I have to just put this out there.

I am very proud of myself. I feel like I’ve finally gotten myself back in the mindset of being healthy. I’ve not only found the path again, but I’m traveling down it. I’m still doing a lot of wandering and looking at the compass a lot to make sure I’m heading in the right direction, but I am.

Looking back, I can see how I had gotten ahead of myself. I thought that returning to my healthy ways would speed up my healing. When in reality, I had to heal before I could return to my healthy ways. And not only did I have to heal from the miscarriage, I also had to heal from the issues it brought back up.

My issues with food and self-esteem and self-worth and my tendency to sabotage myself.

And I didn’t do things right. I couldn’t understand why I could only stay on track a few days. Why I kept tearing myself down. Why I found myself at the bottom of the box of cheese crackers over and over again. Why I couldn’t make myself follow a simple running schedule.

It was because I wasn’t treating the problem. I was trying to make behavioral changes without addressing the underlying problems. There was a night a few weeks ago – I was cleaning up the kitchen. Nathan was in the shower. I’d just weighed on the Wii again and was pissed. At myself. At my choices. And I was saying some absolutely horrible things to myself. Incredibly horrible. And I just decided that I was done. I wasn’t going to allow myself to do that anymore. I made a commitment to be honest to myself. To not believe the lies that I told myself. To engage in behaviors that counteracted my negative thoughts. To take the time to be good to myself. To be nice to myself. And that’s where my end negative self-talk series came from.

I am not hideous.

I am not weak.

I am not lazy.

I am not a mess.

I can get it back together after a hard day.

It was hard to put it out there. It was hard to admit the things I say to myself. But it was one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. Putting it on paper on the blog forced me to recognize the ridiculousness of it all. It brought me out of the cycle.

It forced me to heal. My commitment to be nice to myself is what healed me.

That’s it. It was that simple.

Niceness healed me.

Thank you so much for endulging me.

And, please. Be nice to yourself.

More often than I’d like to admit, my perfectionistic tendencies flare up. And I feel like anything less than perfect just isn’t enough. But it is. Today is enough. And this is how I had to redirect myself today.

Today’s irrational thought:
I’m a mess. I just can’t get it together.

My reasons for this are varied and numerous. I’m not running on a schedule. I’m not accomplishing a lot at work. I’m not making and following eating plans. I’m not losing weight. I’m not feeling cute. I haven’t made a new recipe in a while. I don’t have graphs of weight trending downward. I just don’t have it together.

I think that “getting it together” is my less-neurotic-sounding way of saying “being in control.” I want control. I want stability. I want to be doing everything I can to get where I want to be. I want to have my calendars and my stickers and my menus planned out and my fridge stocked with food and homemade breakfasts and a declining weight on the Wii and a nice pretty focused food journal.

But that’s a lot to expect. I was kinda out of control for a while. I had a big hole to dig myself out of. Even though I’m not out of the hole yet, I’m a lot closer than where I was a few weeks ago.

Reality for today:
I’m making significant strides toward being “together.” And these strides are enough.

Let me tell you how the past week has been different.

•    I am straightening my hair on a consistent basis. This has so much impact on how I feel about myself.
•    I haven’t had to wear pants in the past week because I pushed snooze too many times to shave my legs.
•    I’ve been putting more time into getting accessories together to increase my cute factor.
•    I have been on time for work – not just within my 10-minute window – for the last 5 workdays.
•    I go to work every day. I haven’t been tempted to call off.
•    I’m running on days it’s under 85*. Not on a schedule, but I’m pushing myself for distance.
•    I’ve been stopping eating when I’m content. Other than the duck the other night (amazing!), I’ve not been cleaning my plate just out of habit.
•    I’ve been to Panera 3 times in the past week and have not ordered a Frozen Mocha.
•    I am where I wanted to be in my production of Christmas gifts.

I’m not even going to make a list of things I’m going to do because I am doing enough. I’m doing a little more every day. I am together. I am not as together as I’d like to be or as I used to be, but this amount of “together” is enough. And it’s a lot more “together” than I was a few weeks ago.

