Brain Sprain

Many moons ago I had a tantrum and chucked out the bathroom scale. I was sick of its siren song that only led to a crappy mood for the rest of the day. (I wrote about it HERE.) I've gotten to where I don't even think about it most of the time and I have given zero thoughts to buying a new one. I like that my house is a scale-free zone.

Instead, I pay attention to how my clothes fit and how I feel in general...and lately my clothes have been getting a little looser and I feel like a superhero. I've been eating well and training hard, consistently. I'm starting to wonder about my weight, and though I live in a scale-free zone, I do not work in a scale-free zone..in fact right at this moment there's a state-of-the-art scale with bio electric impedance analysis four feet away from me, insidiously whispering "Hey! You're making progress! Don't you want to know what the numbers look like?" 

It would be really easy to hop on and find out how my body has changed.

This is bad, and here's why: I am afraid. I'm afraid that if I get on the scale my bubble will pop, because I know that I am still a long, long way from where I'd like to be. No amount of improvement will seem like enough...and the spiral staircase of shame and depression isn't that far away. These days it's behind me and I'm slowly walking away from it which feels amazing - SUCH a relief - but I know it's there and if I trip I might fall down again. My clumsiness has been known to put Jar Jar Binks to shame.

 Picture this: you've sprained your ankle. A few weeks or months have gone by and it feels pretty good. In fact, it's totally fine and there's no reason not to continue with life as usual. So you go for a walk one day, and you take a funky step (maybe on a root or an uneven sidewalk or you slip on some ice) and WHEEEOOO holy mother of )(&*@#$*(($*%& frip frappin ding DANG!
A few hours later you're sitting on your couch grumpily crunching down ibuprofen and icing your ankle which has somehow grown a set of donkey testicles again.

If you've ever had a physical injury, the rule is that you usually feel pretty good once you're healed 80% of the way...and that's where your risk of re-injury is at its highest, because you guessed it - you let your guard down. Depression is the same, although we don't tend to treat it that way: once you go down that road, your risk of relapsing is high until you've healed ALL THE WAY. Which takes a (sometimes surprisingly) long time.

So I'm not falling into that trap again. I like what's happening here too much to risk another trip into funkytown...and honestly the idea of seeing if I can get on the scale and remain objective wearies me. I'd much rather spend my energy monitoring the weight on the bar!

My Hygiene is Terrible

There, I said it. 

I thought I was going to die when my alarm went off at 4:24 this morning. I seriously felt like I had been asleep for about 5 minutes.

Now, while normally I am a morning person, I am not one to leap out of bed and enthusiastically greet the day with yoga or running or whatever. Generally my morning routine consists of breakfast (I wake up ready to eat a hole in the fabric of the universe so don't get between me and my oatmeal!), and sufficient coffee to get my brain functioning on a level where I am capable of completing a word
game or sudoku...and then I head to work.

Oh wait, were you waiting for stories about how I don't own a toothbrush or wash the bath towels? 

Sorry guys. I'm talking about sleep hygiene. (I think I smell okay most of the time. If I don't you have
to tell me!) 

Anyway. I actually quite like my morning routine and I get pretty grumpy if anything interferes with it, so hitting the snooze button until it's time to jump out of bed, throw on clothes, and guzzle coffee spiked with egg whites and protein powder while I'm driving to work (although that makes a pretty kick-ass quick-ass breakfast if that's how you roll) kinda colours the rest of my day. So, since my work day starts at 5:30am most of the time, and going to bed at 8:30pm isn't really a viable option, 

how on earth do I make this happen? 

If I had answered that question a couple of years ago, I would have answered thusly: "I can sleep when I'm dead! Sleepiness is weakness of character!"

But really what was happening back then was that I'd muscle my way through the week getting progressively stupider, until Friday when I'd spend my work day asking people to stick a kettlebell in their ear using their elbows. Then I'd go home and crash at 7pm, wake up on Saturday at 9am and steel myself to do it all again. It wasn't good. And I burned out. 

So when it came time to get back to the early morning routine, I needed a plan in order to not go down in flames. Getting to bed earlier wasn't an option, so what was left? 

NAPS. 

Ladies and gents, I have turned into a grown-up toddler who gets foul and weepy and dangerous if she doesn't get forty winks in the afternoon. I didn't start this habit on purpose. I used to get home from work, grab some food, and sit down in front of the computer to eat and get some work done and I would wake up two hours later, one side of my face covered in drool and imprinted keyboard keys. After a few of these narcoleptic episodes I decided not to fight it anymore. 

