A Touch of Rain

Question Time

Why do I always question myself?

Questioning why I question myself…seems a decent summary of the post that’s about to follow.

A little while ago I was at the GP surgery. There was some big delay and mishap with their systems so I was sat in her office whilst she went to print out some forms in a different room. I noticed a set of scales in the corner and I just could not help myself.

I’d been weighed prior to my surgery in July 2020 but had not known my weight since then and I was just so unbelievably desperate to know. I’m aware I shouldn’t care about losing weight but I wanted to see if the results of my surgery and also just simply because I had worked to increase my calories to a maintenance level over the last few months and wanted to see what that progress correlated to.

I quickly stepped on.

The number was so different to what I expected.

It made me happy.

Which then made me feel guilty because I know numbers do not equal happiness and frequent weigh ins would only hinder my recovery.

However, I then did that thing from all those years ago where I convinced myself the scales must be broken. That they were wrong and I was massively overweight. When I was really ill, I’d move my scales around to see if the number stayed the same. I’d grab something I knew was a couple of kilos, see if the weight went up, step off and remove it, see if the weight went back down. I could never accept the first number I saw.

(FYI this is not a post about my weight)

I’ve always questioned any “success”. I always minimised any of my sporting achievements because they never were the pinnacle – the Paralympic Games. I always downplay any positive feedback at work by thinking any other junior associate would be just as good if not better than me. I don’t enjoy listening to any compliments about me and…why?

Because, I think I don’t deserve them and need to be better.

Accepting positivity could make me complacent and I must push on to be better.

To be better.

Better at what?

And why?

Because for most of my life I was never good enough so of course I can never allow myself to feel good enough.

I wasn’t good enough for my family who bullied me and joked I would need an arranged marriage because I was fat and ugly. I wasn’t good enough for my boyfriends or any guy I dated who treated me badly or abused me. I wasn’t good enough for any of my “friendship” groups who asked me to tag along because I was fat and this would make them look more desirable. I wasn’t good enough for my coaches…for the Paralympics despite doing everything they told me to do and despite people being respectively slower than me getting selected.

I’ve never been good enough. So I pushed to be better and this desire to be better was one of the many tanks fuelling my Demon.

So now I’m actively trying to let myself breathe and simply be good enough just as I am. Slowly accepting the positive feedback and recognising that I have achieved and I’m continuing to achieve. That I’ve always been worthy of respect and progress.

So no more questions. Just acceptance. Because, after all these years, I truly deserve some inner peace.

Don’t we all?

Len x

@recovery_lens /

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