“We don’t rise to the level of our goals, we fall to the level of our systems.” It was when I was pulling weeds at Abalone Cove for Palos Verdes Land Conservancy that I heard this quote.
It was from a podcast with James Clear, a man who got his face smashed in with a baseball bat in high school and had to re-learn the basic mechanics of daily living. He learned how to put consistency over intensity and eradicate the idea of ‘goals’ with systems. He spoke as to how once you reach your ‘goal’ you stop living it. It disappears. It is not until you make choices that uphold a system of living that you transform into the type of person you’d like to become.
Here’s another one: “Each action you take is a vote for the type of person you’d like to become.”
“Your current habits are perfectly designed to produce your current circumstances.” Simple. No childhood victim story. Fresh start. So I rid my home of the food with addictive substances. Knowing that I am a Highly Sensitive Person, I drew a direct line between my escapism, constant anxiety, and lazy work ethic to the type of food I was eating. I would look forward to it like it was the only thing I lived for. And those habits produced a terrible digestive tract, a bloated tummy, and cranky Emily. That was the moment I decided to turn it around.
My new habits need to be Visible, Doable, and Attractive.
So, I put “walking” on my planner. And instead of using my body as a tool for manipulation or punishment, instead, it is my self-care time. It is what makes me feel good. It is what makes me connect with myself. I noticed I had connected movement with this narrative that (a) avoid it at all costs, or (b) be miserable while doing it because obviously I am punishing myself. That is what I was told, after all, by treatment center after treatment center, therapist after therapist.
But what’s different about this set of habits is that they are based on the foundation of listening to my body. I don’t follow a system or a regimen that will “fix it all”- not only because it doesn’t exist, but also because it’s not sustainable. Everything about my previous habits prioritized intensity over consistency. It was all impulsive and a matter of how fat I felt that day. Puh-leez. This way, I listen to what my body wants. Usually, by 3 pm, I am antsy and ready to move. Every day. It just so happens, then, that I move my body at 3 pm. Every day. Not because some home magazine told me to do so or because I want to rid of my love handles. But because I am taking the necessary time to care for and therefore love myself. AND GUESS WHAT? Today, the gods of the neighborhood rained down upon me. A sweet black mama called to me from across the street, “hello, how you doin’?!” I responded that I was well and she had cute little ones with her. “Oh thank you, do you have any?” I said not yet and she said “that’s why you look so good, I wanna look like you!” I told her, “Mama, you got a body that provides! You are BEAUTIFUL!” I am under the impression that ALL women should lift each other up… that is only when my anxiety dissipates to a level where I can practice what I preach. She proceeded to tell me that I must live my life- I have the rest of my days to have kids. I told her that I’m not financially secure enough for my own cats right now, so I had no choice. She placed her 10-month-old (named Cash) down on the street, “watch what this one can do” she said as he waddled over to me in the middle of the street with his arms stretched wide. At 10 months! I cooed and ahhhed as she pleased. Mama was beyond tickled. I learned the taller one’s name: Carrington. He had a bandaid across his forehead and looked at me out of the corner of his eye like, “why is my mama talkin’ to some white lady in the middle of the street? She cray-cray. People like this kill people like me.” I told him that I was pleased to meet him and he didn’t budge. Smart boy.
“This is Mama’s new friend, Carrington! She’s your friend now, too!” He still didn’t budge. “My name is Emily,” I tried a bit more. “Emily said she’s gonna bring you some chocolate!” Mama pressed on. Oof she persistent. He still didn’t move. The boy was smarter than I thought! I promised to bring him my favorite chocolate: the kind with the caramel in the middle. He cracked a half-smile. I felt like I won the lotto.
Mama told me her name was Blu and that she moved here 5 years ago. “We moved from Compton, and I just couldn’t let him see the violence I saw. I said, ‘that’s it, I’m getting’ my babies outta here!’ and we moved to Redondo Beach. That’s my winduh right there.” Blu pointed to a rundown second-story window with the shades drawn.
“Take down my number, sweetheart, and we’ll get together.”
I told her she was a brave and smart mama, and was delighted to have a friend. I told her I don’t have many around here, which is part true, but I am more inclined to paint myself a loner than actuality. Friendships just take energy. And work. And I’m lazy.
Buh.
She told me my boyfriend and I can come over and ‘she’ll take care of us.’ “Do y’all drink?” “oh YEAH!” I purported without even batting an eye. “What about weeeeed?” she half-whispered. It was only then that I realized we were declaring this directly over the kiddos. “Yes!” I responded eagerly. Then I thought for a moment. “Well, not James. He gets all paranoid and such. But I do!” “Girl, same with my boo!” Blu responded. “But it’s okay, we’ll do our thing.” “We’ll take care of each other,” I assured, not remembering any time weed took care of any of my problems. This addiction personality is laid on thick. “Thank you for making my day, I’m inspired by this,” I told her. “Girl, you come by anytime!” I made sure to tell myself that I will.
And I better bring chocolate.
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