I weigh *** pounds (and other truths about working from home)

I weigh *** pounds (and other truths about working from home)

Let’s visit The Land of Brutal Honesty.

It’s a dark place, but a necessary one. In the land of brutal honesty, we’ve got to talk about the voices in your head that say terrible things.

Let’s hone in on my personal voice, since that’s the one most readily available to me at any given time.

My personal voice says I’m too fat to do __________, where any activity that fills in the blank has nothing to do with the size of my things.

Friend, here is actual dialogue heard coming from my brain in the past week:

“You weigh 182 pounds, you think you can write that!?” (For sure, the number on the scale affects my ability to make sentences. Don’t you know people who weigh less than 100 pounds make the best sentences? You. Break. Sen. tences, Kris-ten?)

“You’re so…fucking…fat. So fat. Soooooo fat.” (This one plays on loop when my brain is out of other ammo. Classy, eh?)

“You’re broke, you know. I mean, I know you think you’ve got money in the bank, but if you got cancer and got into a car accident and then your friends all refused to loan you money or help you out, you’d be screwed.” (Because if I got into a cancer-car-accident, my BANK ACCOUNT would be my first concern.)

“She’s really mad at you. She didn’t say she is, but SHE IS.” (Ah yes, thank you for the paranoia regarding that one friend who didn’t respond to a text message within a few hours. On Sunday. She couldn’t have been ignoring her phone — she must be plotting my imminent demise.)

“You should be farther along by now. Look at her, she’s got hundreds of thousands of adoring fans…what’s the matter with you?” (Shame me for not making progress by delaying my progress with these thoughts. Classic brain manipulation at work.)

Yah. My brain has a fucking lunatic voice inside it. Yours does, too.

Your brain says simple things to start, like:

“You’re not good enough.”
“You’re too _______.”
“That’ll never work.”

And on and on and on, until you’re worried about cancer-car-accident scenarios instead of writing your blog post or meeting with that new client.

Here’s the thing: you are good enough.

If you don’t do the work, no one else will.

No one else has the crazy-ass combination of talents, quirks, brain voices, challenges, and stories that live within you, so nobody else can do the work you do.

Even if you bag groceries at the Acme or sell soap door to door. No one can do it like you. You can sit around freaking out about how much soap the lead guy on your team is moving every day, or you can get out there and beat him at his own game.

You can keep freaking out because your thighs have cellulite, or you can ignore your thighs entirely while you do things like paint and sew and draw and raise babies and plan your next business moves while embracing the messy fullness of your life in this moment.

Your crazy voices will never go away.  They’re what make you human.
But you don’t have to listen to them.

You can make progress despite the number on the scale, the number in your bank account, the number of followers you’ve got, or the number of clients on your calendar.

The numbers don’t have the final say. You do.

As for those voices in your head?

Ignore ’em.  Change the tapes.
And acknowledge that we’ve all got ’em.
Sadly, you’re no more crazy than the rest of us.


P.S.  Your brain is an asshole.