So today I’m trying to “lighten up” all the stuff I hang onto…which really is weighing me down. Think “if I were to live (by choice) in a van, what would fit? Do I really need all this stuff?”

While doing that “lightening up” I came across this gem. My first pair of running shorts from 2004. They are size “3 Extra Grande”…seriously that’s what the tag says! The only place I could get shorts to exercise was JCPenney.

As I hold these in my hand I am overcome with so many feelings. There is a bit a pride. I’ve come a long way and I do know that.  But I also feel sad, and I’m not sure why.  I work so hard not to see the fat girl in the mirror, but she’s always there. She fucking haunts me.

The self image struggles I have stem from her. She’s the bully in my life.  She’s every negative thought, every I can’t, every I’m not good enough, every I’m not even going to try.

But looking at these shorts, holding them in my hand I realize I am not my pants size. I wasn’t them and I’m sure as hell not now.

#beyourinnerrockstar

 

Found my heart on the trail today. It’s been broken. It’s weathered, worn and rough around the edges. Yet it’s as solid as a rock. It’s strong enough to withstand the worst of storms. It’s the thing I love most about myself. It gives every part (as broken those parts my be) of itself to others. The love it feels is rooted deeply. It leads me down paths I never thought imaginable. It feels pride in its imperfection. (And I’m really happy it pumps blood through my body!) #beyourinnerrockstar

Consumed with self-doubt I found myself believing the mounds of shit my inner critic was telling me, when someone pointed to a picture of me and asked me, “Tell me about this girl. Who is she? What is she telling herself in this moment?” And then it hit me.  I love and believe in the person I become when I have that pink wig on.

I held that photo for a minute or two with a smile on my face.  How quickly the chatter in my head quieted.  My heart began to smile and I as I took each breath my chest rose in pride.

I answered, “She’s not thinking.  She’s doing. She’s got a job to do in that moment (which was to get that swimmer into the T1 swim tents as quickly as possible!) She’s helping, something the loves to do and loves herself when doing it.  Although many know who she is, the person featured in the photo doesn’t. It warms her heart that the person will only remember the moment a pink-haired stranger helped her. She doesn’t care what others are thinking of her, although she’s tuned to knowing she’s put herself out there with that hair. Nothing seems impossible to her in that moment. She can do anything. She’s happy. She feels complete. And that’s everything in her world.”

There have been several other moments the pink wig has made an appearance. And those moments pretty much leave the same impression on me.

So is this pink-haired Rockstar my superhero persona?  You know, like Diana Price/Wonder Woman; Bruce Wayne/Batman; Clark Kent/Superman?  And which is the real me? Is Szabo my secret identity or is the pink-haired Rockstar who I really am? How can I be a combination of both?

I went home from that conversation (disclosure, it was with my therapist) got out the pink wig and began to wrestle the inner critic while working on a project which forced me to ‘market’ myself to complete strangers. The goal was to show my strengths in a way which they’d realize I was good enough for them.  The room suddenly filled with magic once I donned the wig.  Confidence exhumed as the words effortless flowed across the paper.  (full disclosure, I’m wearing the wig as these words flow across this paper.)

 

I don’t believe being my inner Rockstar takes any superhuman abilities.  It would seem that I already possess the qualities and traits needed to be my inner Rockstar and this is just a one small step in finding them.

 

 

The other day a friend challenged me to look at the thing(s) in my life that I keep carrying around and taking with me from place to place. While the conversation started by looking at such things like an old high school jersey or other keepsakes, I believe it was meant for me to look much deeper.  I had to think for a few days. What is it that I’m carrying around with me, what is it that I’m hanging onto, why is it that I’m hanging on to it and how is it serving me (or not serving me)?

Today on the Carousel of Happiness, I realized what it was that I’m dragging around with me.  It’s the sixth grader. If you know me well enough, you know who or what the sixth grader originally represented.  And at the time, it was meaningful to help me understand/comprehend what was happening in my life (I wasn’t fully understanding the weight I had lost at that time and the direction I was moving forward in). As time moved forward that sixth grader, although representing a loss, stayed with me and has been weighing me down.