Going to bed in the evening is another story though: when I get into bed, I have this problem where I feel compelled to play silly preschool games on my phone until I have to use scotch tape to keep my eyes open (and I do sometimes, just to get another level done) even though I know better. I know you're supposed to turn the screens of an hour before bed to get better sleep. So, who's with me? Chances are, you need better sleep too, so let's make a deal. Why don't we put our phones away at 9pm for the next 30 days, and we'll see what happens?

Yay Fall!

Happy New Year!

Because seriously, although I'm a fan of January 1st, the first week of September feels like the new year to me. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that line of thinking; we're programmed like that from age 5 (or earlier!) to have our new start in September...and I love it. Everything feels new and crisp and fresh and it's exhiliarating. Am I right?

So in honor of the new year, and also because I wrote almost nothing over the summer, it's time to really get crazy and revamp this whole page! I mean, it's looked the same for three years - it's high time for a bit of a face lift.

I am excited for this year. Like, really really excited. Like, I might have peed a little bit just now thinking about the year ahead. Now, I realize that last year at this time I said the same thing, and it ended up being a pretty rocky phase of life. Do I regret it though? Not one bit.

Well, maybe a little.

Actually, why I insist on learning all my lessons the hard way is beyond me.

Still, the learning!! The lessons I learned last year are ones I will keep with me forever, and I am better because of them. Adversity has only one thing going for it: it's an opportunity to learn, grow stronger...

And then take some really big strides forward.

Here's what I'm excited about for this year, in no particular order. Ready?

I have found a new sport to love: powerlifting. My current project is to get ready for PowerSurge, Alberta's longest running powerlifting meet. It's November 14th, 10 weeks away.

I started this project out of necessity (I was dealing with some drug side effects and couldn't train the way I always used to), out of desperation for a project where I could effectively banish negative thoughts about my weight, but also because lifting really heavy things makes me happy. It has turned out to be a really good fit and I am pretty freaking psyched. I'll keep you posted on that project here.

I have a new blog! Check it out:

grayareagalley.blogspot.ca

Lots of you have asked about my recipes, and up until now I have always shrugged my shoulders in despair because here's the truth: I never, ever cook from a recipe so I haven't ever really had any to pass on! But I have started writing some of them down, as well as some of my thoughts on nutrition and the elusive balance between weight management and liking life. I hope you enjoy it and find some useful ideas there. (Please share it if you do.)

Stick around 'cause other cool stuff is happening over here!

ALL or NOTHING

In another life, all I wanted to do was be a musician. I couldn't fathom doing anything else and couldn't see any use in even considering other career choices. A well-rounded education was a waste of time as far as I was concerned - that was only for people who were unsure of what they wanted to do. People who weren't committed. Not me. There was only one thing I loved.

We all know how that turned out! And it wasn't a bad thing that life didn't play out that way - instead I fell in love with a musician and had a couple of babies...and babies really throw a wrench into soaring career trajectories! Suddenly, when people called our house to hire both of us for an engagement, our stock response became "well, one of us can do it..." And, you know, one of us usually meant the one NOT nursing and half-crazed from post-partum depression and sleep loss.

I played less and less, until it seemed pointless to even hang onto all of my instruments and I sold all but one of them. Years went by and I didn't play at all - didn't really even think about it. I mean, life was pretty full - I had two small kids, a new career (that I was wildly enthusiastic about), and new goals to chase. But every once in a while, I'd go watch Joel play and I'd think "damn, I miss playing music!"

But then I'd go home and forget about it. Sometimes I'd pick up my bass trombone and play a little and then put it away, frustrated and sad over how much I'd lost. I didn't identify myself as a musician anymore. I avoided even listening to good music; it took too much attention.

All or nothing.

Sounds like a big ol' sob story, doesn't it? Here's the thing though: when I was pursuing a music career, I wasn't happy. I mean, there were moments of pure joy which made it worth it, but generally I lived in a prison inside my head where the warden was constantly berating me for not being better. I hated practicing because there was just me and that voice in my head telling me I wasn't good enough, that I was a disappointment to everyone who ever cared about or invested in me.

So getting some distance from music was a good thing.

And then, about a year ago, I fell in love with it again. But this time around, I am doing it for me. I have let go of the idea that I will ever be world-class and am playing purely for the fun of it. I've been listening to all the great music that I've been avoiding for ten years. I'm cautiously but happily referring to myself as a musician again...and it's AWESOME, Jelly-Man.

