Dissatisfied

Last night, I sprawled on my bed with a bright blue pen, a blank sheet of paper and a hardback fantasy novel (my new desk). I was at it again, trying to climb out of the muck with word-vomit therapy. I read a post the other day that was very timely. She talked about having a touchstone thought pattern, an edge of the swimming pool to grab on to. Her phrase was I hate my body. That was the rut her mind had created by going over it and over it and over it again, to the point that now it goes back to that place even though it isn't true anymore.

If there's one thing I know it's that a thought process is one of the hardest things to rewire. So that's what I was doing. Again.

The last couple of weeks there's been this lurking dissatisfaction with my body. It's been one of those hard-to-describe feelings. Not overpowering in the least, but persistent. Hiding in the corners, there when I walk into my house after work and walk past the mirror to take a shower. Not enough...not there yet the voice seems to whisper.

It helps to yell at the voice. Loudly. Literally. And sometimes I do. I've been countering with backhands like, Trying to lose weight never got you anywhere but miserable, and My body isn't on the table for that kind of discussion. And still it lurks.

Dissatisfied. Not good enough. Wouldn't the challenge be fun? Why don't you weigh yourself, see if you could lose 5 more lbs than where you're at now? Dissatisfied. Dissatisfied. Dissatisfied. You could be just a little bit better...

I've been working on that little piece of paper for almost a week now, challenging each lie that comes up, calling it out for the falsehood it is. It's a grip on reality. And last night while I was writing, it hit me. This is my touchstone. That body bashing, the not-good-enough's, those are the things I still grab when I don't really know what I'm feeling except for...not good.

And then it all made sense. I'm not dissatisfied with my body. Really, there are lots of things I like about my body. I'm very satisfied with my weight and shape and when my thoughts are rational, nothing at all needs to change. Where I'm at is wonderful. I'm not dissatisfied with my body, I'm dissatisfied with my life. Bored to death and in need of a challenge. Sick of sitting at work and staring at a computer screen, sick of living on the same street, in the same apartment where the furniture has been in the same place for a year. I've just been blaming that on my body, taking out that boredom at one of the only avenues it's ever been directed in my life.

Losing weight was always a challenge, something to throw myself at and get really intense about. Health and food and weight and all that - it was interesting. It was an obstacle to overcome, something to seriously channel my energy through. And it was one of the most destructive outlets I could have chosen (or that was handed to me - thanks, Society).

Now though, I see the connection. Bored with life? Lose weight, the challenge will be fun! Dissatisfied with your job? You can't change that so why not be dissatisfied with your body instead? THAT we can change. Finding what I really felt disarmed those thoughts completely. I am completely satisfied with my body and it is fine exactly where it is. There is no need to change it, whatsoever (no matter what my weight or size).

And now that I know what the problem really is, I can address it. I'm going to learn how to play tennis I think. And maybe train for another 10k or something of the sort. I've seriously been considering shaving the side of my head and I'm pretty sure that green nail polish is in order. I'm going to go on a decluttering, cleaning rampage this weekend and then maybe buy some fresh flowers to put on the kitchen table. I know there are only three months left, but really...I think it's time to rearrange the whole house. I think I want to learn to make baklava. Or maybe just a really killer carrot cake. And pretty soon, my soul will need a campfire and s'mores.  Some new makeup will probably help, and possibly a pair of shoes. And paper chains. Paper count-down chains are totally in order. I think I might make four.

Little things have the power to help one feel beautiful again once the knowledge I always was is claimed (...again).

So, guess what? There's nothing wrong with my body. I'm just bored to death and in need of some (not-so-small) adventuring. And seriously, figuring that out felt like one of the biggest successes I've had in a month. I'm pretty sure I'm going to add and what are you REALLY dissatisfied with? on the sticky note on my wall that already says Fat is NOT a feeling.

Also, do you know how hard it is to write the word dissatisfied twenty times in one post? I'm pretty sure I only spelled it right on the first try once.