All in coaching
Hello from the exact moment the maintenance man knocked on our door to fix our washer/dryer that had locked wet clothes inside for a full day (if you follow me on Instagram, you may remember this series of stories I put up, trying to crowdsource solutions), when Leonidas WAS NOT HAVING IT.
I learn lessons from this dude all the time.
It's lovely to sit around and talk about how comparison is the thief of joy, and it is. What are the above thoughts doing for me, other than making me feel like shit about myself and celebrate others less fervently?
But, often, I find, knowing that we, "shouldn't" do something isn't enough to make us *actually* stop doing it.
You know?
If you're here, it's likely you've tried quite a few diets and exercise plans throughout your life, very few of which have made the lasting changes you were hoping.
You've tried the 21-day-"fixes," the grapefruit diets, the plans in Self magazine (I'm not picking on them, really; that was one of the first places I ever saw any sort of structured workout myself!), and they've all yielded lackluster results.
It's also highly likely that you've realized this is a pattern, and one you'd like to break.
As more of us in fitness decide we want to let go of harmful patterns (e.g., the binge/restrict cycle, over-exercising/burnout cycle), are we helping ourselves understand what to do next?
If you spend much time on the internet, particularly in the personal development and/or fitness mindset space, it's likely you've heard quite a bit of talk about, "rewriting your stories," and, "releasing that which no longer serves you."
Rather than the freedom these phrases were likely intended to impart, I was left with a slow-burning rage:
OKAY, YOU SUPER-EVOLVED BEING IN THIS TINY INSTAGRAM SQUARE, BUT HOW? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
*insert failure and shame*
This is a note from my journal one week into my senior year of high school.
This is one of the times that journaling really tugs at your heartstrings. If you don’t have a regular journaling practice, I’d encourage you to start, even if it’s just one line in your planner or on your phone about how you felt that day, and this is why: you gift yourself the opportunity to witness your growth in real time.
We tell ourselves we'll be happy when we're small enough, we'll eat the cheesecake on Friday when we've earned it, we'll love ourselves when we hit our goals.
We believe the freedom to wear a bathing suit, the deliverance that allows one to choose the curly fries as well as the salad, and the liberation to appear in candid photos are things for other people.
(Who are those people? We don't know, but they're certainly not us.)
We keep aiming to shrink ourselves, and, as a result, we stay hidden.
How's that working for you?
Sometimes I think we make fitness and nutrition more complicated than they need to be.
"Easy for you to say; you have a degree in this, and you've worked in this field for almost a decade. The rest of us don't have that knowledge and are supposed to eat low-carb and go on 74 walks a day one day, low-fat and nothing but short intense workouts the next," you might be thinking, and I get that.
But I firmly believe the barrier to entry feels so steep by design: if the world keeps you believing there's a secret or, "one weird trick," then you won't trust your own body or yourself, and you'll hand over whatever you have to restore that feeling of competence that seems to be locked in a golden tower.
Monday morning did roll around, carrying an unwieldy dose of guilt and shame every time.
I’d wake up, feel badly for not, “sticking to the plan,” wondering why I couldn’t just have one, “cheat meal,” why I had to do this every time, why anyone ever saw anything in me other than a fraud, and I’d step on the scale.
I lived and died by that number.
If it wasn’t too far off my Friday weight, then I somehow, “got away with,’ eating foods that didn’t work for me, because my feelings didn’t matter if they weren’t reflected on the scale.
If I WAS far off my Friday weight (which I often was), I was a failure, and the only solution was to buckle down even harder the next week, promising myself that this week, a “cheat meal,” would be just one meal.
Been there? How’s it working for you?
Your alarm goes off, and you blearily rub your eyes as the mechanical beep (or, you know, the sounds of The Rock Clock) ring in your ears.
It's still dark outside. You're dreading putting your feet on the cold floor, but the bills don't pay themselves, so you swing around, hunt for your slippers (you missed one, so now you're awake), and head to the bathroom.
As you brush your teeth, you look in the mirror and take in your presence for the first time today.
What do you say to yourself?
I've been there too: wanting desperately to change. Not certain I could, but hoping I would anyway.
Wondering if it was possible, or if all of the messaging and articles and products were simply designed to play on my insecurities.
Aching for relief from questioning why I couldn't just buckle down for 30, 60, or 90 days and do what all of those ads promised.
“No one ever told me it wasn’t about my body before.
It was never about me. Nobody before you. I hope you know that has given me the ability to move in the world with less fear and shame; I can be entirely myself without disclaimers and I get to reclaim all of that energy and put it into things and people I love.
It has an impact on every single person around me.
No one told me that I can be as smart and insightful as I am and STILL not know that it isn’t my body’s fault and it isn’t about my body.
I can be a genius and still be fucked up by these things, but I don’t have to be anymore.”
And neither do you.
The day I realized that I could use exercise for something other than losing weight, my world changed.
I’ve told the story before, but the Cliff’s Notes version: I was sick as hell (strep throat, no insurance, riding it out with some Popsicles and a blankie), no one by my side (I was deep in the swill with the most familiar of swine, to quote @hozier), and I just wanted to feel capable of one motherfucking glob-damn thing, so I picked up a barbell and saw what happened.
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