What does it take to make a person give a shit about themselves? I haven’t quite figured this one out yet.
It would seem that some people need a small prod. Some people need a swift, firm kick in the ass. And still yet, some others never quite seem to give a shit at all.
I think I must fall in to this last category. I mean, why else would I keep doing the same damned thing knowing I’m going to get the same damned results?
Someone I once knew told me that people don’t do the same thing over and over expecting a different result. They do the same thing over and over because they know they’ll get the same result~ a result that works somehow. Now, this was stated during a discussion on addiction, but I think it’s applicable here, as well.
noun: addiction; plural noun: addictions
the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.
physically and mentally dependent on a particular substance, and unable to stop taking it without incurring adverse effects.
…without incurring adverse effects. Exactly. So someone does the same thing over and over because they know that they’ll get the same results: a lack of adverse effects. Stimulation. Sedation. Comfort. (Ever heard of “comfort food”?) If a person knows that they can do ‘A’ and get ‘B’ then of course that’s what they’re going to do, right?
Let’s bring this into the context of me and my “lack of give a shit”. I suppose I shouldn’t say that I don’t give a shit about myself. I really, actually do. I worry about myself quite regularly. I worry about my physical health and my mental health. I actually border-line obsess about the physical part of it, quite honestly. And yet…. here I am. Still fat. Blood sugar still out of control. Still eating shit I shouldn’t eat. Still generally unhealthy. Still working my way towards a fucking heart attack or stroke or worse.
I have no idea. I believe it has something to do with not wanting to incur any adverse effects of giving up the one thing that I feel like I need to be… I’m not sure what word I need here? Happy? Content? Satiated? Anyway, it’s food. So good, so yummy, so carby, so comforting ~food. Funny thing, though, is the love-hate relationship I actually have with food. ALL food. Good-for-you food, bad-for-you food, the tastiest fucking food, bland and crappy food… all food. I love it and I hate it. I hate it before I even eat and I hate it once it hits my lips and I hate that it makes me hate myself. Hell, I hate that I even have to eat it to survive.
But I can’t seem to give it up, either. I mean, of course I can’t give up food. Duh. I mean I can’t even give up the stuff I should. It’s the shit that I need to give up that I want the most: carby, carby, carb carbs baby. Bread. Pasta. Rice. (sigh)
I have this friend. She recently was diagnosed with diabetes. She made immediate life changes to improve her health and well-being and hasn’t looked back. She’s doing an amazing job taking care of herself and controlling her weight, her blood sugar, etc. She’s doing everything right. She gives a shit. I’m crazy happy for her. I’m proud of her. And yet, I envy her. I envy her drive and determination and her sense of self-worth. Or whatever it is that motivates her.
I want a little bit of that. I want to give a shit. Or something. I want whatever it is that creates the drive to do better for myself and for my family (surely they deserve better?) I want the pride that goes along with knowing that I made the right choices ~ at least for today.
All of that said, I quit smoking five days ago. I suppose if I can do that I can conquer a few carbs, right?
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