I spent some time this morning journaling about the beliefs I’m carrying around about my body and health after yesterday’s experience stepping on the scale. What it stirred up was nothing short of interesting.
I never thought that I had a lot of baggage around my body, but I totally do.
Some of the beliefs I’m carrying:
- Nothing I do matters.
- I’m better off not trying, that way I won’t have to deal with the disappointment if I fail.
- Of course I’m the 1 in whatever who gains weight when working out.
- I’m lazy, not working hard enough, and have zero discipline when it comes to eating better and losing weight.
- I should know better. I’m a fucking health coach for goodness sake.
- My body never does what I want, when I want it to.
- I’m better than this. Why the hell am I letting a number dictate how I feel about myself?!
- I have no self-control and can’t be trusted around things like potato chips, chocolate, or candy.
The more I wrote, the more came up. Including these (formally buried) memories:
- As a young girl, I was a gymnast and trained 3-4 times a week for 3+ hours at a time. Even then, at PEAK fitness, I was told by a doctor that I needed to lose weight because my BMI was too high.
- As a kid, I was known to sit in front of the television and polish off an entire bag of potato chips. I was always told that it didn’t matter because I was so active. But the minute I slowed down, I’d have to be careful.
After writing it all out, I did a round of tapping (A.K.A. EFT) and felt a bit better. I know that this isn’t a quick fix or something that will go away in a day, but am looking forward to clearing out the mental clutter and getting to a space of peace and kindness with my body.