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What Would a Stronger Me Do?

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The mind is focused. The weight goes down. The mind turns sour. The weight goes up. Forever it’s felt as though the cycle harms only myself, but now there’s another, who my blips of self-collapse become issue for. This is something new, something real. The choice, then, is to continue allowing for slips in judgement, and allowing for inconsistent behavior and self-destructive action… Or, don’t. As the saying goes: If you change nothing, nothing changes. The matter of change only matters if it’s what I want. History says yes. History says I’m changing, but it’s a slow process by myself. Maybe I can do things differently if I respect that I’m not alone.

I am a source of emotional safety for someone else, but not myself? Why? Why am I protective of those I care about, but so eager to dismiss my own safety? Why is it so easy for me to throw incremental personal progress away? If I were to read this, what I’ve just written, without knowing what I’m thinking, it would probably seem too vague, or purposefully ambiguous to a point of uselessness. The problem is that that’s my life. That’s how I’ve lived: neglecting to share the director’s commentary that’s running in my head, affecting my action, rather than being open and working through the obstacles together with those I care for — with those who care for me. What would a Stronger Me do? Maybe that’s the version of myself who should be directing traffic. There is no “or don’t.” Right now it feels like the only alternative is to do better.