Moving. Moving on.

I moved again. I packed up my little house of fur and things, and trekked to another place to fill with echoes.

In the moving, I found all these old report cards from when I was a child. 7 or 8 years old. And even then, I was not kind to myself.

Hidden in between all the normal silliness of my nature – Jessie likes to talk, Jessie should entertain, Jessie should pay more attention in class, Jessie tries really hard and is a hard worker – in between all of that…

Jessie lacks self confidence.

Jessie is unsure of herself too often.

Jessie is loud.

How can an 8 year old already be so consumed with doubt, that they start to find ways to hide their nature.

How on earth can an 8 year old already be told that she does not properly fit the mold? To try harder. To fit in.

In the memory of all the things that I hold on to – I can’t remember what made me this way. Was I born like this? Doubting. Consumed with never being enough. Tortured by the power I give to others.

I just know that as I was then – so I am now.

I try really, really hard. But I give my power away too often. Too eagerly. Too quickly.

So I find solace in the solitude.

In fur.

In echoes.

In silence.

 

terry-pratchett-quotes

Smile

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I did 6 full sit-ups today. Doesn’t sound like allot does it? Sounds piffy and trite. 6 sit ups. Everyone else did 20. I only did 6.

Words can have so much power when you give them a chance. When you chose to phrase them a certain way. When you allow negativity to leech away your power, your self-esteem, your joy and your peace. Words can be a complete bastard sometimes. But only when you let them.

I only did 6 sit ups today. Everyone else could do 20.

Then again….

I only did 6 sit ups today, which is 6 more than I could do last week.

Everyone else did 20, and I am only 14 away from that. Everyone else has been doing this for many, many years. I have been doing this since 13 May, with a 3 week lung hiatus in between.

I have been doing this for roughly 3 months. And I can now do 6 full sit-ups.

I can do knee touching ground lunges.

I can squat like a girl trying to pee in long grass.

I can burpee. Badly – with almost no coordination. But I can burpee.

I can climb 9 flights of stairs. Slowly. With purpose and a heaving chest. But I can climb 9 flights of stairs and only stop once.

I can go to gym every single working day. And I can laugh and find joy and tease the other ladies and sweat and not care what I look like and shake like a tonsil and wound a hip and smile.

Smile as if the whole world is at peace.

Because today I am one step closer.

Closer to Fitness.

Closer to Strong.

Closer to Acceptance.

Closer to Love.

Closer to God.

Closer to Me.

Sometimes, you find the place you were meant to find. And it is filled with people that you were meant to find. Sometimes, God is very obvious.

#RedemptionFitnessCentre.

#ArranMckenzie.

Reflections

This last year has been a journey into the vast unknown for me. This is what I learnt:

I am not the black sheep I always thought I was. Yes, I once was a black sheep, but I have finally stopped letting that one moment of stupid define me. Mostly. Work in progress.

I am not the younger, weaker, less reliable sibling. Yes, in my life I have probably chosen or been manipulating into being that one, one too many times. That is not who I am. I have picked up a load that I would not have chosen for myself, and I have carried it rather well.

I empathize too easily. Far, far too easily. Sometimes, you have to let people deal with their own shit. Regardless of how much easier if would be if you did it for them.

I have more, and better, friends than I thought I did. Friends that take a mommy chicken when I can’t. Friends that bring me pretzels because I asked for them.  Friends that encourage and motivate and sometimes, just listen. Friends that go out of their way to be friends.

Making new friends is hard. So value the ones you have.

I need to sleep 8 hours minimum a night. If I don’t, the emotions in my head get too big for me. There is no fault in that, it runs in our family. Ensuring I get 8 hours plus a night, most nights, is me prioritizing me.

Losing a family is harder than I can ever tell anyone. But it is ok too. Loving someone means wanting what is best for them. Even if it doesn’t suit me.

It doesn’t matter how good you are, how loyal or true or kind or generous or understanding. Sometimes, because of the space that others find themselves in, you have to close a door and leave someone behind. Mourn the loss, forgive the hurt, remember the laughs. And move on.

Sometimes the load you carry feels like it will crush you into the ground. It rarely does. Unless you let it. Beyond all else, this year has taught me that actually, I am pretty damn fabulous.

Stronger than I thought.

Smarter and funnier than I believed.

Truer to my nature than others would have me believe.

Fat, fabulous, in control.

I think that sums it.

My weight is still an issue. Because I let it be. Because of massive doses of medication. Because I never learnt how to control it. But I keep trying. And despite what others say – trying matters. None of us are perfect.

Fabulous because I am me. And those that know me, will attest to that.

In control. Because what else is there?

Picture by Ann Gadd – http://artforewe.co.za/ and http://dogmaticart.co.za/