This post was featured in The Globe and Mail - March 27, 2019 - https://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/first-person/article-guilt-negativity-fear-this-is-the-weight-i-need-to-lose/

It’s the new year and a great time to attempt a change. Me, I’m going to lose 5 lbs, or a half stone for the Bridget Jones fans.  It will not be from having a dry January, trodding on a treadmill or tossing sweets in the trash. No such nonsense for me. I will do it through sheer mental power and good decision making.  Piece of cake. Mmmmm, cake. While it’s not much, it is guaranteed to go a long way in improving my life and overall well being. The problem is, when I go over this process of shedding pounds in my head, I seem to gain the weight back, in one form or another, as quickly as I lose it.  When I take something away from myself, I immediately crave a replacement behavior, which adds up in a blink. My mind, that has been on vacation for two weeks and in various states of consciousness - rest, intoxication, lazy morning fog, post nature-walk alert or numbed from sensory overload - has had a lot of time to think about this change I want to make.  Losing five pounds and gaining it right back is not what I had hoped for but I have accepted that that is likely what is going to happen - and has already begun happening. And I kind of like it. I’m finding it’s the quality of the weight that matters, not the quantity.

The first to go... a pudgy, ugly pound of negativity that rests inside my head, pushing my frown lines deeper into the folds of my face.  Believe it or not, this will be the easiest for me to lose. I have been working on controlling my sad and negative thoughts for a while now and my mental prowess is improving by the day.  I am practicing changing my thoughts the way a child changes hats in a dress-up corner. Wearing nit-picky, negative thoughts is as uncomfortable as wearing a wool hat on a hot day and why would anyone do that?  When pessimistic musings and complaining build up and begin to feel heavy on my noggin, like a gasoline soaked cowboy hat threatening to ignite and burn me up, I just change hats: I visualize myself reaching into a toy bin and pulling out a new thought; a pretty fedora or soft beret, thoughts of swimming in the summer or eating a good bowl of pasta.  Appreciating what I have, my position in life, and the world around me is up to me and not in anyone else’s control. Only I can change my hat - there is no spiritual stylist on my heels keeping me cheerful and hip. Gratitude is always within reach. As I search this year for greater inspiration I remind myself that my best ideas come from being engaged and alert, not from commiserating and indulging in gloomy self-talk.  No one talks to me as much as I talk to myself and I need to direct that voice. I feel the weight coming off already as I sit here and pump myself up.

Without these negative thoughts feeding off each other in my psyche, I am left hungry.  I can’t sit around all day with an empty head, not like I used to anyway, so I endeavor to feed it something else; something light and delicious, something positive.  A serving of positivity I am told is somehow less dense, leaving more room to let in light and air. It’s the best way to get a twinkle in your eye I hear.

“...happiness is determined more by one’s state of mind than by external events.” - Dalai Lama XIV, The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living

Next, I plan to rid myself of road rage. There’s a solid pound of that in me for sure. Not only is it extra weight I don’t need, but it’s hot and slippery too, like a boiled egg, peeled and fresh from the pot.  I’d like to lose it all but I am prepared to accept occasional moments of defeat. I am far less in control of this poundage than any other. The problem being, I live in a wind tunnel of speed - speed that feeds on speed and leaves me blinking and huffing inside a funnel of smoking energy. When something gets in the path of my churning funnel, I RAGE.  Sometimes it’s very unladylike. Case in point, I had just come from a 90 min massage and was pulling into a busy parking lot en route to a health food store when a man in a pick-up truck stopped in front of me. After he had stopped, and cars started piling up behind me, he put his signal on indicating he meant to back into the parking spot that I was now blocking. I had to wait for oncoming traffic to clear before I could drive around the truck to get out of his way.  

The calm I felt after my massage allowed me to float out of my body and leave only a rage-filled robot behind the wheel.  As I floated, I watched myself lean over, make eye contact with the truck driver and overly enunciate a carefully crafted comment as though I were a drowning magician in a tank mouthing the location of the keys that would unlock my handcuffs and allow me to escape. I wanted him to take in every syllable.   I parked quickly, bounded out of my car and headed straight for the guy, who smartly booked it into the restaurant he parked in front of. I waved away the steam coming from my ears and carried on into the health food store to buy my nighty-nite tea. Neither massage n’or the smell of eucalyptus prevented my outburst.  I need to lose this pound of road rage - and fast!

