Wishes Take Hard Work
Wishes come true, but not free! Show up for yourself! Consistency is key!
Do you make wishes on eyelashes? I do. I grew up making wishes on everything: dandelions, candles, driving over railroad tracks. But I always remember what my Aunt Marygrace taught me about wishes: they can be misunderstood and twisted if you don’t get the wording just right, so be very careful what you wish for. The fact that Disney’s animated Aladdin came out when I was in fourth grade definitely contributed to my serious dedication to the contemplation of possible wishes. Of course, I would never wish for material things because I am of the “when you know you can’t have what you want, where’s the profit in wishing?” mindset, so I find it irrational to covet items outside my budget or lifestyle. For years I’ve made a conscious effort to keep my wishes simple and positive, focused on peace, joy, and general good health. However, I would be remiss if tried to pretend all of my wishes and hopes are entirely selfless and wholesome. I am certain I am not alone when I say that over the course of the day, I sometimes make several inadvertent wishes regarding things I would change about myself. Which is why I was so surprised by the wish that automatically popped into my head when I noticed an eyelash on my cheek tonight.
Now, I am not particularly superstitious in the traditional sense, so I will happily disclose what I wished for, but first I think I should explain why it meant so much to me. I am very confident in myself as a person. I know who I am, and I try to absorb whatever new information or experiences I come across that increase my knowledge and widen my perspective. I am dedicated to self-improvement and one of the tools necessary to the practice is self-reflection, which can be more or less difficult depending on the circumstance. But even with this confidence in myself, sometimes negative self-talk is just another component of my consciousness, sliding in to watch from the back of the crowd. There is nothing it can say that I have not heard before, so most of the time I can ignore it. Often it pertains to my physical appearance, although that has changed in the last decade of my life. I make every effort to avoid diet culture. I do not count calories or punish myself for eating bread. I am not the friend who will notice a change in your weight unless you mention it, and I will tell you right now that I am already bored by the conversation, because weight has nothing to do with self-worth. “Fat” is not a bad word in my house. I do not own a scale. I am well aware that there is a veritable onslaught of messaging specifically targeted at my demographic with the sole purpose of reducing my self-worth, especially as it pertains to my physical appearance, and I refuse to be manipulated.
Having spent nearly four decades in this body with very little hope of ever inhabiting an entirely different one, I can honestly say that I love my body very, very much. I am so thankful for my capability and health. I am thankful for the strength of my muscles and fact that I have never broken a bone. For being the glorious vessel that perfectly nourished and produced my three stardust babies, leaving not even a trace of a stretch mark behind. For allowing me to experience this incredible life, and to breathe the air and drink in the sky. To feel joy, awe, pleasure, pain. What a splendid thing it is to be a human in a body! But that was absolutely not always the case for me. In high school I remember telling my friends that I didn’t feel like I was truly “in” my body. Like I was floating above it, using only my brain to communicate, not my mouth and certainly not the body I was perceiving as outside the realm of what socially acceptable bodies should be. I used to wish with all my heart that I could look different, although I never had a specific idea of what I wanted that to be, because the rational part of my brain always somehow managed to be the firm, dominant voice, reminding my adolescent self that I could not in fact trade bodies with ANY celebrity or model because that was not an actual possible thing. “So, get over it,” my brain would say to my insecure thoughts. I spent all of high school feeling insecure about being overweight because I thought it was something I just had to accept about myself.
I didn’t realize that exercise was a possible thing. I didn’t learn to work out until I was a twenty-eight-year-old mother of one, in the process of weaning my breastfeeding toddler. Having never worked out in my life, I was too shy to go to the gym, so I took home some free workout DVDs I found in the break room at work (I used to sell supplements at Whole Foods many, many years ago), bought myself some weights and a yoga mat and began what became one of the most important journeys of my entire life. Up until that point I thought I was who I was and there was no altering that fact. I did not realize the self-confidence and self-empowerment I would build in showing up for myself every day. I had no idea how much I could change my own attitude about my body! Rather than the feelings I’d had toward my body up until that point, like it was something happening to me rather than part of myself I have the power to change. My thought process shifted as I told myself that there was no reason to experience self-loathing if I was doing everything right; exercise was a beneficial gift to give my body, with no expectation other than health. I was showing up, wasn’t I?! And it was not about weight loss, although in the beginning that was an exciting component, as I’d never experienced that before. Instead, it was about my personal power, building endurance and watching my muscle tone develop. Every single time I showed up for myself, every time I pushed through my impulse to skip a day, it felt like a personal win.
And I haven’t stopped. I have been working out semi-consistently for the last ten years, although during 2020 and 2021 I found it more challenging to remain focused on my personal needs and goals. I drank excessively and ate second dinner more nights than not. Then, in February of this year, I turned 38. It has been ten years since the beginning of my exercise journey, an entire decade since the first time I blew my own mind with my own strength and capability. And I hate to admit it, but before my birthday I made a very sad promise to myself: I promised that I would work out every day until my birthday and be as thin as I was when I was that one time when I was 28. It makes me cringe just thinking about it. Needless to say, that goal was NOT met, but something else happened instead! In January of this year, the month before my birthday, I stopped drinking entirely. Then, on my 38th birthday, I started working out again. And I did it again the next day. And the next. After a few days my husband, Adam, started joining me. On days when I might have otherwise been lazy, his motivation kept me going. And tomorrow, April 15th, will mark two months of working out at least six days a week! Which feels so great to share, because I am proud of us.
Aria now. Current status: Getting stronger!
Which brings me back to the wish I made on the eyelash tonight. A wish that popped into my head without a forethought, and filled me with contentment and warmth because I realize that where I am in my life is a place where I can experience true gratitude. It feels good to look back over all the different versions of myself and know I am a place of positive change and personal growth. For all the confusing moment in that came before. For all the moments when I feel lost at sea, or like I’m an actor, mistakenly stuck in someone else’s life story. For all the insecurities, imposter syndrome, and self-doubt, there was still that firm little voice that called out confidently above the others, “I wish you keep showing up for yourself the way you have been.” Well, little voice, I certainly will try.