π‘Έπ’–π’Šπ’• π‘΄π’†π’”π’”π’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝑨𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

That was the advice. Sought after advice. Eagerly awaited advice. Kindly delivered by my wise mentor. Kind because I know she wanted to use the β€œF” word.

I had been focused on building my business and organizing my time. I was stressed about doing something completely new that exposed me, encouraged being vulnerable. I was not tolerating that stress terribly well. My brain kept offering up my old security blanket, overeating.

When I built my new neural pathways, the ones that support me in extinguishing the desire to overeat, I built them strong and wide. I made it easy to divert my thinking away from thoughts that lead to overeating and back to thoughts that lead to focusing on my life, not on my food and/or my weight. For a year and a half, I had successfully kept off the 60 pounds that I had lost by changing my brain. And it was easy.

Now my freedom from food drama began to feel less free. It turns out that the neural pathways that were previously laid down from a lifetime of overeating have not been completely removed. Though the new paths are well established, when my little lizard brain panicked, it chose to run down the old familiar paths, despite 18 months of overgrowth.

I chose to respond with shock, and awe, and confusion.

Not wanting to take responsibility for it.

β€œIt’s the stress.”

β€œIt’s too hard.”

β€œI don’t have the bandwidth to deal with this now.”

Bring on the chips. Ice cream. Handfuls of nuts. And weight gain.

And my panic over the weight gain, of course, led to more weight gain.

Like all my clients, I have a human brain. And that brain wants so desperately to keep me safe. And is wholly inadequate at deciphering what is actually dangerous and what is β€œmade up” dangerous. It doesn’t know that my story, a bunch of sentences in my head, will not actually kill me. But running/overeating from the feeling that story produces 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 actually kill me. Obesity, diabetes, heart disease. All encouraged by overeating.

Now, the choice between believing those sentences and the outcome of that, and the choice to see them as harmless words on a page has taken on a heavier meaning (pun intended). My mental health. My goals. My business. My future. My life.

I asked for advice. Plaintively. She responded with tough love. β€œYou are the best coach for you.”

My confidence in my own abilities is what is going to get me what I want. It’s there. When I clean up my mind, I’ll see it.

I just need to quit messing around.

I’ve got this.

π‘†π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Ž π‘ƒβ„Žπ‘’π‘›π‘›π‘–π‘›π‘” 𝑖𝑠 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ πΏπ‘’π‘Žπ‘‘ π΄π‘ π‘ π‘œπ‘π‘–π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘‘ π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ π»π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘€π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘†π‘‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’: π‘‡π‘œπ‘œπ‘™π‘  π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ 𝐴𝑛 π΄π‘šπ‘Žπ‘§π‘–π‘›π‘” 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒, π‘Ž πΆπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘–π‘“π‘–π‘’π‘‘ 𝐿𝑖𝑓𝑒 π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘Šπ‘’π‘–π‘”β„Žπ‘‘ πΆπ‘œπ‘Žπ‘β„Ž. π‘†β„Žπ‘’β€™π‘  π‘π‘Žπ‘ π‘ π‘–π‘œπ‘›π‘Žπ‘‘π‘’ π‘Žπ‘π‘œπ‘’π‘‘ π‘‘π‘’π‘Žπ‘β„Žπ‘–π‘›π‘” π‘€π‘œπ‘šπ‘’π‘› π‘‘π‘œ π‘™π‘œπ‘ π‘’ 50 π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘π‘œπ‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘ β€¦.π‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘šπ‘Žπ‘›π‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘™π‘¦. π‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘“π‘œπ‘œπ‘‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘šπ‘Ž. π‘π‘œ π‘šπ‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘”π‘”π‘™π‘’.