One day,
I woke up and realised that no one was coming to save me. [The rest of the post is not as cheesy and maybe makes you want to puke a little as this line.] No man in a fine af black, matt old af Mustang (with a bio or hydro engine of course, which is still able to produce that beautiful sound you can hear from miles away). No tree that I could plant that would give me all the dollar bills, or faucet that drips little, tiny pieces of gold, that I needed to buy my own apartment. No remote control I could use to change the colour of my eyes and make me see better again, wipe away my cellulite, fix those baby curls I have, upgrade my self esteem etc.
I would have to do it myself.
(Source)
After watching all those romantic movies in my childhood, it's not that difficult to believe that I was waiting for a Prince Charming. The movies do exactly that - they brainwash girls into thinking that they're weak and need a man to come save them. (Not all movies, mind you, but many of them.) Remember Cinderella? She endured the hardship that her stepmother and stepsisters put her through. For years and years and years. Hardship that wasn't due to them being poor - but hardship for the sake of hardship. I mean, she had to sort the peas. Come on. Until one day - she was like hell no and bailed and met her future husband. But why did it take her so long to make a change? And why was her choice so brutal? Why didn't she go see a psychologist? Why didn't the child services come to them and try to fix the relationship between Cinderella and her stepsisters? WHERE WAS DR. PHIL?!
The movies I watched growing up, along with other things, made me believe that I was as pathetic and weak as Cinderella. They made me believe that instead of working on becoming an independent, strong, confident woman, I'd work my way into a door mat waiting for someone to save me.
Save me? Save me from what exactly? My dark thoughts? My laziness which is the reason behind me not working out as often as I should, not eating as healthy as I should (even though my diet has improved tremendously over the last decade), not being as shy as I am?
If you don't love yourself, no one will love you, or something like that. Deep. Really. And it's true.
Oh darkness, why so serious
No one could, or can, save me from my dark thoughts - except myself. Someone could maybe distract me from them, or maybe x^2 my dark thoughts, but never erase them. The work would have to be done by me. Why do I have these thoughts? What and where is the root? Aha, because of this or that. Can I do anything about it? If yes, great, do it. If no, maybe some other day. Could talking about them to a neutral person help? If yes, go to a psychologist. If no, definitely go to a psychologist. I read somewhere that 'you should meditate for 10 minutes daily. if you can't find 10 minutes to spare, then you should meditate for 20'. Something like that. Meditation is so many things for so many people. For me, it has helped me feel all those repressed feelings I've kept locked up somewhere for different reasons. It's helped me connect with my feelings. Cliché? Yes. But also true.
One more thing about psychologists - a good one gives you the right tools for helping yourself. Then, the rest of the work is up to you.
Lazy - lazier - for shame
No one could, or can, save me from my laziness - except myself. Although the reasons for me not doing things that are good for me, are several, laziness is one of them. I even have a dumbbell spinlock set in my room, not 2 metres from my bed. When was the last time I used them? I remember it was cold. I think. But to be fair, most of the days here in Norway are cold, in my opinion. But that wasn't the point. I was on a really good roll, healthwise, for a few weeks, where I would work out at home and go jogging at a nearby football field. Getting out there was difficult. But also no. Because I knew that this would be good for me - for my heart, body and soul. I have the lung capacity of someone who's been hitting the tobacco for as long as I've been alive due to the amounts I used to smoke. My joints crack every time I stand up or bend over.
So back to motivation. How do you find motivation? You don't. You get up, go out and do it. No questions asked. And even though my face looked like the opposite of Rudolph's face (red everywhere except for the nose, around the eyes and mouth) the first few times, my blood circulatory system improved. Did my Prince Charming drive up in his (my) Mustang, rolled down the windows and yell 'RUN, you fool'? No. I made that decision.
I'd also like to add, on a proud note, that jogging isn't something I did voluntarily - but I got up and did it. For the past decade, I've jogged maybe 10 times, of which 4 were on a treadmill straight after New Year's this year and the other times where when I almost missed my bus or train.
Oh shy, you shy (-ine)
No one could, or can, make my shyness disappear. Those of you who read my introduction post (@softcaramel/this-is-me-at-least-some-of-it), already know that I spent about a decade getting lost in drugs, forgetting, repressing what I could. I ended up in Amsterdam for a few months, of which I was homeless for a week. What I didn't mention, is that I was awake for most of that week - except for one night, when a kind restaurant owner and his wife let me sleep inside. The bench was made of wood, it was cold, and I barely slept a few hours, but it helped. The other days of that week I spent hallucinating and looking over my shoulder so much that it's weird that I didn't get a neck problem. And one night I fell asleep in a park. I didn't have my cellphone then, so I don't know how long I kept my eyes shut, but it was dark when I layed down on the bench and still dark when I got up.
Ever since that week, I've kept to myself. Mostly. Or in smaller crowds. It took me months to make it to Oslo and back without any panic attacks, sweating palms and a heart beat as fast you could make the mistake of thinking it belonged to a hummingbird. Did Prince Charming tell me to do that? To face my own fears? To go head on with exposure therapy? No. It was I. (Hahah, the picture of Kuzco from The Emperor's New Groove just popped up in my head.)
Anyway. Even though I didn't know at the time what the reasons were for my panic attacks, I came to the conclusion that I would no longer be a prisoner of this fear. I mean, I would be sitting on a bus with a bunch of kids and old people, and all of a sudden I would be overwhelmed with this fear and the only thing I wanted to do was to get off the bus as soon as I could. I was afraid of sitting on the bus. THE BUS. It's even environmentally friendly, but no.
As mentoned above, it took me months. And this time, there was one question that I asked myself, namely 'was I going to let this win over me?' No. I read about exposure therapy, I tested it out on this and that, and it worked. Face your fear(s). Or else it's going to eat up. Bit by bit. Until all of you is gone.
Also, once on a podcast I listened to, a neurobiologist said that 'when in an anxious situation, sit in it. Don't leave. That way, you force your body to learn other coping mechanisms'. Healthy coping mechanisms. You force your body to deal with the unpleasant feelings, instead of running away and thus repressing the feelings that emerge. The beginning is the worst. But then it gets easier. My shyness is still there, and I'm even more socially awkward than I was before Amsterdam, but it's progressing.
(Source)
So, to conclude -
you should be your own hero, your own best friend, as the mind has these sneaky ways of making you your own worst enemy. And who wants that? Get up, stand up - and run fast af out of your comfort zone. Face your fears. Feel all your emotions. Nurish your heart, body and soul. Be your own best friend.
I believe in you. But more importantly - you should believe in yourself. And as far as cheesy comments go, this one is the last for today.