So what changed?


I'll tell you what changed: it doesn't have to be all or nothing anymore.

(To be continued...)






 

One door closes...

...and another one opens. Just like that.

Sometimes closing a door is a relief. There's freedom in commitment. (Wasn't that on a Starbucks cup or something?) Anyway, too many open doors is not a good thing, trust me: I spent the last sixteen months in a weird limbo-land where all the doors hung open but I couldn't actually go through any of them because I was waiting for them to line up in the proper order. Instead I got fed up and kicked a bunch of them shut, and though it didn't feel good at the time, it was the right move. Now I can focus.

With that in mind, it's time for some re-evaluation. A funny thing happens when you let go of a career goal that you've held close for any length of time: it makes you realize how much you've defined yourself by that goal...and not by who you are RIGHT NOW.

I'm taking this week off to get my head around them apples, because what a mind job! At the same time, it's an opportunity to take a closer look at what my strengths are and play to those, rather than focussing on trying to fix my weaknesses. You know all those stupid sayings that lululemon and their ilk like to plaster all over the place, like "Go toward what scares you" and "Leave your comfort zone behind" and "Until you spread your wings, you'll have no idea how far you can fly"? Well, after sixteen months of trying to be what I'm not, I say fuck all that nonsense. Embrace who you are, right now, and do what you love and what you do best. Everything else is for someone else to do.

Because here's the thing: I am not a type A, driven, entrepreneurial business person. I'm just not. And there's nothing wrong with that. What I am good at is building relationships, coaching, and helping other people be their best, one step at a time. And when I'm done doing that with a bunch of people each day, I want to go home to my family, chill out, maybe play some music or write or work on whatever creative project I have going. Someone else can take care of the nuts and bolts of running a business...which is why I am putting the Gray Area Fitness Studio notion to bed, and going back to World Health.

Now, almost everyone I have told about this has expressed their condolences...which, you know, I appreciate because it WAS my dream and I failed at making it a reality. But it wasn't making me happy, and I am 100% confident that diving headfirst back into my comfort zone is the right thing to do. Letting go of the dream and kicking that door closed feels GOOD. You know why?

Because that was me dreaming of BEING SOMEONE ELSE. And maybe I had to go through all this to figure out that being me is awesome in all sorts of ways that I didn't appreciate. But don't worry, the Gray Area brand is here for the long haul - there's a new project in the works. Stay tuned!

The Heavy Lifting

 Building a really good fire takes some work. Once it's burning merrily, all you have to do is throw another log in every so often to keep it going.

If you run out of logs, eventually the fire will go out.

I'm not sure my fire is all the way out - there may still be some embers glowing away in there. In fact, I'm sure there are; you can't keep a bonfire that size going for years and expect it to just go out over a couple of months. But I am clean out of fuel to keep it going.

The fire I'm referring to here is the shame I have felt over my appearance for most of my life. I haven't wanted to write about this because I wanted to be sure before I put it out there. If you've been around here for a while you know that I've flip-flopped on this a few times. But something has changed over the last two months:

I have run right out of fucks to give on this matter.

And you know what? It feels great, but in a weird, guilty way - like I've stolen something and gotten away with it. Ever since I was a kid I've had it in my head that in order to be - what? Good? Worthy of love or respect? I had to be lithe, athletic, and competitive. Anything less was embarrassing and bad and needed fixing. I've been trying to hate myself thinner since I was ten years old.

So what changed? Well, it wasn't a single event. After the great gym meltdown of a couple of months ago and my subsequent decision to stop worrying about what other people thought and just be me (which seems trite when I put it like that but I promise it hasn't been easy), it seemed like the next logical step was to accept what is.

And what is, is this:

I am overweight, this is true. But I am not JUST overweight - I am so much more than that, that the weight thing doesn't even bear mentioning in this context. I'm a trainer, a musician, a writer, an athlete, mother, wife, sister, friend, foodie...

...and I have had it with tying myself into knots trying to look a certain way. I'm not even going to try anymore, 'cause here's the thing: I work out because I enjoy it. Finding where my limits are each day and pushing them just enough feels awesome.  There's an art to building a really great exercise program that demands intuition, creativity, empathy, and oh yeah, some science doesn't hurt either I guess. Along the same lines, I eat well because it makes me feel good. But also, creating healthy recipes and meals that taste good and look pretty and help people feel like this eating well thing is manageable and sustainable, makes me ridiculously happy.

