I’m about to paint you all a very pathetic and embarrassing picture. Please bear with me.
As I write this, I’m sitting here watching Dawson’s Creek reruns (my love of Pacey knows no bounds) and eating a five-ingredient peanut butter cookie. Both of these are leftover remnants of what my life used to be: food, isolation, television, laziness, comfort. Television and food (and, briefly, alcohol) have been my go-to numbing agents for as long as I can remember.
Back when Dawson’s was in it’s original run in the late nineties, I would hole up in my bedroom with some sort of contraband candy or chips and escape into the angst of the Creek. That nasty habit continued through college, as Ross and Rachel finally got together, and has continued to continue through countless fish dishes prepared by Ina Garten, housewives yanking on each other’s weaves, and a plethora of Lifetime heroines plotting the demise of their philandering, slapping, good-for-nothing hubby’s.
For me, there’s always been great comfort in sitting at home, alone, in front of the tv with cake in my face. There’s no one to judge or point out my recent shortcomings or lack of life progress. The disappointment of the day fades away and you lose yourself in someone else’s ups and downs. The biggest risk you face is not spilling food on your shirt.
I don’t know when or why I became someone who was so afraid, so hesitant, so lazy, so comfortable being uncomfortable. But it happened. Over the past ten months, as I’ve weeded out the bad food, bad energy, and bad habits, TV has been the one lingering ghost–the one thing tying me to my old life. It still prevents me from getting to sleep at a decent enough time where I’ll have the energy to be up for a 5am workout. I still waste hours of potential calorie-burning productivity flipping through the channels. I still shy away from putting myself confidently out in the world, opting not to catch up with my friends, but to catch up with Honey Boo Boo, instead.
In order to save a few much needed bucks, and to hopefully excise the final ghost of Manda Kay past, I’m getting rid of cable tv. I don’t think you can possibly understand how truly excruciating this will be for me. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that–I mean, it’s basically another addiction/crutch I have to face down. But long term, I think this is going to be great. It’s one less excuse, one less distraction. One more step towards making my life a bit more.
What ghosts are you holding onto? What sacrifices have you made to achieve your fitness or weight-loss goals?