trailer backwards far enough that we could connect the trailer the right way. And then getting the trailer out of the way and into a nearby parking lot.

Stephen and I waited. Waking up my poor parents (since it was their car) at around 1:00 am to ask them what they wanted us to do with the unfortunate piece of metal on four obstinately parked wheels. More waiting.

The tow-truck arrived.

Voila! The man was a mechanic. He looked at the car for about, oh, 5 minutes. Switched around some fuses and suddenly, the car was working perfectly fine. All of that trouble simply because we blew three fuses. I was annoyed. But grateful it wasn’t anything worse than that.

We finally got the trailer home (after switching my uncle cars and taking his much more reliable vehicle to haul all of our stuff to the new apartment) and it was 1:30. My brother-in-laws were coming over at 8:00 am to help us move. I wasn’t done packing. Stephen and I stayed up until 3:30 packing. He went in and fell asleep, I was awake until after 4:00.

Of course, I was up at 7:30 the next morning and started getting ready for the grand relocation. The move went smoothly thanks to my estimable and industrious husband and brother-in-laws. And, all we have left is unpacking and decorating.

I am loving our new location, having a washer and dryer and dishwasher. I am rather in love with my spacious bathroom and much cubby-holed closet. All in all, I love it!

The next few weeks are going to be crazy though. Between my brother leaving on a mission, my brother-in-law getting married, my job ending, going on a week-long vacation, starting school, finding a new job and sending my sweet husband off to training with the military for six months…. I feel like I don’t have time to breathe. 

Oh and exercise? I’ve been moving! That counts, right?