I’m doing this, friends. I’m getting it together.

So I’ve been feeling really…unproductive. I think it has a lot to do with not feeling like I get a lot accomplished at work since my transfer. And my lack of running. And my lack of weight loss. To that feeling of unproductivity, I tend to attach a negative feeling about myself. Because I don’t do anything, I tell myself that I’m not worth anything, I don’t deserve anything. And that belief in my inherent laziness keeps me in the self-sabatoge cycle in my weight loss efforts too.

Today’s irrational belief:

I’m lazy and I don’t do anything. All I do is lay on the couch and watch tv.

I really wanted to paint my nails. Because that will make me feel pretty and better and really doesn’t take that long. But I didn’t want to mess them up. I had a lot of things to do first.

Wait, I though. Lazy people don’t have a lot to do, do they?

So let’s talk about what this lazy chick did in one evening. In other words,

Today’s incompatible behaviors:

• I sat on the couch for an hour, snuggled with my husband, and watched last night’s Psych on DVR.
• I came home and wrote several blog posts.
• I made dinner.
• I put away like 5 loads of laundry. (I wish that was a joke.)
• I packed for a weekend with the girls.
• I made a killer (if depressing) mix cd.
• I showered – shave, hair wash, and all.
• I made a conscious decision not to exercise. Because I have a headache and because I ran out of time, not because I am lazy.

And then I painted my nails. A lovely shade of grey.

I hope looking at my nails will draw my own attention to what I do. For others, for me.

And remind me that the grey area is okay. It’s where I’m supposed to be right now. I can’t expect more of myself.

*written thursday night, posted on Saturday. Because I’ll be livin’ it up with my girls this weekend!*

I tend to operate in a polarized world. Internally, anyway. I can recognize shades of grey in the world and people around me. It’s one of my favorite things about Nathan and me. We can pick out the beauty, fun, and joy in most situations. I love all kinds of people, some more flawed than others. One of my strengths, I think, is meeting people where they are and accepting when they are giving me the best they can, even if I think I would do things differently in a situation.

But rarely do I give myself the same opportunities, the same margin for error. I’m either good or bad. Fat or thin. Weak or strong. One or the other.

Earlier this year, I was in the best shape of my life. I ran a half-marathon. Yoga was starting to come easier. I felt strong and powerful and invincible. Although I was far from satisfied with how my body looked, I was so proud of what my body could do. Blown away, actually.

But then things happened. Some things within my control and some things way (way) out of my control. And here I am. Somewhere in the middle. Still able to run, but much slower and at a severely reduced distance. Yoga is hard. I don’t cross my legs as often or as easily. Although I’m in a much better place than I was 18 months ago, but I’m no where near where I was this spring.

Today’s irrational belief:

I am weak. I am not strong, so I must be weak.

That’s bull sh!t, my friends. BS.

Today’s (okay, last night’s) incompatible behaviors:

I ran. It might not have been long and it might not have been fast, but it felt good. I ran strong.

I yoga-ed. You would have thought I would have learned from Lynn’s #7daysofyoga challenge how much I love yoga. And how good it is for me, physically and emotionally. I did Hatha Yoga #3 and I loved it. As usual. And what she said while I was in gorilla pose really hit home for me. “surrender here. breathe here. notice if you’re waiting for what’s next. be present. be here. let go of waiting.”

I’m not waiting. I’m taking control. And I’m not weak.

If I were weak, could I have ran over a mile? Without stopping? In the heat and humidity that I have avoided all summer?

Nope.

If I were weak, could I have have held the yoga poses? Could I have maintained my balance and strength?

Nope.

Just because I’m not “as strong” does not mean that I am weak. I may have been stronger in the past, but I am still strong.

Shades of grey, right?

And I will be “as strong.” Because I’ll keep running and yoga-ing and lifting and letting Bob Harper whip me into shape. Maybe not every day, but I’m getting back there.

I am not weak. Don’t ever let me tell myself that ever again.

