There’s a lot of stuff I want to do in my life, and I’m not really quiet or secret about it.
I want to be debt free. I want to be at a healthier weight. I want to be consistent at things I love, like blogging. I want to read more books. I want to actually avoid gluten and dairy in my diet.
So I’ll make a plan. I’ll research and I’ll prep and I will get so freaking close to my goal that I can taste it, and then I will sabotage myself. Like the time I was almost to my goal weight and then I said “screw this I want to eat cookies,” and now I’m right back where I started (side note: my antidepressants, which have been mostly amazing, have caused me to gain weight so I’m trying to not beat myself up over this one… though I do choose to eat cookies more than I choose to abstain because.. well, cookies). I was SO CLOSE to paying off my credit card debt, and then I kind of went crazy with my credit card and now I literally owe twice as much as I did the last time I updated y’all.
I’ve been thinking about why this is.
I seriously think I’m scared of succeeding.
In general, I’m a quitter. I love the gearing up process. I can meal prep and research and make a detailed plan like no other. I can start things pretty well, but I rarely finish them. I lose interest or change my mind or just kind of decide to take a break, which is always hard to reboot.
I think I quit because I’m scared to succeed.
It sounds so stupid, I know! But hear me out.
As the chubby kid in all the circles, I assumed “if I lost weight, I’d be happy because clothes would look better on me and boys would notice me.”
…but what if that wasn’t true? What if I lost weight and was still unhappy?
What if I blogged consistently and my blog still never took off the ground?
What if I paid off all of my debt and still felt like money was too tight?
What if, what if, what if.
Success is kind of uncharted territory. It’s the view at the top of a steep mountain with a journey ahead, and I think I always decide that whatever is on the other side MIGHT be better but I can sit on this poky log and just learn to enjoy where I’m at, as if it is some big, heroic act.
It’s almost like treading water indefinitely because the sand on the shore might hurt your feet, you know? It’s just dumb.
But that’s where I’m at, and I’m trying to figure out a way to get up and keep climbing, because I’m starting to get curious about the view on the other side.
Can anybody else relate to this or am I completely alone and crazy in this?
