According to Webster's dictionary, success is a "favorable or desired outcome; also: the attainment of wealth, favor, or eminence."
As a teacher, I can't even begin to count how many times in a
So, you haven't gotten your assignment notebook signed for two weeks and now you have remembered for three days in row? Success! You bet I'm going to fall all over that! You have gone an entire day without getting into a physical or verbal match on the playground? Hip-hip-hooray! At the end of the day, I want my students to remember that success can come when you make a goal, actively work toward it, and reach it...or even come near reaching it! It's more about the people we are than what we attain or how we look.
I know those of you reading this probably are nodding your heads thinking, "Um...yeah. No kidding." But that's because you are awesome and that is why we are friends. However, many people don't think this way.
In the US, success often equals having it all...regardless of the work put in. Have you achieved the marks of high society? Do you own nice things, do you have a wide range of influential friends, do you have a high-paying job? Will people be impressed by you? Now, I realize this is a generalization, but I think a fair one. Many people measure success by what you have and do.
Sure. All of those things are nice to have and obviously make life a little easier. I won't deny that to some degree I've been spoiled in my life. However, I also choose to live my life always trying to improve myself in one way or another...physically, mentally, or spiritually...not only counting up my treasures.
For a long time and even now, I know that I measure my success almost solely on my weight and physical appearance. If I'm not skinny, I'm a failure. I literally had this thought Saturday morning...and it hit me that I truly believe my mark of success is whether or not I'm in single digit pant sizes or a 26" waist.
I'm back up to 153. Scary number. 8 pounds away from where I started almost 1-1/2 ago. A friend recently mentioned she's less than 150 and she's about 6 months pregnant. I am very proud of her because she works hard, running and watching what she eats. However, it makes me searingly mad at myself for being so lazy and fat. And then I cry, cry, cry and have a pity party for myself - which does not help melt pounds! I wish it did...I'd be back in the 130s in no time. I understand that it takes dedication and and hard work, which I'm not doing right now. So, I only have myself to blame.
Since I was in grade school, I've had a love/hate relationship with my body. I've loved to hate it and it's something that continues on today. Today, there are plenty of articles about how we need to communicate with young girls about more than their looks. When I was in grade school, that wasn't the case! I can't speak for anyone else, but know that I always relied on others to tell me if I was attractive enough to feel so.Does that even make sense? I don't know how to write that in a different way.
For most people, negative comments make a deeper imprint than positive ones. So, by no way am I saying that no one ever gave me compliments growing up. Admittedly, the compliments rarely came from the peers I often hoped for...especially not the "cute" boys I so terribly crushed on.
Hurtful words make pockets in your heart that the compliments can't always fill back up.
In preparations for our move, I've been going through a lot of boxes, stirring up memories. I found diaries recounting my first Weight Watchers meeting (grade school), trying Jenny Craig (high school), starving myself (which worked pretty well!). Entries listing comments about boys calling me Thunder Thighs, a girl in high school asking me why I looked so much like a man, two years of a man I thought I loved nit-picking every feature of my body telling me it wasn't attractive or good enough, off-handed remarks from friends of friends about my dark circles "raccoon eyes" or my "stocky" figure, and my own dark ideas on how to make it all better. Some of these entries were pretty painful to read, especially those that were so venomous at such a young age.
How do you retrain your brain? I've been thinking this way for 25+ years. How do you slip into your skin and really feel comfortable? I've tried the whole "pick one feature you really like" and go with that. Or the "Get Over It! Everyone has insecurities." That may be true, but I don't like my frame of mind.
I fear that I eventually will pass this self-deprecating talk and constant hatred down to my future children, which would be terrible. As we are not pregnant (another source of frustration I'm working through), you may say...don't worry about that now!
But let me share something:
Last summer, Steve and I were walking around the streets of Colonial Williamsburg. I was at the height of my workout-healthy eating phase. We were discussing how a part of me wishes I could see my birthparents to know if my wide hips, thick thighs, and scary veins are inherited or grown on my own. I was curious if my nose just happened to turn out this way or if I resembled one of my birthparents.
This conversation quickly turned to my Hannah (the name I use for my birthdaughter). I am glad, for her, through our open adoption, that she can look at me and know what features she got from me. She has the opportunity to know that I started to gray around 30, my skin is freckled just like hers, and her height clearly was not from me. Sometimes, I fear that she will look at me and be disappointed or scared of what the future holds for her physically.
I had expressed some concern to Steve that she had gained a little weight (something her mom told me was bugging Hannah) and I was worried about how she would deal with it. I certainly don't want her to struggle with weight like I have. Thankfully, Hannah is a level-headed kiddo and good at looking at herself as a whole. She decided to workout with her WII Dance game and make some small food changes, because she wanted to feel better. She did it! She's already losing that tween look that was starting to bug her a bit and in its place gained about 4 inches. The kid is taller than me and she's 13!
The main fear I have is that when that time comes, I really want to promote healthy mental and physical habits for our kids, not focus too heavily on the importance of the outside shell. It breaks my heart when I hear kids calling other people "fatty" or "chunky", especially at a young age.
All in all, I need to learn from my own birthdaughter that it's more important to look at the whole picture and be proud of myself.
My goal this summer, in between moving, camping, exploring, and hopefully relaxing, is to really work on being happy with me.
How do you retrain your brain when necessary?
