Anyways, the point is: I always failed. Sure, I'd do alright for a while, but eventually, somewhere around the end of January, life would sink into the crapper, leaving me in a thicker stew of self-hatred than the one in which I started. It's cyclical and evil and pretty damaging.
Not that I'm against goals. Without goals I never would have (almost) finished my novel or produced any of the amazing choreography that has made the last few years so rewarding.
I know everyone sees these things differently, but for me there is a clear distinction between a resolution and a goal. A goal says that I am going to write a novel. A resolution says that I am going to work on it every single day. This might be healthy and perfectly achievable for someone else, but the reality is that I can't always accomplish that. There are too many other things in my life that are deserving of my time. My jobs, my husband, my family, my friends, and my own mental stability. I don't want to feel guilty for the time that I take on these things. But, that is how my mind works. I will feel guilty. If one day I need to take a nap instead of spending time on the novel, my brain will berate me late into the night. This is what it does. It likes to obsess over rules and structure, yelling at me every time I fail.
Then, once I've failed, why not fail some more? I'm already deep in the sea of self-loathing, what difference does it make if I sink a bit further?
You can see why my diet plans inevitably failed.
Guess what? I did finally do it. I've been sitting at my goal weight for about six years now.
How? By refusing to set restrictive, crazy resolutions for myself. By learning to love food again, instead of viewing it as the enemy. By not allowing the kitchen table to be a battlefield. By accepting my body, regardless of its size. By loving what it can do. By forgiving myself.
It is so easy to hate yourself. The human mind will jump on any opportunity.
I don't want my writing desk to become a war zone. That path leads to obsession and away from love. Both can write darn good books, but, for the books I want to write, I know which path is mine.
Black Sunday Afternoon - Anna Ternheim