So this is me truckin' on, doing the same things I've always done...not doing them angrily and frantically in pursuit of a specific outcome (which still may be out of reach), but because those are the things I love the most. Did I mention I love lifting weights? Consider that weight LIFTED, bitches!

Moving Forward Again

Dear World,
I got pretty angry at you last week. Now that we've had a few days to cool off, let's talk it out - what do you think?

I've had a crazy flood of messages come at me over the weekend, which is awesome (and really I was pretty overwhelmed at the outpouring of support so thanks again everyone) because my goal here is to call out the elephants in the room, to get people to notice them and acknowledge them and hey, maybe even start up a conversation and get some understanding going on both sides. Yes, I did mean for that double entendre to happen. Yes, it's a little offensive. But the shoe fits.

Here's the thing though, and a lot of you mentioned it - I dare say a lot more of you read my rant and thought it but didn't want to say anything - but don't worry, I was thinking it too:
Whose hang-up is this anyway? Am I just projecting all my own shit all over everyone? Is it my issue or everyone else's?

The answer is, it's gray area. (Okay, I'll stop with the double entendres now. Ha.) Of course lots of it came from my own head. Probably some of the people I ran into at the gym just didn't see me or recognize me...but it wasn't ALL me. There's no way. And this isn't just my problem, weight gain has a huge stigma attached to it, especially in the fitness industry...and I get why. I really do - and if I'm honest, I can't even disagree with it a hundred percent.

I'm reminded of a conversation I had recently with my boss: I was attempting to express to him my frustrations with being and feeling judged at work, that my current appearance isn't ME and I don't know less or feel like I should be worth less because I've gained 60lbs. After all, I didn't suddenly decide one day that to hell with this eating properly and exercising shit, I was just going to sit around and eat pizza and donuts...I developed a tumour which caused a hormone imbalance. I never stopped valuing healthy living,  it just LOOKS like I did.  His response (and he was matter-of-fact but not unkind) was that like it or not, as trainers it is our job to be paragons of good health, to be the inspiration, to model the lifestyle that we're selling. People judge based on what they see, I can't expect them not to and I have no real right to get angry about it.

So there's that. Here's what it really boils down to, though, and this is the conclusion that I've reached after stewing for days about how to deal, debating whether or not to even stay in this field, and wondering how to move forward in a body that doesn't seem to want to. Ready?

"After stewing in his emotions, emo veg comes to the 

conclusion that the root of the world's problems

 is that people don't seem to carrot all."

I could drive myself crazy trying to own everyone else's shit, trying to change the world and alter how people think and interact and function from day to day....or not. Instead I could just accept that all this body image stuff is my challenge to face, and just keep on putting one foot in front of the other. Either way, it's my choice, and I'm choosing not to make myself crazy. My efforts are better spent elsewhere - like on learning to feel like myself again!

So, dear world, think what you want. I don't have to know or care because the only opinions and prejudices I have to own are mine. It is not up to me to please you. I'm not sure where that leaves us but I think our relationship can grow from here now that we've re-balanced the power.

Growing Invisible

"Wow. WOW. Okay, you can step down from there."

Obediently, I stepped off the scale and sat down in the endocrinologist's office. The nurse had asked me to face away from the display on the scale so I had no idea what the damage was. Actually, that's a lie. I had some idea.

"Are you aware that over the last year your weight has increased more than twenty percent? TWENTY PERCENT!!"

Yes, I said, I am aware. That's a big part of why I'm here.

"OK. Well. As long as you're aware."

***

Dear everybody, I haven't written in a while...I've been in a not so good place.

See, I thought that getting fat was not going to change who I was. I thought that it wouldn't - couldn't - change how people who knew me saw me. I thought that having a solid professional track record would outweigh (pun intended) my appearance. How wrong I was about everything.

Apparently, if you're a trainer it doesn't matter what you know, who you are, or what your history is. If you get fat, you turn into a joke. Nobody cares why. It doesn't matter, because in the fitness industry it's all about looking good. If you don't look the part then you're a fraud.

But I knew all that. It's not a subtle point that's been driven home again and again, but something happened today that went a little deeper than usual. Gather 'round everyone, I have a story for you.

