You all know that I love a little Alexandra Franzen. I love her site. I love her words. I love her the things that she makes me think.
But, most of all? I loved this post. It’s ok.. you can skip on over and read it, I’ll wait.
Your unresolved stories are sick. More specifically — they’re making you sick.
Unresolved stories are like ancient poison. Not enough to kill you. Just enough to numb out your potential.
What’s your broken-record track?
What’s the ancient spiel your best friend or partner have long-since learned to tune out?
What’s the New Year’s resolution that garners a recurring spot, every year?
What’s gone on so long, it’s laughable? Ridiculous? Supremely unacceptable?
And what’s it going to take to tear that old story outta the book of your life, with a violent riiiii-iiiip?
Right off. Yeowch. Like a band-aid. It’s time. And a half.
Let the healing begin.
Now lets chat about those things that art tying you town. What IS it with those things? Why do they have so much pull in your life? Why is your identity so bound up in letting go of them?
It’s like you wouldn’t know who you were if you were to let them go.
Are you with me? It’s like, I were to finally _____________, I simply wouldn’t understand myself anymore. Insert the thing that has been on the top of your to do list for the last ten years.
For the majority of my life lose weight was firmly ensconced in the number one spot on my PLANS FOR THIS WEEK/MONTH/YEAR/LIFETIME list. I wanted to lose weight above all else.
Because, of course, my life was going to begin once I was skinny, right?
Everyone was going to want to be my lover. I was going to wear the hottest outfits. I was going to shock and awe with my brilliance, because, of course, once I was skinny I would finally deserve the right to talk, out loud, to people other than my dad. Once I was skinny, my life was magically going to begin.
So then twenty years passed me by. Literally. And all that time I was busily holding my breath, waiting waiting waiting to become skinny and for my life to begin.
Finally, I realized I just had to throw that that entire believe system in the dumpster.
And you know what? It really fucking hurt. It was like I was nothing without my weight loss efforts. It was like I didn’t even know how to talk to people without making disparaging comments about my body to connect with them in our mutual self-loathing.
I should mention that I had other things on my list, like: run 3 miles, fall madly in love with someone and let them love me back, wear a bikini, perform on stage, get a tattoo, and be Liv Tyler from Empire Records for Halloween.
Would you believe me if I told you that all of these things hinged delicately on the first goal? The weight loss goal? Yep.
But once I threw that goal away, once I just decided that I wasn’t going to do that anymore, I started believing that I deserved things.
I wore a bikini.
I got a tattoo.
I had my own night at a dance club, as a hula-hoop go-go dancer, and I climbed up on top of a speaker and hooped for hours. A speaker. Seriously. Neverinmywildestdreams.
I fell in love. I got engaged. I let someone love me.
I ran three miles.
Once I permitted myself to be more than just the size of my body, my life started unfolding all around me, after 20 years of waiting.
What story is making you sick? What are you ready to let go of?