The same goes for you. You can’t say it to yourself either. Not anymore.

Yesterday I was telling y’all about how I am self-therapizing. How I’m challenging my irrational thoughts. And it started last night.

I had a really hard evening. I got on the scale on the Wii. I was not happy. It wasn’t pretty. I also caught myself saying a lot of things to myself that I shouldn’t say.  Things I would not say about a friend. Things I would not tolerate a friend saying to me. And I’m challenging them. Daily.

Today’s irrational statement:
I’m hideous. (Sad, but true my friends.)

Did I ever actually believe that I was hideous? Unfortunately. Maybe. Briefly. When I was on the scale last night. When I put on my favorite dress and realized I couldn’t wear it to work yesterday. I knew I could not allow myself to think this way. I knew I had to change it. (Wow. I really didn’t want to admit that.)

Today’s incompatible behavior:
I straightened my hair.

It may not sound like much, but it’s a big step for me. It takes a nice chunk of time. About 40 minutes. (I have a lot of hair.) This is the third time I’ve straightened my hair since the miscarriage. I used to straighten my hair daily. But I’d stopped putting that time and effort into myself. I was content to put my hair in a curly messy ponytail or bun. I was content to do the minimal necessary to be presentable.

I have been content to sleep the extra half hour or lay on the couch in the evening. I was content to not put effort into myself. Effort I deserve. Not because I want to impress anyone else. Not because I want people to see my straight hair. But because I feel different when my hair is straight. I feel like me.

There’s just something about straightening my hair that changes me. I feel pretty when I straighten my hair. I never regret the time I spent making myself feel pretty. In fact, I feel a little bit proud that I took the time to do something for me. I feel like myself. I feel put-together. I feel pretty.

So “I’m hideous” and “I’m pretty” cannot exist together. They are mutually exclusive. And I feel pretty.

I’m choosing to feel pretty.

Because I chose to straighten my hair.

It’s amazing how such a small task can totally change my outlook on a day.

And today it totally did.

So…what did you do for yourself today?

Alright, Krissie. Let’s get this straight.

So you have a few days where you’re really focused. You eat according to plan. You run. You kick it. And then you totally sabotage yourself and eat handfuls of peanut m&ms and Indian food for lunch, right?

*hangs her head in shame*

Yup, ladies and gents. I’m right back there in that cycle.

And I don’t know how to stop it.

But the important thing is that I keep trying, right?

Right. *firm head nod*

(pity party officially over.)

So I’ve been thinking a lot about therapy. ThingsI learned about in my therapist training. Things I used to give other people to help them find their way out of funks. And I’m working on a plan. A treatment plan. For myself. Because I’m fed up. I’m tired of this loop.

And I’m tired of coming here and telling you all about it over and over.

But I do. Because I’m honest. And because I love y’all. Because I know I’m not alone.

My self-imposed and self-administered therapy starts today. And my homework starts here.

I’ve been thinking about the link between beliefs and behaviors. How they play off each other. How they influence each other. How, at different times, one may be easier to get a grip on than the other.

I think, in my current place, behaviors have a lot of influence over my beliefs. When I’m “being healthy” (for lack of a better term) my beliefs are more rational. The thoughts I have about myself make more sense and are closer to reality. But when my motivation wanes, the irrational beliefs show right back up. And then the beliefs make me want to curl up on the couch and just shut out the world. And that’s usually what I do.

I don’t know how to stop this.

But I do know what makes me feel better. In the moment. On a small, manageable scale. Behaviors – choices – that may or not be “healthy” behaviors, but aren’t unhealthy. Little things that create that sense of confidence. Importance. Achievement. Beauty. Behaviors that make that little voice inside me yell, “Krissie! You rock!” Behaviors that are incompatible to my irrational beliefs. And my promise to you is that I’m going to make these little choices. These little awesomeness-confirmation behaviors. And I’m going to share them with you.

And I’m going to challenge you to think about what those little behaviors are for you too. And then do them.

The next few days are going to be fun.

(and maybe a little girly)