Stronger
I've been singing these lyrics to myself, as I ride...
"You think you got the best of me? Think you've had the last laugh? Bet you think that everything good is gone? Think you left me broken down? ... You don't know me, cause you're dead wrong. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Stand a little taller... What doesn't kill you makes a fighter. Footsteps even lighter. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger. Just me, myself and I. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Stand a little taller. You didn't think that I'd come back. I'd come back swinging. You try to break me, but you see... What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." - "Stronger", Kelly Clarkson
Do you ever look at a picture of yourself and tear yourself apart? Thinking you look fat, or comment or think how awful you look? Then, you look back later at the same pictures, and think how thin you were, and wish you were still that thin, fit and better looking than you are now? It’s all about perspective. And, only goes to show how hard we are on ourselves, and how warped our sense of beauty is. Demonstrates that we are never satisfied with ourselves, or our appearance, no matter how thin or fit we are, at the time. There is always something to pick apart, or beat ourselves up about. It goes to show that, what we look like matters much less than how we feel about how we look. How we feel about who we are. And, how we feel, in general.
I’ve done this my whole life; all shapes and sizes (and haircuts and colours). In fact, I’ve been sitting here looking at pictures of myself, for the purpose of writing this post, and am seeing just how ridiculously hard I’ve been on myself throughout the years. How, I’ve done the same thing, regardless of what shape I was in. Times when I was super fit, thin and strong, I would look at myself and find faults. Then, when I was no longer in the same shape, and was bigger, weaker and worse for wear, physically, I would look back at those pictures and wish I was in that shape, at that moment. And, I would see pictures of myself in the state I was in, in that moment, and pick those pictures apart, as well. Only to later, wish I was at least that thin or strong, later. Not realizing that none of it mattered; not one single bit, to whether or not I was healthy and strong. That, being healthy and strong was the ONLY thing that mattered.
That, being stronger than yesterday should only ever be my sole goal. Not what I looked like, or what size I was; but how I felt about myself and how I felt, in general.
Going through my clothes to downsize, I found a broad range of sized clothing; everything from a size 3, to a size 16; XS, to XL pants, dresses, shirts, etc. This broad range, because as I said in an earlier blog post, I’ve gone from fighting fit, to forfeiting fat. I’ve been like this my entire adult life; losing and gaining, fit and fat, and back and forth. But the worst and most impactful; the broadest range in fit and fat, has been since I joined the military.
I was telling someone the other day, that I was pretty fit when I joined; or at least I thought I was fit, until I got ‘fighting fit’, as they call it. And, when I was that fit, I was also the thinnest and fittest I’ve been since I was a teenage gymnast. In fact, I might have been even fitter after all of my military training. However, with that, after all of my injuries and illness, I’ve also been the fattest and least fit than I’ve ever been in my life, as well. Broken back, torn up hip and knee and brain fog has followed me and hindered my fitness and increased my size for four years now. And, it has been a vicious cycle of self-loathing and self-deprecation that led to pushing me further and further away from that level of fitness I once had.
A dark cycle of self-abuse and self-deprecation, that sent me further and further down the rabbit hole. All because of what I looked like. The more hate I put myself through, the more I ate. The more I ate, the fatter I got. The fatter I got, the worse my pain from all of my injuries. The worse the pain, the less activity I could do. The less activity I was doing, the fatter I got. And I got further and further away from the health and wellness I once enjoyed. I became forfeiting fat, because I gave up on trying to ‘feel’ well because I didn’t like how I looked. I fed that dis-ease with more fat-inducing garbage and self-loathing. Instead of feeding myself with healthy things; food, feelings, thoughts and self-talk. I spiraled.
Once I got moving, I stopped caring what I looked like. I’d been in isolation so long; in part because of my self-imposed darkness and then because of COVID, it no longer mattered to me. I let my grey roots grow out, stopped getting my nails done and rarely put on make-up. At first, I wouldn’t even look in the mirror. I hated myself too much to dare. Then, after a while; after I started ‘feeling’ better, I would look in the mirror and see changes but didn’t pay much attention to them; which is when I first realized that I was finally starting to feel well. That, I had finally come to the point where my appearance was not my first priority; or even a priority at all, really.
Then, I started to notice clothing fitting differently. And, realizing that some of my ‘skinny clothes’, were starting to fit. And, that my old ‘fat clothes’ were too big. Thought it might be time to pull the skinny clothes out of storage and pack up the ‘fat clothes’ for winter; in case I gained back some of the weight. But as I went through them, I realized just how fat I had actually been. How unfit I had been; body, mind and soul. And, how I never wanted to go back there again. And, realizing that, I realized that meant, not focusing on what I looked like anymore. Not allowing myself to fall into that ‘beauty trap’ ever again. Finally, embracing my grey hairs, and my cellulite, and scars. Taking myself exactly as I was, and not allowing myself to get caught up in what I looked like anymore. As long as I felt well. As long as, each day, I was stronger than yesterday. As long as I could now, look back at photos of myself taken from today forward, with a sense of accomplishment, instead of looking back with self-pity and a sense of envy for the person I once was.
We’re supposed to get better with age; wiser, and more aware. Why can’t we do the same, holistically? Why can’t we work to better ourselves every day; body, mind and soul, for the duration of our lives? I told an acquaintance of mine the other day, that I joined the military at 41 so, it’s not completely out of character or out of the question for me to take up cycling and get fighting fit again, with accommodations, despite all of my injuries and aging, at 50. And, I believe that now, with every part of my being. It’s not out of the question. It’s actually an activity that I can do without as much strain on my back, knees and hip. And, it’s one that gives me the freedom, peace and movement that I need to feel and be holistically well. And, I am committing to it, because of how it makes me feel.
I’m also committing to not focusing on what I look like; other than to share a few of these pictures with you here, but what I feel like. Committing to always being stronger than I was the day before. Focusing on being stronger than yesterday; body, mind and soul. Every day for the rest of my life. No more warped sense of self. No more broken idea of beauty. No more body dysmorphia. No more beating myself up over a fat roll, when I feel otherwise, strong and well.
No more warped mirrors.
I’m taking back my beauty.
I’m taking back my life.
And, I’m throwing away my ‘fat clothes’.
