The Stories We Tell Ourselves

The most dangerous and powerful stories are the ones that we tell ourselves about ourselves.  Our self-talk can lift us up or take us down.  We sometimes tell ourselves stories about how others perceive us.  We tell ourselves that we know what they are saying about us. And for the most part we are wrong.

Sometime back, I took a series of classes on meditation and mindfulness.  This was my first steps into looking at the stories I was telling myself.  Shockingly, they weren’t all good. Some gave me false pride, others put me down.  After every heartbreak, I would swear that I would never love again or that if I just reached out and talked to them I could coax them back into my life.  This for the record, only worked twice and in both cases it wasn’t good for anyone involved.

By far the most dangerous ones, I’ve told myself are the stories about how much work something is going to be or not be.  In the latter case, I assume something is easy and then I am mired in self-doubt when I get stuck or it turns out to be the latter.

As you know from my previous posts, I am list kind of person. I write lists to keep myself motivated and on track.  Somethings are harder than other.  Those items are the ones that are necessary but rile my anxiety.  Anything that involves making a phone calling or asking someone for something/help will generate a story that only feeds my anxiety.

It is those stories that we tell ourselves about how much work or how awkward something is going to be that are dangerous.  We delay and don’t get what we need to get done which sends us into a negative spiral.

A lot of us complain about adulting. It is a word that some people snicker , others chastise people for using it and some embrace. One of the reasons, why so many of us complain about it that we weren’t prepared for adulthood.  We weren’t prepared to deal with the thousand things that happen in a day at work then to come home to more work.  We didn’t really pay attention to all the things our folks did to make our world work, if we had responsible folks which some of us didn’t have.

We didn’t realize that our folks were just as lost as we are at times.  They just didn’t tell us.

There were twenty-six items on my to-do list this morning.  Six of those things were stress inducing.  I’m now down to to only three items. One of which is a shower that I will get after walking the dogs this evening.

Those six anxiety/stress inducing things involved telling a friend I couldn’t do something, chores I had been avoiding and asking for something.  Everyone of them is done.  How?

Well, first, today was a good day. I slept over eight hours last night, didn’t have to leave the house and I’ve been in comfy clothes all day.  The last several days have been good as well.  I’ve talked a lot to my sweetheart about his anxiety lately and it has helped me to look at mine.  So, I put them on the list, starred them and then looked at them.  The chores needed doing so I spaced them out. The asking and telling, I asked myself what as the worse that could happen.  And then did it.

I’m a storyteller.  We are all storytellers.  It is time that we took control of the superpower that we all have and used it for good.




My Zombie Hunting Addiction…

This blog helps keep my focus on my writing goals. Zombie hunting keeps me from loosing my mind amid life’s conflicting duties.

I hunt daily. Everyday, I kill zombies. My preferred method of dispatching them is with a katina, but a shovel or shotgun will do in a pinch.

Sometimes, well, most days, I sneak off whenever I can to feed my obsession with killing the icky undead.  Thankfully, modern technology has seen its way into creating applications for cellphones and other electronic devices into order to feed nearly every unholy addiction known to man. The few addictions that remain undiscovered will soon be reveled  by computer programmers working through the night on Red Bull and Mountain Dew binges.

My zombie culling cravings are satisfied though playing Zombie Lane on Facebook. Silly.. absolutely, but it is a distraction that is free and doesn’t requiring me having to wash zombie remains out of my hair.

There are friends of mine who have stopped playing Facebook games all together stating that they are wasting too much time on them or are simply can’t keep up with all the requests.  The number of requests for items or to join this or that game can be quite annoying, so this is more than reasonable. Still, I delight in doing something which is mindless. Something that only requires my attention in a limited capacity.

We all need distraction. For some of us that distraction comes in the form of mindless games, others similarly mindless television programing. In the great depression, movies filled the role of the great distract-er .

In my chosen mindless distraction, there are tasks to be accomplished which when completed sometime fill me with a false sense of accomplishment; given that most of the jobs I have chosen in my life to undertake are never ending, it is nice to be able to finish some thing every once in a while.

Plus, if anyone asks what I am doing I can always tell them that I am preparing for the upcoming zombie apocalypse.

10,000 Steps a Day…

It’s nearly noon and looking at my pedometer, I am more than 8,000 steps away from that goal. The first day with it, I didn’t do very well; only 1,700 steps recorded. Of course, I left the darn thing at home while I ran errands. Today, I put it on right after my second cup of tea.

According to the formula on the website, I need to walk 14,000 steps a day to lose weight.  It makes me wonder how many steps to happiness or a good hair day.  It makes everything seem so simple, my internal cynic can’t help herself, she knows it won’t be easy. The site means to be helpful with graphs and the like.  So far my chart is flat lining which is a little depressing.  Maybe after a week of recording my steps, it will start to pick up.

In the last couple of weeks, I have lost three pounds and a couple of inches.  Some things are fitting better, but weight loss isn’t my main goal. I want to be healthier, a little freer from pain. My knees ache from an accident I had as a child.  My neck and shoulders from an auto accident.  Oh and then there is the old ticker, it likes to skip a beat now and again.

Before you go feeling all sorry for me, please know that I don’t feel sorry for myself and really hate when people tell me they wish I didn’t have to deal with this or that. It is really nice and I understand that you want me to have less to deal with, but these are the cards that my choices and life have dealt me.

Yes, I want to be healthier and it would be really nice to fit into some cute new clothes.  The changes that I want to make in my life aren’t going to be completed  overnight; a healthier me means undoing some of the habits that I have cultivated over the years.  Patterns of thoughts that have lead me deeper into depression and with that weight gain and a shaky self-esteem.

Right now, I am at 1,930 steps for the day. In another twenty-minutes, the laundry will be half way done and it will be time for a nap.  When I get up, there is a puppy to walk and more reflecting to be done.