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I have bouts of insomnia. LONG bouts of insomnia. Someone suggested that I should brain dump. I usually just write until my mind is uncluttered. No real beginning, a little sporadic and no real ending. Here is an excerpt from one of those dumps.
What would you do if you weren’t afraid?
I have seen this statement, or some variation, a lot lately. I’ve seen it so much that I am convinced it is God’s way of throwing pebbles at me.
The last time I saw that saying, I was watching the LeanIn author on O.prah. I then wrote a two page list (back and front) of all the things I would do if I wasn’t afraid of failing.
Fear of the unknown is crippling. Fear of the unknown for me puts me in a choke hold of doing nothing. I get so overwhelmed with the ‘what if’ scenarios I don’t do anything.
Then I ask myself, "when did you tuck my nuts away? What happened to the ballsy chick you used to be?" I see glimpses of her but the full on bad ass? Shrug
I talk myself out of greatness every day. Every.Single.Day.
I'm stopping that shyt immediately! That's not who I know I am.
I was sharing a dream job scenario with my mom a few months ago and I started going down a list of the things I didn’t know regarding stepping into that dream job. Her simple statement to me was: “You know more than you think.”
That statement has stuck with me, "You know more than you think."
My weight is so out of control. I was looking for something to wear the other day and I for real sat in my closet and cried when none of my "ideal weight" clothes no longer fit properly.
When I had my big weight loss a couple of years ago, I got rid of most of my fat clothes. I kept a couple of things as a reminder of how far I’d come; to keep me motivated. I cried because I am inching back into those items.
After feeling sorry for myself, I pulled Deebo (my scale) out, weighed myself, and felt sorry for myself a little while longer, moped for a couple of days then got it together and decided on a plan of attack.
Movement is key for me; I manage my food pretty well.
I will no longer make excuses to not take PROPER care of myself.
I will not turn 40 and be the cute, fat friend hiding behind oversized clothes like a wallflower again.
Balls to the wall...that expression has always cracked me up...