Negative Nancy

I am my own worst critic. Everyone is, really, but I think the negative chatter is the thing I hate the most about anxiety. That little voice in my head telling me I’m not good enough, smart enough, cute enough. Whatever. That voice has been with me a long, long time.

Once I finally figured out I had real anxiety and that I wasn’t just really stressed out, I started trying to pay attention to the negative chatter. It’s gotten better thanks to my happy pills, but it’s still there. Picking at me from time to time.

Take today. I overcame my inertia and went to the gym at lunchtime. You would think after a good 30 minutes on the elliptical, plus the walk to and from the gym, I would be able to feel good about myself. And I did…until I saw myself in the full length mirror, in all my naked, pudgy glory. The voice IMMEDIATELY got on my case for being fat, for letting myself go (again).

I have decided to name that negative critical voice Nancy. In honor of a girl who loved to sit beside or behind me in junior high and say nasty crap to me OUT LOUD. She’s really not that different from the inner voice, just slightly more nasal.

So back at the gym, I gave Nancy the finger and told her to stuff it. That yes, I have put on weight, but that I am re-re-re-RE-committed to getting myself healthy and in shape. For me and for my kids. My kids are young and they need me around for a long time. So I need to do this for them AND for myself (not necessarily in that order).

So go to HELL negative Nancy. You’re just another bad habit I’m shedding with my 30s.