Beginning Again vs. Starting Over
The thing I love about working with my coach, Meg, is that she steers me toward real discoveries and aha moments. She laughed yesterday when I commented that it can sometimes take 45 minutes of an hour-long session for me to unearth a useful nugget, but the value of the discoveries is always worth the time it takes to excavate them. I may share more about yesterday’s major “find” at some point, but I’m still unpacking what it means and how I want to work through it.
Something else came up in our meeting yesterday, though, and it led me to write this post.
I think one of the hardest parts of making meaningful change is breaking away from old—often lifelong—habits and behaviors. I don’t know what those habits are for you, but in my case they’re weight loss and poor body image. Poor body image speaks for itself. Weight loss, however, is a bit of a catch-all. More specifically, I’m talking about food choices and portion control, physical movement, and identifying and addressing the triggers that lead to (or allow for) poor choices.
What has been nagging me for quite a while is the challenge of making commitments or intentions stick. I feel like I’m living the proverbial “one step forward, two steps back” scenario. I get excited about making a food plan for the week. I go to the store and buy everything I need. Two or three days later, I’m sitting in a slump, full of guilt after eating two veggie hot dogs and some oven-baked Ore-Ida fries.
How did that happen?
Ugh. OK. Get your shit together, Matthew. Shake it off and start over.
Here is the rub with my idea of starting over: it means I’m going all the way back to zero.
I never thought about how that mindset has created—or at least fed—a sneaky defeatist attitude. Somewhere in my psyche, knowing I’m going back to zero discourages me from trying. I get tired of taking steps toward a healthier me only to find myself back at the starting line again… and again… and again.
I thought about a quip from that wise sage, Homer Simpson: “Can’t win. Don’t try!” Sometimes I even find myself saying I’m on the path toward healthy eating and consistent exercise—only to self-sabotage by ignoring portion control or by not pushing myself to be challenged on my bike rides or during gym workouts.
As I talked through this dynamic with Meg, she reminded me to give myself space and permission to begin again. In that moment, I revisited a concept from Mark Nepo—life is about a “practice of return.”
"Being human is to always be in return: to sacredness, to wakefulness, to the fact that we’re on the same journey, alone and together. We’re safe, then afraid. We’re calm, then agitated. We’re clear, then confused. We’re enthusiastic, then numb. We long for the moments of lift and run from the moments that weigh us down. But the inescapable rhythm of life lifts us and weighs us down by turns, just as the ocean swells and dips with each wave. When we lose our way, each of us is challenged to discern and embody a very personal practice of return -- to what matters and to what has heart."
Living a healthier lifestyle and taking better care of my body matter to me, and I feel that my practice of return is what allows me to keep trying. With that said, I never gave much thought to the cumulative emotional toll of “starting over.” Back to the starting line.
As I talked to Meg about how this dynamic hollowed me out, I paused to question how I’ve been viewing this pattern. The more I thought about it and talked it out, the more I stumbled into a fresh perspective on rebounding from poor decisions.
I had to ask myself: why does beginning again have to mean completely starting over?
The short answer is: it doesn’t.
I’ve spent years throwing the baby out with the bathwater every time I made a choice that didn’t serve my goals. I would discount the progress—no matter how small—and decide that everything before the mistake was just part of the road to failure. So I’d scrap everything and start anew.
Yesterday it hit me that treating a poor choice as anything other than isolated is a big part of why I feel, under the surface, that I’m incapable of truly being healthy and physically fit. I’ve joked with friends about how I’ve had an all-or-nothing relationship with things—situations, beliefs, faith, people—over the years. It only dawned on me yesterday that the same mindset has been shaping my approach to a healthy lifestyle.
I hit one obstacle or roadblock, and I fold up the tent and go back to what soothes my wounds: eating and lethargy.
I know it will take time to establish a mindful practice of return—to know the difference between beginning again and starting over. I have to embrace the notion that a poor choice—whether on day 12 or day 82—doesn’t negate or invalidate all the work, progress, and experience gained in the preceding days. Making a poor choice is not an indictment or a confirmation that I’m incapable of change and consistency.
If I flip it around, it’s simply another chance to keep moving toward my goals—again and again.
