Cut It Out

It is one thing to be able to identify that which is holding you back, it is an entirely different thing to decide to eliminate those variables…and still another to actually do it. There is a great wave that comes when you conquer one thing: you discover another, and then another, in what can seem like an endless storm of change. This is when I’ve cried in frustration, whining to the universe, rationalizing that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. It’s not magic, it’s running up the hill through tears yelling “come on you stupid bitch,” it’s choosing to do it again the next day and the next; until instead of calling yourself names you’re giving yourself a high five. It’s ok to feel unhappy and pissed and ugly and upset and defeated. It’s unrealistic to imagine floating on a petal of self love into the garden of being a badass.
I have weeded out my vices like a gardner for the Queen of Hearts. Sometimes I have painted the roses red, and the consequences are much like a beheading: they are the crash of self esteem, feeling defeated but knowing it’s your own damn fault. You were the one who drank three martinis instead of going to bed and waking up early to give your body what it really needs: good food and exercise.
At times it has felt like a break up, I know I have to walk away so I can be the best me possible. Yet the anguish of saying goodbye to the cigarettes hiding in my cabinet is a dramatic final scene in a movie. If I can just see it for what it is, a bad habit, it becomes much less daunting. I think I love my vices, I think they make me feel good, but they cannot love me back.

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