It's Christmas Eve, and I've already worked out; it's my fourth time this week.
For as wonderful and loving as my parents are, there's one statement they don't share often: "I'm proud of you." That's not to say, of course, that I don't believe they are. I know it. They've always encouraged and supported me, and I couldn't be more grateful. But I also believe that the lack of frequency in the reiteration of the fact affected me. It drove me to be self-motivated and to seek self-satisfaction. I cannot tell you how many times I virtually pat myself on the back each day.
So when I tell you that this morning I worked out for the fourth time this week, I say it with pride. I've formally exercised more in this past month than I did the entire summer. Being active is my thing, but going to the gym, running on a daily basis, frequenting fitness classes to the point at which I'd become recognizable, isn't necessarily. To be honest, I wanted to get into better shape mostly because I knew I'd be on the beach come this year's end. I wanted to feel confident in how I looked inside and out. And in doing so, I rediscovered mi confianza.
It's probably the greatest gift I could've given myself this year. Because, at the end of the day, it really doesn't matter how many people tell you how proud they are of you, or how great of a job you're doing, or (my favorite, really) a simple "well done." What's important is that you trust in how ridiculously capable you are and how much you are already achieving. Success is all relative. It starts and ends with you.Regardless of whether or not you celebrate, have the merry Christmas you deserve.
