Little Bites

I forgot to set my alarm. I scrunched up my face and buried it back into the pillow. “So much for new years resolutions Danielle, you’ve already failed at your first one. What a great way to start the year… failing.” I can be pretty mean to myself, I don’t need anyone else’s help in that regard. It’s in my mindset, my old mindset, the one I no longer give two shits about. The mindset that enabled me: to be fat, to be lazy, to have frizzy hair, to have hairy legs, to not call my friends, to not own up to my fears.

I’m not cured, that mindset is still there but for the first time I really feel like I’m fighting it.

I swung my feet out of bed, put on my socks and slipped on my pants. It felt weird to be getting dressed this early. I’m the kind of lady that likes to be in her PJs until ten but here I was, putting on activewear. I had all the gear I needed I just lacked the motivation.  I’m not sure where it came from exactly: Tulin with all her strength and will power, quite possibly Nicole and her idea of fitness “me time” and definitely Rhi and her stamina and drive.

This isn’t a weight loss post, far from it. It’s about time, how I use it and figuring out what I really want from the time I have.

My mind has been feeling stagnant, constipated even. You’ve noticed the sponsored posts around here lately, how could you not. They’re easier to write than sharing my feelings. I get a product, I use it, I take photos and then I tell you what I think, there is a formula. There is no formula for feelings, especially not the ones I’ve been dealing with. Who wouldn’t want to be distracted by pretty things, I know I did and I thought you did too but I guess for a few of you I was wrong.

Over the holidays I stepped away from the online world and in doing so I left myself with no distractions which forced me to deal. To talk things out with Steve, with my Mum, with my sister and with my Rhi. I felt better, a weight lifted. I felt I could finally start writing again, really writing. The kind where tears fall on the keyboard and I can’t bear to spell check for fear I’ll delete the whole thing after re-reading it.

I made a promise to myself.

To allow myself space and time to write. Yes I’d still continue blogging about all the pretty things, taking photographs and striving to leave my mark on the fashion industry but I’d no longer allow myself to be a hollow hero. I want you to know more about me than just my average clothes and my ambition. I want to be raw and document more of who I am, as I am, in the moment and not just who I think you want to see. So I set two alarms on my phone, one for 6am and one for 10am. One to run and one to write.

I pop the headphones on that I bought myself for Christmas and head out the door. It’s hot and every fiber of my being wants me to go back inside and plonk my ass on the couch but something new stirs within me. It’s not forceful, arrogant or demeaning, it’s more of a “Let’s get this shit done already” voice. It doesn’t mess around with time and I decide I don’t want to either, not anymore.

I walk and then I run. I’m a size 22, I weight 128 kilos, I’m asthmatic but I didn’t make a big deal, I just got shit done. I wont lie, it felt like I was dying but at the same time it felt good. I’m hoping it feels good every morning because I’m going every day before Steve goes to work. Gone are the days of gym memberships, I’ve tried three times and they just leave me feeling isolated in a crowded place and guilty. Now it’s just me, Charlie, my thoughts and the sound of my own heavy breathing.

It’s what my mind was missing I think, time to itself.