You ever wonder why you can’t seem to get motivated about something? You’ve planned out the idea, mapped out exactly what you need and by the time it’s actually ready to start, you’ve lost all desire? No? Well, that’s the life of someone living with anxiety. For the longest time I’ve followed so many fitness pages. Researched Keto until I my eyes were strained. I talked about it all the time and my best girlfriend had such success, but when it came time to get down, my depression spoke to me and told me that I couldn’t. So, I didn’t.
I heard someone say that it takes 21 days of consistently doing something before it truly becomes a habit. I think I’m on day ten…maybe 12. But I truly had to get my depression in check. Like check and fucking mate. For as far back as I can remember, my weight has been a direct reflection of whether or not I felt beautiful and if I could garner male attention. I’ve had boobs since third grade so I’ve ALWAYS *insert the longest sigh* gotten male attention. Albeit for the wrong reasons but hey, I was a teenager when this started. Talk about hormones. Sheesh. More times than I’d rather remember I liked the ‘cute guy’ or the ‘most popular kid in school’ and he only wanted to cop a feel but I was all in.
Everyday I make a conscious effort to get up and try. It’s not going to be easy and no I don’t want to do it. At all. Not yet. I’ve heard that at some point you begin to crave working out. Less than two weeks in and I know that I’m definitely not there, but it’s getting easier. I had to let go of what I perceived as being beautiful. I had to let go of the trauma that I experienced from constant rejection and being told that I was ‘cute for a big girl.’ At 34, I didn’t realize that I was still carrying that around in such a way that was still extremely hurtful. I have so many Facebook ‘friends’ that are coaches and trainers and whatever that have asked me did I need help. Both men and women.
But all I can remember is these are the same people who made fun of my weight in high school. Yeah no. You can kiss this fat ass.
One foot in front of the other. That’s it. That’s all I can do. Anything more ain’t it. It isn’t going to happen. I know that I will mess up and won’t do the exercises perfect, but I’m going to try, really hard. Effort. That’s it.