Carolina Perez Sanz

I used to say that I’d acquired discipline through the ballet classes I took from 5 to 14, because my parents were more on the laissez-faire side.

But what I acquired was the habit of self-punishment. Self-torture. Self-hatred.

The ballet teacher once said we all needed to lose 10 pounds.

I translated that (very inappropriate) remark into “I can never have a pound of excess fat in my body.”

Which then morphed into, “I can only eat things that won’t make me fat.”

Which became, “I’m afraid to eat cake/pastries/cookies. And if and when I give in and do eat them, I feel bad, dirty, sloppy. So I self-punish and call myself names.”

Similar thoughts go through my mind whenever:

• I don’t run or go to the gym four times in a given week
• I don’t make the amount of money I think I should be making
• I drink coffee before 120 minutes have passed since waking up
• I don’t write as many words in a day as I told myself I should write
• …

I’ve been working on finding the line between self-discipline and internal dictatorship, but I’ll admit: it’s not easy.

How have you found self-discipline without falling into internal dictatorship?

Love (and self-love),

Carolina