This post is a little left of center for Misfit Nutrition this week. Please bear with me.
First, I loathe the words “Self Love”. It’s right up there with “Exercise”. Eww!
For me it’s just one more thing on the never ending “To Do” list.
“Take time for yourself.”
“Put your Oxygen mask on first.”
“FInd someplace quiet.”
Each of those statements makes me cringe.
Anyone knows if they’re a parent (like THE parent. The one that remembers where the lovies were last left, which toothbrush belongs to which kid, who doesn’t like milk ON their cereal but in a cup THEY pour, I’m talking THAT parent), that first one can be like shooting yourself in the foot or just feel like a waste of money.
Such as the hour massage. Oh glorious massage, I do miss you, however, until I can stop carrying my 27 pound child on my hip while vacuuming and picking up toys, your hour of comfort has completely vanished in 7 minutes.
Or the evening exercise class perfectly placed to miss dinner and bedtime which really means preparing the menu earlier. And after a grueling sweat and feeling empowered, you’re met with tiny feet up way past their bedtime knarking on whoever was in charge that they failed to: close the blinds, turn off the lights, turn on the nightlight, brush teeth, do “bad dreams, bad dreams”, read three books (not two!) and so on. Personally I end up feeling more exhausted and defeated than whatever exercise instructor threw at me that evening.
I’ve also been on enough flights to understand the Oxygen thing first. But unfortunately, checking social media has become my oxygen. A way to mindlessly detach while still being visible to those that need me. However, if not careful that can quickly become a good game of “comparison, guilt or hatred”.
And then there’s the someplace quiet. The worse one yet.
Me and my thoughts?
Isn’t that why I pack my schedule to be so busy? To avoid thinking?
Recently I read this post on Facebook. It’s well meaning author was trying to help couples in stagnant relationships. It set the visionary tone of having the spouse cancel their work day, arranging for the kids to go to grandmas, then drawing a bath for said loved one and essentially erase any errands of that day and just talk. To openly and honestly ask “How are YOU doing?” Then to actively listen to their response. Not start a conversation. Not try to problem solve. Not try and get a nooner in. Just listen.
I read this post and immediately wanted to VOMIT!
My initial thought was “HELL NO”. And I even shared this with my husband to warn him never to do this. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to share my feelings. Please don’t even go there. That’s what my closet is for.
Weird perhaps. But that’s me. And so far it’s worked.
Enter the Psychic.
I had an opportunity to do an hour session with a psychic on a phone call…for free. No 1-800 number required. I found myself overwhelmingly drawn to saying yes. Or better yet, I couldn’t figure out how to say no. Perhaps this was a way to feel closer to my departed grandmother who I miss dearly who loved a good clairvoyant reading.
I said my full name three times and we were off.
She opened up with seeing tall sunflowers, beautiful, strong and looking at the sun. But the stems were unusually thin. She concluded this meant lack of support.
For the next hour she let me know that whatever spiritual beings that were watching over and guiding me were telling her that my center has shifted. My chakras were off. My energy although immensely strong to help others is leaving me. That I’m too harsh on myself.
That I need to work on “SELF LOVE”.
“Find an outlet to move forward.”
“Purge the emotions that don’t belong to me.”
More “Self Love”
I need to “Honor my voice.”
“Write it out.”
“This is the answer to everything.”
“With LOVE, nothing is impossible.”
She capped it off with “They keep saying in the end it will all be “Crazy Good.”
I’ve been sitting with this experience in my head for the last 2 weeks; shared with no one, trying to figure out what the heck do I do now?
Do I really need “self love?” Haven’t I been coasting along just fine, filling up my calendar, hiding in my closet, dancing to my own tune?
What is self love anyway?
To clarify Misfit Nutrition was not created because this dietitian loves to eat donuts and sprinkles; albeit there’s definitely some truth in there. But the Misfit Brand was born out of my acceptance of never quite feeling like I fit in. Call it an outsider, an introvert, a nomad full of random feelings, thoughts and opinions. But like most (all?) wanting that desire of acceptance. As Oprah said once, the single common denominator of all her thousands of interviews from celebrity to random citizen was “did you hear me, did you see me, did what I say matter?”
And I happen to have some amazing clients, that whether they felt like a misfit in their own head, took a chance on me and have had amazing results in their weight loss and health journey.
However, there are only a few in my circle that know when I created Misfit Nutrition, LLC it was just a co-brand in my head to Misfit Love. A community space to share random thoughts, personal triumphs and things that scare you to death like anxiety or depression or needing to check the locks 8 times before bed (or sharing your feelings). Where a tiny piece of your Misfit self can feel free and safe.
While I’m trying to figure out the whole Self Love thing, I’ll be opening up a space either in blog format on my website, utilizing my already purchased months ago Misfitlove.co site that’s currently empty or creating a private Misfit Love Facebook page. Honestly I haven’t worked out any of the details. (EDIT: Oh but I’ve started to! As of 10/22/18, please join me at the MisfitLove.Co private FB community here)
In the meantime, if you have a post of your own to share via Misfit Love or have discovered what Self Love means to you, please, PLEEEEASE email me at Kim@misfitnutrition.com. I could use some insight.
Just promise me, you won’t ask me how I’m doing.
Misfit Hugs, Kim
Ps. Thanks for allowing me to share. We’ll resume the regular, humorous Misfit Nutrition posts next time.