So three weeks ago, I turned to a well-known trainer's online coaching program. I'll tell you more about that in another post, but this program is a pretty extreme regimen - not at all what I usually preach to my clients, but you have to understand that I needed desperately to feel like myself again.
I was heavier than I'd been in years, I was fighting with awful side effects from the new drug the endocrinologist had put me on, my career was in free fall, and my confidence was at rock bottom.

But this morning, after three grueling weeks on my new program with a hard-ass coach in my corner, I was down eleven pounds and starting to feel better. I decided that it was time to make an appearance where I used to work...so I wandered into the old stomping ground and bought a membership - I wanted somewhere else to train besides my current studio and it was close by. Plus I thought it would be fun to see some familiar faces and catch up. Seemed to make perfect sense.

Now, in my current state, eleven pounds down is nice and all, but it's a drop in the barrel. I know there's a long way to go. But I'm still me, even if I look like I climbed into a sumo suit and can't find my way out. Or so I thought.

Because you know what happened in the gym this morning? Nothing. People I knew and would have stopped to talk to looked at me and quickly looked away. People I was happy to see and shared food and gossip with at social gatherings only a few months ago avoided eye contact so conspicuously it bordered on ridiculous. In the hour and a half that I spent there I didn't talk to a soul.

I didn't know how to feel. Invisible. Hurt. Angry. Seriously, people? Is it so awful to be seen talking to a chunky person? Or is it that the first thing that comes out of your mouths when you see each other is "oh my gawd you look so lean and gorgeous!" (or something to that effect) and you can't say that to me? Is it so hard to make conversation about something meaningful instead of an exchange of superficial banalities? Or are you just so horrified that you don't know what to say?

I debated what to do. Go hide in the shower and cry? No. Cut my workout short and go home in shame? Fuck that. I mean, don't get me wrong - the options that included cutting and running were attractive, but I didn't want to be that girl. I finished my workout. Then I went and cried in my car.

So dudes, here's the thing: I don't want to be a trainer anymore. I don't want to be part of this youth-and-beauty-worshipping poisonous bullshit factory that masquerades as an industry that's supposed to help people. I became a trainer because I thought I could help change that, but then I gained 60lbs and turned invisible.

Anyway. For the moment I don't know what else I would do. I love my job. It makes me so mad that I can't make a living doing what I'm good at because of how I look, that I'm sure I could shoot fire out of my eyeballs if I really tried hard. So for now the plan is this: I'm committed to my coach for three more months. If I can't find some mojo again in that time, I'm out. If I do, then freakin' look out, fitness industry, because I'm coming for you.

Sudoku, Perfection, and Quitting my job

When I got up this morning, I did the usual stuff: went straight to the coffee maker, poured myself a cup, and sat down to see what was new in the world. What was new in MY world, I noticed in about five seconds, was that our internet was down. So today, instead of being passively entertained by news and clickbait, I did some sudoku's.

I know, I know - just about lost you there, didn't I? I could FEEL all of your eyes turning into little crosses as you died of boredom or clicked back to Facebook...but I promise that there's a point to this story. Bear with me, okay?

Now normally a sudoku puzzle takes me about ten minutes, and mistakes are unacceptable in my book - soon as I make a mistake on one, it's pooched so I ditch it and I start a new one. Today I thought I'd do something different and play for speed without worrying about a few mistakes. My app considers it a win if there are three mistakes or less anyway. And I learned something that hit me like a ton of bricks - something I'm sure I knew at some point but forgot. Are you ready?

It's okay to make mistakes. In fact, you learn and accomplish way more by making a mistake and fixing it than you do by tiptoeing around, making sure that zero mistakes happen. You know what else? WORSE MISTAKES HAPPEN when you get stuck in the trying-to-be-perfect rut.

Story time: I quit my job on Monday.

Lately I've been feeling pretty down about the fitness industry, fuelled partly by my frustration at still being overweight (STILL) and my perceived loss of credibility because of it, and partly because there really are an awful lot of people who judge based on appearances. A  disproportionate number of them seem to be drawn to careers in this field...and where once upon a time I would have said that that's why this industry needs me (and others like me), now I was really beginning to wonder what I was doing here. If I was making a mockery of the career I've put my heart and soul into for almost ten years. If I was really just...well...ridiculous.

So with these thoughts gnawing away at the inside of my head, I've been going to work and going to school, trying to keep my head down, study hard, maintain a perfect GPA, be a good and a perfect employee...and I fucked up. I made a bad mistake with a new client, and when she called the gym to complain and I heard about it later, that was the last straw. I decided to hell with this career and this industry, that I was never going to have any credibility, and I'd never succeed in sorting my own health out as long as I kept feeling bad about it. I wrote my resignation letter, hit 'send', and took a deep breath. Done.

