Some Assembly Required
I meet with my wellness coach, Meg, every Friday morning. She sends the session worksheets a day or two in advance, and we typically work through the material during our meetings. We start each session with me sharing a few accomplishments—or good things—that happened since we last met. Meg then invites me to discuss the challenges I faced, but we always begin with the positives.
Despite our planned session work, our time this week was overtaken by me digging into challenges that feel broader than week-to-week observations. Basically, it boils down to a very direct question:
Do you want this?
The “this” at the center of the question is my stated goal of losing weight and toning my body. I seem to be going in circles with choices around food and exercise. I struggle with the proverbial one step forward, two steps back. In fact, it often feels like one step forward, five steps back. The backward movement feels bigger because it’s coupled with guilt, shame, and self-judgment.
Why can’t I stay the course? What will it take for me to get my shit together and honor what I say I want? Self-sabotage is real, and its pull can show up in ways so buried that you don’t even recognize you’re undoing your progress.
Thankfully, Meg took the time to walk through my feelings and frustrations with me. As I mentioned in my last post, impatience is one thing that keeps coming up. Beyond that, I thought back to a conversation I had with Carla several years ago about being authentic. We talked about how I tend to be a nice person and say the right things. But it begged the question: was I being honest?
Like many people, I was raised to be polite. I also developed—or picked up—the habit of being a people pleaser. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and I typically steered clear of criticism that might be seen as too direct or sharp.
As we talked, it became clear that I was doing the same thing with Meg. I have been honest with her, but I also think I fell into the habit of saying what sounded right. I’m a pretty emotional person, but I’ve been oddly stoic when discussing my struggle with weight and eating. Where is the part of me that’s screaming inside—ready to run around the room as if my hair were on fire?
More revealing was digging past the surface to examine how this shows up in practice. I’m extremely engaged in our meetings, and I walk away feeling charged to take on my action items. But a couple of days later, the enthusiasm fades, and I’m back to the same old, same old.
I analogized it to “Sunday Christians.” You know…the folks who show up for church every Sunday, but do very little worship or reflection Monday through Saturday.
As much as I give lip service to acknowledging that change takes time, I don’t think I’ve actually embraced that truth. I walk away each Friday as if the meeting itself will transport me to the desired endpoint. That’s not how it works.
The hard truth is that I have to account for decades of behaviors, actions, and attitudes about myself. I have to lay out my habits and feelings and take a good, hard look at what serves me and what doesn’t. Only then will I be in a position to assemble—piece by piece—a more complete, self-loving self: a self that is motivated and willing to take on the challenge of moving toward my goals; a self that knows that, in many ways, there is no “end.”
There is a path, and I can’t walk it if I’m so focused on the horizon that I keep tripping—or falling into holes—right in front of me.
The big takeaway from this week’s meeting is that I want to set more immediate goals and milestones. I need daily accomplishment points that feel tangible, instead of a seemingly exclusive focus on “the long game.” If I think this through and commit to it, I believe I’ll build confidence in my ability to keep moving forward—and quiet that naysayer on my shoulder who wants me to believe I’m not capable, deserving, or worthy.