The Aftermath...

So after laying in bed beating myself up mentally for my imperfections and feeling sorry for myself I turned to my good old friend pinterest. Patrick was doing his best to make me feel better, but when I'm in that frame of mind I get irrational and don't want to hear what I consider to be lies.

So I turned to pinterest to find motivational quotes and other uplifting messages to pull me out of my funk. 

That's where I found this:

I've also had many people tell me that I should only speak to myself the way I would speak to a friend. I wouldn't have any friends left if I spoke to them the way I was speaking to myself last night. Awful, hateful things were coming out of my mouth. And it didn't help anything. It only made me feel worse about myself and about my body. 

It's interesting that the night before last I asked Patrick to massage my legs. They've been sore from running and squats. He told me that my legs are feeling toned. Very simple and straightforward. It felt great to hear that compliment! But my own mind can take that compliment and beat it until it's unrecognizable. It will point out five flaws for every one compliment I receive. It's a mind-fuck (for lack of a better term) and it's not a good place to be...

I wish I could be one of those women who may not have a toned body, and may even still want to fix their imperfections, but can wear a bathing suit and look damn good in it. You don't have to be a super model to look good in a bathing suit.. These women have something I crave. 

Confidence!

Who cares if my thighs touch? Who cares if my stomach is droopy and has stretch marks? I mean, I had a baby with a c-section... Muscles were cut people! Who cares if my boobs aren't quite where they should be? Again, baby.. And gravity! Who cares if I'm not perfect?

No one else cares but me. No one. I can guarantee that no one else cares about any of that but me, and no one else sees it but me. And if they do see it they surely don't say anything to me about it.

I have always been told that I am my own worst critic. Since elementary school I can remember being upset things I did, thinking it wasn't good enough.. School, sports, art, my body. I'm constantly berating myself and my efforts.

I don't want to be a critic anymore. What I do is more than enough. I want to be a cheerleader. I need to be my own cheerleader in order to have any success in life. If I continue to criticize myself then all I am doing is allowing others to criticize me. If I start to root for myself then others will cheer for me too.