I don’t know what I’m doing.
July 1, 2020
I bought this fitness app a couple of months ago. it’s a thing that combines the use of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) with tools to track calories, exercise, steps, and all that other stuff.
I’m glad Richard Simmons didn’t have to compete with the convenience of a personal trainer in your phone. We needed Deal – a – Meal cards precisely when we got them. Thank you Mr. Simmons, you messy bitch.
But I digress …
My app told me this week that because I was praised for being smart enough to pick up things like reading so quickly, I don’t think that I can ever be good at something if I don’t excel at it naturally. And that fucked me up.
It fucked me up real bad, y’all.
Why? Because for every excuse I made for not taking more steps than I needed to – for never really trying at anything – has been crafted to hide that truth.
The most effective of these lies is also the most obnoxious one: What’s the point of doing anything if I can be great at it?
What is that?! How can any of us do anything great if we don’t fail? How can we forge a path to success if we don’t walk? Why don’t I give myself an opportunity to be a student?
It’s time to find out.
Nine pounds down and a ripped psyche … this app is really worth the money.