No - not fast!  No more speed. I will lose it by repeating these words; I am not in a hurry.  I am not in a hurry. I am not in a hurry.  Because really, I’m not.  These minutes I work so hard to recover each day are not really that important in the grand scheme of my mental health.  This year, I will drive safely, allowing ‘stupid’ to happen all around me, and I will let it go because ...I am not in a hurry.  My life is not that extraordinary that a couple of minutes here and there is worth getting in a fight over. While the temptation to fly off the handle will live on the end of my tongue like a diver waiting for a cue, I will push it back and remember, I am not in a hurry.

From that I hope to gain patience and even a bit of dignity.

And how about that guilt!  It’s gotta go. I definitely carry a brick-solid pound of that. I believe that in some circumstances guilt has a purpose.  When it drives my conscience to do better, it’s functional. When it presents as an internal dialogue that goes nowhere - it’s useless.  This year I would like to stop feeling guilty for not keeping a cleaner house, for spending time away from family to be with friends, for not baking everything from scratch, for not attending every party or event because I would rather be at home, for not being more involved in the kids schools, for watching trashy TV when I should be reading or, baking something from scratch.  I will no longer feel guilt for putting my pajamas on early on a Sunday, like mid-afternoon early, or for not going to the gym and eating chips instead of tangerines. I will no longer feel guilt for taking the time I need to pursue my own interests and hobbies, like this. Why I think so many people need me and that I must present as a perfect mother with a rock solid fitness routine is beyond me and surely a sign of a huge ego.  My image and performance is not top of anyone else’s mind but my own. I surrender my ego and release myself from this guilt. Excuse me while I go put my slippers on.

From this I hope to gain freedom.  Freedom to be myself. Freedom, I expect, will feel weightless but ever-present.  I imagine the guilt dropping like a gold brick out of my pocket and silken wings simultaneously landing on my back, lifting me slightly off the ground as my arms open up to welcome change. It’s all very sci-fi and I can’t wait to get started on losing the guilt.  I’m working on it.

This one is embarrassing.  I am having a foolish love affair and it needs to stop.  I carry around this secret love like a shoplifter with a purse full of goods; clutching it, concealing it, but discreetly proud of it.  I need to dump out the contents and throw away the bag. I am hopelessly in love with being an underdog and have had this love for a long time. It is the most comfortable and lovable position to hold in life and it is getting me nowhere.  I am not a best selling author and my new film is not about to be released. I am new, I am trying, I am non-threatening, and at times, this makes me likable. I no longer want to be adorable and non-threatening. So what if I am new at this?  If I allow myself a shred of confidence and throw my hat in the ring more often, will I really lose my character and likability? Should I care right now? Everyone loves an underdog and perhaps this year I concern myself a little less with being loved.  I will stop ‘playing’ at writing. I will learn to be proud, not boastful, just proud, and I will save the ‘aw-shucks’ for the kids. I will not undersell myself anymore. I’m happy to lose that purse but I can’t lie, this confidence feels a little uncomfortable in its place.  I figure it’s like a new pair of jeans though; it will relax and feel like a second skin sooner or later and before long, people will be checking out my ass as I walk away. I can get used to that.

The last pound to shed is fear.  Fear has held me back: fear of failure, fear of embarrassment, fear of rejection, fear of loss, fear of regret.  That’s a lot of fear. I am not addicted to change or self-help so I will commit to only chip away at this weight slowly but I will do it effectively.  This is not a whim. If I can lose any one of these fears, even a fraction, I stand to gain experience. I want to live a life full of experiences and so far I have but, there is much more out there for me and I don’t want fear to get in my way.  Fear of failure has prevented me from being a writer. Fear of embarrassment has prevented me from acting, singing or giving an opinion. Fear of rejection has stopped me from aiming higher in all aspects of my life. Fear of loss has left me distant and awkward at times.  Fear of regret has lead me into situations that made me uncomfortable and created in me a misconception that impulsivity is cool when really, it’s just impulsive.

“We are defined by what we choose to reject.  And if we reject nothing we essentially have no identity at all”  - Mark Manson, The Subtle Art Of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living A Good Life

None of these pursuits is noble or stands to serve others but I truly believe the closer I get to a more centred and authentic version of myself, the better and more effective I will be in my relationships and my connection to community and others.  So, if I can shed some negativity, lose the rage, the guilt, the unhealthy attachment to underdog status and take a chunk of fear off my plate, I stand to gain positivity, patience, freedom, confidence and experience. Pound for pound I have not lost a thing but I will be much lighter and better equipped to soar through 2019.  Consider me on a diet but, don’t be surprised if you still see me eating poutine and drinking red bull. I’m going to need all the calories I can get to make these changes.

Happy New Year and all the best to you and yours.

By Carol Sloan

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