Thursday, July 30, 2015

Self-Doubt Is Some Bullshit!



Darling Janes,

You marvelous, wonderful, magnificent, nothing-but-fabulous creatures…we love you! And we want you to love you, too.

As our two weeks of summer sexy was coming to a close, we started talking about feeling confident, hot, desirable and downright saucy. At the same time, we recognized that summer time sometimes means less fabric and more body shaming. So we decided to take a personal look at our own demons and get real honest about them.

If you can relate, we understand. Also, stop that. Please. Please be kind to yourself. You deserve it. Don’t worry, we will remind you. Often.

Love,

Zoey, Saera, & Amelia



From Zoey Jane's Corner:

I have a confession to make…I agreed to work on this blog to empower, connect, inform, entertain and uplift other women. I agreed that women need more boosting and motivation than we get now. I wholeheartedly believe that. I just, well, I need to take a dose of my own medicine.

No one knocks me down harder than the voice inside my own head; my inner bully. I don’t need internet trolls. I’m my own worst critic.

I’m the heaviest one here. Everyone else looks healthy and I look, well, fat. I probably shouldn’t sit in that chair, it might not hold my weight. I definitely can’t shop in this section of the store. I totally should get up off my fat ass and exercise…why do I make so many excuses? I probably have more food on my plate than anyone else in here and they are all thinking “well, no wonder she’s fat, look at all of that food on her plate!"


He’s gonna be mad at me if I...
OR..He’s gonna be mad at me if I don’t…
I know all my little piles of clutter and my random shoes all over the house drive him crazy.

I talk too much. They are probably so tired of everything always being about me.

I’m so lazy. Lazy. Lazy. Lazy. I don’t keep my house clean enough. I’m not organized enough. I don’t play with the kids enough. I definitely don’t exercise enough.

I’m old enough to know better and I should have my shit together better. I should set a better example for the kids.

I spoil my kids too much. They will probably grow up with no work ethic and a sense of entitlement. I’m that mom. The helicopter mom with those kids.

I’m so bossy & opinionated.

I’m a hypocrite. I say all this stuff, and I truly believe it in my heart, but I don’t do a good enough job practicing what I preach. Fraud. And everyone else probably knows it, too.


It’s not like I don’t read. I’ve seen the posts, read them even, with tips on how to tame negative thoughts. I keep some of those tips in my back pocket and sometimes I’m able to pull them out and trump my hand of invisible clubs to keep the mental beat downs at bay. I know that the way I talk to myself in my mind would be reprehensible if I said that shit out loud, say, to my kids, my coworkers, my friends or my partner.

I once attended a meditation workshop when my counselor – yes I see a counselor, no I’m not ashamed to admit it…if you never have, you should try it sometime – recommended meditation to help with my anxiety. The woman leading the workshop said something that struck me. She told us that there is no sound in the world our bodies and minds find more soothing than our own voice. It’s one of the reasons mantras can be so powerful. Think about how great you feel when you unleash your inner rock star in the car or the shower.

Now, think about how destructive it must be, every time we berate ourselves. If every time I sing “Pour Some Sugar on Me” in my car is therapeutic and I’m uplifted, I can only imagine what happens every time I forget something and say “Well, shit, I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I forgot that.”

Another thing my counselor has drilled into my head is that “the highest spiritual practices are self-awareness and compassion.” Sometimes, that means not just showing compassion for the poor, the homeless, the ill, or the downtrodden…that also means ME. You. We. All of us deserve compassion.

I will not pretend that I have discovered the tricks to taming my inner self-loathing bitch. But, I will share with you a couple secret weapons that, during my moments of clarity, I manage to whip out and they help.

1 - When I catch myself in the act I’ll ask “Would I say this to my kids?” If the answer is no, and undoubtedly it is 99% of the time, I stop and rethink the situation as if I had to give feedback to my kids.

2 - YouTube. No, seriously. Don’t laugh. Okay, laugh, but trust me on this one. Research has shown – and Julia Roberts said it best in Pretty Woman – “People put you down enough, you start to believe it.” Repetition makes stuff stick. Say it over & over and those neural pathways can get pretty entrenched. My secret – IT WORKS BOTH WAYS! Sometimes on a particularly shitty morning, I will put on some positive affirmations while I’m in the shower and repeat those bitches ‘til I feel better. I swear it works. Corny, maybe, but effective for sure!

Confidence Affirmations
I Am Beautiful
Powerfully Positive Affirmations

3 - Stop. Call yourself on it. Compliment yourself. “No, I’m not an idiot. I’m an intelligent capable woman who works full time, cares for a family, runs a household, writes for a blog and volunteers. Forgetting doesn’t make me an idiot, it makes me human.”

I’m not the only one…


From Saera Jane's Corner:

 "I'm going to fail.


This is a favorite. We repeat this over and over and over in our heads to talk ourselves out of the doing the hard thing; the right thing for ourselves. We worry ourselves sick that we are going to disappoint someone and, worse, disappoint ourselves. Because, let's be real - no one is harder on us, than us. So, having to look in the mirror and feel like shit about something we attempted but failed at is a pretty daunting task. It's the internal equivalent of smacking yourself in your own face. But you don't do that, do you? You don't take a 3-mile jog, only to find out that you can't run an entire 3 miles from jump, and then go smack yourself in the face for it, do you? No, of course you don't. Our point is that we need to stop worrying about the "disappointment repercussion." Everything that you want to do and be in your life, you are vastly capable of doing. Period. We all need to take a step back - "failure" and "disappointment" are a part of life. A very integral part of life that teaches us what we should and should not do the next time around. It allows us to make corrections and adjustments and to gain experience and wisdom. In fact, let's not call it "failure" anymore; let's call it "learning." You either win or you learn. So either way you win. Failure doesn't exist.


"I'm not doing enough." 


Ugh. We are perpetually plagued by this bastard. I want to be a CEO. I want to be a perfect mom. I want to give my children the best childhood EVER. I want to be the bestest friend in the entire world. I want to travel everywhere, all the time. I want to start 8 businesses. I want to help everyone on the street that I walk by. I want to volunteer. I want to have the most beautiful home in town. I want to make every episode of sex mind-blowing. I want to get a Master's Degree. No, a PhD. I want to always look like I stepped out of Vogue. No, I actually want to... You get our point.  Just thinking about not doing enough is, in itself, ridiculously fucking exhausting. First, though, let's recognize that this little monstrosity of thought comes from an amazing place. Women are incredibly dynamic (and capable, as you might have heard). We are also caretakers and organizers and exude an amazing amount of empathy on any given Monday through Sunday. We stretch ourselves as thin as possible to cover as many bases as possible. But "thinness" doesn't equate to happiness. Sometimes you have to prioritize and simplify to really squeeze yourself into admitting what's truly important to your happiness. For example, look at your dog or cat - do they look happy? Hell yes. Why? Eat. Play. Poop. Sleep. That's why. So back up off yourself, sister. Give yourself some latitude and some much-deserved downtime to discover YOU.

So, you see, Janes,

Self-doubt is some bullshit.

We all, instinctively, know this, yet we continue to let it poke and prod and push and pull us in directions that we never really intended to go. So, let's just get it out there. Let's have a real fucking honest discussion about those little devils on our shoulders; those little cackling, impish thoughts that force themselves into our internal monologue.


And then let's make a deal with each other: After this, we all go sit down, drink a glass of wine, and toss those bitches right out the window. We see the thoughts. We acknowledge the thoughts - as if say, "Well, hello there. I recognize you from before. I already know what you're going to say." Then, before they can get the words out, we tell them to fuck off. 


Do we have a deal?



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