I have this image in my head.

I wake early, just as the sun is peeking over the mountains. I silently slip into workout clothes — shorts, a tank-top. I lace up my running shoes. I step outside, and the brisk air chills my skin as I begin to jog in place. The sidewalks are empty, the roads are clear. And I run. My legs take me effortlessly wherever I want to go. I am a runner.

Problem is, in my mind, my body isn’t mine. In my mind, gone are the war-torn feet, the sore knees, the strained neck and shoulders. Gone are the curvaceous hips, the thighs that jiggle with each step, the doubled-down sports bra toting chest. Where my body once was, I am suddenly a statuesque Amazon, solid and slim. It’s not my body. Instead, it’s what I always thought my body should be. Somehow, in that body, I am limitless.

For many years, I felt boxed in by my body, somehow confined by my physical form. Whenever I felt particularly self-loathing, depressed or overwhelmed with what I thought was an unlived life, I would invoke that Amazonian image. I would tell myself that I would workout a little harder, a little smarter, eat better, or less, or strategically, and, somehow, I would finally feel free.

In those moments, I firmly believed that it was my body that was holding me back. Truthfully, some days, I still do.

But, if I’m honest with myself, I know that it’s not my body that holds me back. I know that I am not hemmed in, constricted or limited by my figure or the way that my clothes fit. I know that I am not defined by the fact that, in reality, I am not a runner. Heck, I hate running. It’s not my weight, my height or my dress size that stops me from achieving my dreams and living a truly phenomenal life.

It’s me. And the falsehood that I choose to believe.

I am confined by a picture in my head of what I should be. Limited by my perception of beauty, strength, and what it looks like to be free, I should all over myself. It’s a mess.

To believe that I am somehow less or limited, just by virtue of being me, is the most tragic, truly limiting lie that I could ever swallow.

Rather, it is in authenticity that freedom is discovered. @katemccarthy (Click to Tweet!)

That life that I pictured for myself, that image in my head, is not only an illusion and a trap – it’s also not a life that I want to live. If I strip away the should, if I unwrap myself from its tangled vines, I get a glimpse of what my life could look like. And it’s pretty freaking magnificent.

Rather than a runner, pounding the pavement with each early-morning run (have I mentioned that I hate running?), I find clarity in daily long walks, energy on the tennis court and flexibility in my yoga practice. Rather than getting caught on the sharp edges of my “flaws,” I let my strong core – built from years of side-splitting laughter and heavy lifting – reveal solid strength and grounded centeredness.

When I free myself from the layers of self-loathing garbage and life-limiting lies, I find that I don’t need anything else to build the life that I deeply desire.

I have it all. Clarity and flexibility, strength and centeredness, laughter and energy.

And those ingredients create a deliciously magnificent life.


Kate McCarthy is a writer, professional shame slayer, and body love revolutionary. She writes at katekmccarthy.com, where you can find her free eBook, “The Body Love Kit.” She leverages body love as a transformational tool to unlock freedom and help women create massive change in their lives. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

 

 

Image courtesy of Death to Stock Photo.