A Cigarette, a Married Man, a Hamburger & a Cat: How Slips Can Make Us Stronger

I’d spent the previous three months rehabbing a sprained knee. I’m a personal trainer, and for those three months I went easy on it every session, every day. Then came that fateful Saturday morning when the knee was feeling good.

Me and Mini Me had a plan to walk all over town. Before we set out, she cocked head to the side and softly begged, “Mommy, carry me on back, peez?”

Aw. How cute.

I still needed to baby the knee for it to heal. Maybe I was feeling cavalier. Maybe I forgot I was injured. Maybe, at just that moment, I didn’t care. Maybe I wanted to please my kid. ‘OK, 30 lb toddler,’ I thought, ‘I’ll carry you over a mile on this beautiful Saturday morning. Come on up!’ (You can see where this is going, right?) ‘Lemme bounce you a few times to get you into the right position on my AAAUUGGGGHHH!!!!’

Blammo. Searing pain just west of my right kneecap. Cue the internal tsunami of self-hating epithets, swelling right up along with the stupid tendon in my stupid knee.

“You IDIOT!” “Mindless jerk.” “Show-off.” “Asshole.” “ARGH!”

A familiar tirade, if ugly and loathsome. The old, holed sweatpants of self-abuse.

And then, the moment of truth: I messed up. What do I do now?

If you’re anything like me, this moment is barely discernible, passes quickly, and has historically been met with, “Whatever, I already messed up. Eff it.”

And so, with the toddler still on my back, I began to walk.

Subtle variations on this theme comprise much of my life. I make a commitment, I do well for a while, I mess up, I hate on myself, and then I quit.

 “WERQ!”

But this time was different. That morning I took two very painful steps. Two out of maybe 5,000? Then something weird happened. I stopped. Suddenly the clouds parted, and a beautiful drag queen looked down on me from the heavens, “You just got self-love, Girl! WERQ!” I removed the toddler from my back, kissed her, went home, and iced the knee.

Dude.

At my core I’m a fatalistic-leaning self-saboteur (“I’m destined to fail, so screw it.”). Maybe you can relate: In the name of self-love or better health, you make a commitment. Then comes a moment of weakness or forgetfulness or plain old rebelliousness. Next thing you know, you’ve broken your commitment. You’re smoking a cigarette. You’re kissing a married man. You’re eating fast food. You’re standing on the scale. You’re rough-housing with your cat.

Don’t be fooled.

Whatever. We’re all fallible. We all experience temptation. We’re all swimming upstream when it comes to certain behavioral patterns. Sometimes, for whatever reason, the thing you know will harm you feels like the only thing that can possibly scratch the itch. And sometimes you just forget how important it is to not rough up the fuzzywuzzyloveydoveykittywitty kitty-cat because She Will Cut You.

Ultimately, the thought that precedes the unhealthy action is of no consequence when compared to the thoughts that follow. One mistake is exactly, precisely and will always be one mistake. A flash. A moment. Just one. But those of us practiced in the art of self-flagellation and -abuse and -sabotage blow that moment  up into what our warped minds accept as a logical reason to quit. You messed up, so what’s the point, right?

The point, Grasshopper, is that it’s one damn mistake. One. Think about it. Read it again. Say the word out loud. One. One time. One day. One bender. One ¹. It has no power that you don’t give it. It doesn’t negate or reverse all the work and effort and love that came before it. You’re still awesome. You’re still empowered. You’re still making progress. And now you’re even smarter, better armed with the facts about yourself and your triggers.

Strength is developed under resistance. The heavier the resistance, the stronger we become as we push against it. People who naturally travel the straight and narrow, who have no problem eating in moderation, who were born athletes, who never feel the need to attack the cat with love – these people are not strong – they’re privileged. Don’t mix them up. You and me, we’re destined to be strong. And our power doubles every time we love ourselves by recommitting after a slip. Remember that one mistake, one cigarette, one Royale with Cheese, one weigh-in, one well-meaning romp with the kitty, they’re all opportunities to learn, to reach deeper self-understanding and acceptance, to carry on, and to demonstrate, if only to yourself, the magnitude of your own power.