Wow, it just feels like there are so many people trying to influence me these days. Articles on how to improve my wellness from start to finish—morning routines and sleep hygiene habits. Programs that encourage me to move and tout the importance of strength training as I age. Advice on supplements and ways to journal my way to happiness and gratitude. Gadgets to track my blood glucose and sleep and stress and heart rate and steps. Most of this influence comes with a price tag, in money and time. And the requirement that I increase my motivation, discipline, and deprivation. If I just do the right things and behave properly, I will have a long and healthy and happy life. I think all of this is simply bullsh*t.
I doubt very seriously that we have nearly as much control over things as we would like to imagine. This life is so precious. It seems a shame to waste it by trying to outrun it. All I really want to do is enjoy a snack and sit in a nice chair and let go. To soak in the sun, breathe deeply the thick summer air, talk to the next person who sits beside me, read a few pages of my book, and connect to myself.
I’m a sucker for these influences (what my counselor refers to as external validation). Somehow I got it in my head that parts of me were “bad” and needed to be banished, or at the very least monitored and controlled. I’ve been trying to listen to these parts with curiosity and let them have their say. There is the part that tries to tell me I am wrong to like myself. That part that says I could do better or be more. The part that tells me I am never good enough in ways both small and large. I call her Marge because she is large and likes to steal the show. She acts as though she is in charge. She is loud and relentless. It’s hard to hear words of kindness over her bossy directives. As I sit and rest, I ask her what she is trying to tell me. When I am quiet and still, I can hear her whisper. I am afraid that if I do not keep trying to be better, I will be hopelessly left out and left behind. I will be different and different is not acceptable. I will not belong. It turns out that Marge is trying to help me. She is trying to protect me from pain. She is not a bad part. She simply wants reassurance from me that we will be okay. That we can withstand the ways we are different.