When I look into the mirror I still the person who carried that sixth grader. I’m constantly running from him/her.  I’m deathly afraid of their return. A return to the life I’d hope to never live again.  My self-image is so very deeply rooted in this fucking sixth grader.  They are my inner critic, my bully, my every self negative thought and the very thing that keeps me from being my inner Rockstar.

 

There was a post in a group I belong to on Facebook. The poster was questioning to the group when would he finally feel like the race he just did was like the greatest thing every to happen to him. He questioned when it would sink in, when would he feel the accomplishment he just achieved, when would he feel the excitement, the euphoria.

Almost immediately and with out thought or hesitating this was my reply:

I think it depends on what you were expecting it to feel like. My experience not finishing brought to my attention what I expected was so much on the surface. Almost if you could imagine like at the Maters I would be bestowed with a green jacket, or I’d be issued a gold card that would get me into the exclusive club…Little did I realize that one, I was a part of the club all along, and two that outter Rockstar I wanted to be was all an act. Now, with lots of therapy, I’ve realized it’s the inner Rockstar that will ‘validate’ me.

I had the answer in me all along…

“In a society that profits from your self-doubt…liking yourself is a rebellious act.”

FIND AND BE YOUR INNER ROCKSTAR

It’s been 5 years since that day that I swore would change my life forever!  I had these naive thoughts of what would life would be like after crossing that finish line. My husband would love me more, my friends would like me more, I’d like me more.  I know it sounds strange, but it was the perception I had at the time.

But it didn’t happen. I didn’t cross that finish line that night. And it turns out, my husband didn’t want to be married to me anymore as confessed days so finishing wasn’t going to change that.

I remember dreaming about it.  My creative imagination saw me crossing the finish-line where the heavens would then open and angles would sing, and rays of sunshine would glide me effortlessly across the finish.  Upon crossing the line i would presented with a green jacket like in the Masters or they’d open a box and present me with a gold card (of course as the box opened it sang with hymns) and I would have entry into the club.  Typing this now, so makes me realize how naive this perspective was.

A finish line doesn’t change a person. It doesn’t make anyone like me any more or less.  It doesn’t even make me like me any more.  The challenge comes in the journey. How your heart grows, how you grow.

In thinking about the critic vs. the rockstar…

Why do we listen to our inner critic so much? What if Led Zeppelin listened to critics who were highly critical of Led Zeppelin I? The album was a an ode to rock’s progressive metamorphosis! This album set the stage for all future music and position Led Zeppelin as the most influential/greatest rock band of all time! We’d have no stairway to heaven had they changed their direction on their first album because the critics said too…

So the question is, why do we make decision about ourselves based on what the inner critic says? (ie: I’m not good enough, fast enough, skinny enough to do XYZ or I don’t have enough of those skills to apply for that job). Why do we create the stories in our heads?

There is a lot of chatter around races tomorrow that may or may not have changes due to various things that cannot be controlled or predicted. I share my perspective as I too am toeing up to a start line tomorrow not knowing if weather will turn us around, shorten the course or even allow us to start. My fourth year training for this race was with the attitude of “I’m going to keep doing this damn race, until I get it right!” My friends, before I lace up my sneakers tomorrow I already know I’ve got it right.

I shared this experience with so many and grateful for that. There were the evenings spent sharing space on Sanitas, the mornings I headed out alone to find myself on a trail I had not yet found, the group runs, rides and strength trainings together where we pushed ourselves to all sorts of uncomfortable color zones. And the adventures to new places in the hills and mountains we see every day. Fuck Ya’ we live here! Time to be alive!

This year was going to be different, and it is. I’m different, my perspective about why I do these crazy things is different. I’ve got this right, I’m exploring new places, pushing new limits, sharing time with good people, and finding my inner rockstar.

I have a theroy. I believe we all have an inner rockstar in us.  We just need to believe in ourselves to bring them out!  This blog is about me researching and proving my theroy as well as my journey to find my inner rockstar! Thanks for joining.