See, I forgot: I'm not perfect. I can't be. I don't have to be. And in trying to maintain that veneer of perfection, I nearly drove myself bonkers and made the worst mistake ever. I mean, quit my job? The one that I enjoy and look forward to going to? Ditch my career that I've worked hard to establish? That would have been stupid. But if I hadn't made that mistake I would still be in that nasty rut where nothing short of perfect was acceptable. Instead, I'm tapping away at my keyboard, slightly tipsy from drinking wine with dinner, and feeling like a TOTAL ASS. But that's okay. Feeling like an ass is better than feeling angry at myself for not being a superhero.

So what happened? Well, I have a pretty cool boss who wasn't prepared to accept my resignation without a good explanation...and when, choking back tears, I explained how disappointed in myself I've been for not being amazing, for a second he looked like he was going to laugh at me. "I think you're being a little hard on yourself," he said. We talked it over and he convinced me not to jump ship...I don't think I really wanted to anyway; who would I be if I wasn't a trainer?

So it worked out okay. I feel stupid for letting my emotions get the better of me...but given how much I was holding in, it was bound to all come busting out at some point. I was pushing too hard, stressing too much, and not forgiving myself for being worn out. Time to cut myself some slack maybe, and have some fun. If anyone needs me I'll be in the squat rack!

Group Hug!

Whoohoo, we made it - happy 2015!

Now that I'm done examining and reflecting and bitching about 2014, we can talk about what's going to be AWESOME this year.

I'm pretty excited. You know why? Because there's something really important that I kind of forgot last year as I was clawing my way along, and it bobbed to the surface when I stopped to think about the possibilities of a fresh start...and that really important idea is this:

LOVE is the catalyst for positive change.

What I mean by that is, of course, that steps in the right direction don't come from anger, fear, or aggression - the dark side are they!

Ha ha - sorry, I couldn't resist. But to change your life in a really positive way requires love. Want a healthy, fit body? Start loving it. Honour it for what it does for you and appreciate how it looks NOW. Want great relationships? Show the people closest to you how much they mean and get the cycle going. Want more career satisfaction? Get really fired up and excited about what you do, or if you can't, maybe think of doing something different...because otherwise, life can become a drag. But if you really love what you do and feel a sense of purpose...you know what I'm getting at.

So with that idea in mind, and armed with my non-resolutions (no feeling ashamed of myself and owning my behaviour and emotions), I hereby pledge that 2015 is going to be great. Maybe the best year yet. Are y'all with me?

To hell with the status quo and let's do what makes us happy. (You know, within reason - not endorsing anything crazy here.) For example, most of you know that my primary fitness goal is fat loss. I've felt super frustrated with my physicality for the last, oh, two and a half years, and I've been furiously training and obsessing over eating plans and beating myself up over the extra weight I carry around. I'm done with that.

Instead, I've switched over to a workout program that I genuinely enjoy: training for FREAKISH STRENGTH!  And I'm not stressing over my extra weight anymore, because that wasn't fun - all the negative self-talk, the wondering what people must think of that fat trainer, convincing myself that I have nothing to offer anyone because I don't look they way I should...instead, I am working on appreciating the body I have. Considering how mean I've been to it, it treats me pretty well. And really, it's high time I started returning the favor.

Of course, it's not an easy switch to make - changing a habitual line of thinking is like changing the course of a river after it's worn a deep valley in the ground...it's going to take a while to build a dam and force the water to go where you want it to go. Some little rivulets of nastiness are going to escape from time to time and go down the old path. It's inevitable - and it's okay. It's almost good because it's a reminder of how much the old thoughts hurt.

Hurt. Doesn't it seem sort of ridiculous that hurtful patterns can so easily turn into the default setting? Here's the thing though: changing that reflex to shudder inwardly when you pass a mirror actually feels good. I mean, it's kind of funny to force a good thought in front of a mirror because it feels so weird...but it's a good weird. Silly, even. But some silliness is a welcome change from the constant stream of not-good-enough-ness.

So gang, let's make a deal. In 2015, be happy. Do what gives you a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Honour yourself (even if it's a stretch) and the people closest to you. Pick up heavy stuff for fun. And stoke that big-ass love fire so that good things happen!