(Day 26/122 of the experiment)
I feel like I watched all the videos on setting and achieving goals yesterday evening. And I realized why I still work out at the gym and go to stretching classes – I don’t expect quick results, and I enjoy the process. So, I’m simply doing what needs to be done and gradually moving forward.
In general, working with a psychologist acts on me like a good slap in the face – I am becoming aware of so much in my life, understanding why I live the way I do, rather than differently. And I have just one question – why didn’t I go to a therapist sooner?
Text No. 4. My Appearance
I don't think I'm an ugly woman, but there’s something wrong with me. Maybe it's my bite, or my nose isn’t skinny enough. Or perhaps my waist is too wide? I don’t know. But there is clearly something wrong with me. And it’s precisely because of that something that I am still single and of no interest to anyone.
In school, I was really an ugly duckling. For almost two years, I wore a dental plate – my upper canine was sticking out, and the doctor said that only the plate could fix the situation. And whereas braces physically cannot fall off the jaw, the plate handles that task excellently. So when I was eating a tasteless roll in the cafeteria, I would periodically lose my plate – no, it didn’t fall onto the table like false teeth, it simply slipped off my teeth and painfully hit my lower jaw. Everyone, except for me, found it funny.
Let’s move on. In school, I didn’t consider myself pretty, because none of the boys paid attention to me. Yes, I had a lot of male friends, but they were just friends. And when my classmates received cards and gifts from boys on March 8th, I only got a book from my grandmother.
I remembered a funny situation. In third grade, I really liked a boy from my parallel class. His name was Denis. He was a blonde with big brown eyes. And once, after lessons, when we were hanging out on the playground, I confessed my feelings to him. I said – Denis, I really like you. He laughed loudly and said – Cinderella, you’re not pretty! I won’t marry you. The only nice thing about you is your name!
And that’s it. Since that autumn day, I’ve been convinced that I’m not pretty. And I’d also be ready to argue about the beauty of my name.
The end of the story.
(Day 27/122 of the experiment)
This morning, I wrote a letter to Denis. Yes, yes – that classmate who called me ugly. Of course, I didn’t send the letter; I burned it instead, but the important thing is the fact that I wrote it. Sveta said yesterday that this boy sowed the seeds of insecurity and the feeling that I am ugly within me. After all, most psychological traumas stay with us from childhood. For example, if mom said you drew a bad picture, that’s it – the desire to become an artist immediately gets stored away in a drawer labeled “Will do it never.” And so it goes with everything – even the smallest things.
I meditated, ran around the village, and quickly went to training. Right now is such an interesting and important time in my life that I just don’t want to waste a minute. Besides texts and their analysis, Susan gives me daily practices that will help me become happier.
One of these exercises is a gratitude journal. Every morning and evening, I take a notebook (I bought a nice one – with a unicorn on the cover) and write down at least 10-15 things I am grateful for today. It sounds very easy, but in practice, it’s very difficult. Because the arguments run out after “a delicious dinner,” “training,” “my cat.” The gratitude journal is very useful because it teaches the brain to focus on the good in life. And Sveta says that in a couple of weeks it will be easier for me to come up with things for which I am so grateful.
Text No. 5. Why I don’t love myself and consider myself a bad person
In my life, I haven’t done anything good or useful. Well, except for getting Richard. But who knows, perhaps another woman would have been a better cat mom to him?!
I haven’t had normal communication with my family for many years; just a few days ago, I had an honest conversation with my parents and sister. I think they don’t want to communicate with me precisely because I’m a mediocre person.
I don’t have my own family – not even a boyfriend! My last boyfriend said that I wasn’t worth him. And he left me, although I was planning to do it first. There you go – a guy I wanted to dump left me!
My whole life I’ve been going with the flow. Is there a job? Great! So what that it doesn’t bring any pleasure; I don’t have to change anything drastically. Is there Jensen (or rather there was – he’s my last boyfriend)? Well, that’s fine! And I don’t care that I don’t love him and he’s somewhat wrong. At least I have something already – a bird in the hand, so to speak. And that also annoys me a lot. It feels as if everything has already been decided for me a long time ago. I’m just like a character in a computer game – doing what I have to do.
So why should I love myself? For being so spineless and weak-willed?
The end of this silly story about a silly Cinderella.
My hopes to get away with just one text were completely shattered by a new task from Sveta:
20 things I LOVE about myself:
I have Richard.
I dared to undertake this experiment and moved to a completely unfamiliar place for a whole four months.
I have a job.
I have an education.
I have straight teeth.
I have two friends.
I can write well.
I already have three thousand followers on Instagram.
I’m young and still have time to live a little.
I love Richard.
̶I̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶TTristan ̶ I engage in sports.
I attend Pilates.
I almost don’t drink alcohol (once a week a glass of wine – that’s “almost don’t drink,” right?).
I wake up early.
I go for runs/walks.
I eat healthily.
I can take care of myself.
I haven’t used my vacation, so I have time for this crazy experiment.
I was the first to call my parents and sister.
I have a rare name.
Now these 20 phrases are my affirmations. I have to repeat them every day and start to believe in them sincerely. Believe that my name is not silly, but rare. Believe that it’s cool to drink only one glass of wine a week. It will be hard, but there’s no choice.