Kimberlee K.

In a time when eating was not an enjoyable, sustaining activity, but one that seemed to pose a threat, offer a test, and promise to destroy the goal I believed was most important—being thin—I used to list what I ate out loud.

Every day, usually near the end of the day, I would pretend I was on a talk show or chatting with a friend/doctor/anyone who, for whatever reason, would ask what I’d eaten that day. Because I was convinced this would happen, that everyone was secretly wondering, that everyone was on the verge of testing me, and I wanted to pass the test.

I not only wanted the list to be short, but “good.” I wanted it to be a list that someone would nod at, impressed, assured that I was doing everything I could to achieve that ever present, most important goal: being thin.

As a person who loves lists, this was a natural tendency, but it wasn’t fun. It wasn’t like a to-do list, bucket list, or yearly list of goals. It wasn’t something motivating, exciting, or filled with opportunity and hope. Like stepping on a scale, this list became something I let dictate how I felt. I let it determine if I had a “good day” or perhaps just a “good enough” day.

It tricked me, for a really long time, into thinking it was a healthy thing to do. That like other lists, it was there to keep me organized, get me motivated, track progress, and offer assistance, when really it was just to there to punish me and warp my sense of self.

Do you have a list like this? Something you’ve convinced yourself is helping you, but might just be leading you in circles, spiraling you into shame any chance it gets?

I think lists based too far in the future can do this. Lists that blind us from the progress we’ve made and focus on the things we haven’t done.

I also think outdated lists can do this. Lists we made years ago and are too prideful to admit our interests and/or abilities have changed. We spiral in the shame of missed opportunities, open doors that are now closed, youth that is now gone, regardless of whether we actually want to do those things anymore, because now we can’t and that implies we’ve let younger versions of ourselves down.

Lists truly can help and hurt. They can cut through the chaos like a machete in the wilderness, showing us a path forward, and they can add to the noise, giving volume to yet another voice saying, you’re doing it all wrong!!!

So I am trying to take back lists.

To make them all good, helpful, motivating.

And recently I’ve returned to that habit of listing things out loud, but this time for things I have done. Things I’ve accomplished, things I can be proud of.

When I’m nervous I didn’t take full advantage of a Saturday, when anxiety sits on top of me like a stone, when a quiet drive home from a friend’s house turns up the volume of comparison, when I start to panic and am grasping for control and am tempted to fall back into a bad habit, I flip that habit on its head.

Instead of a food list, I make done list:

I woke up this morning after a good night’s sleep.

I made myself breakfast and read a little bit of my book.

I went for a walk, I took a nap, I ate lunch.

I watched a movie, I wrote a blog post.

I texted a friend, I took out the trash.

.

I make an accomplished list:

I graduated high school and got a Bachelor’s degree.

I climbed Mt. Whitney.

I ran a marathon.

I moved into my own apartment.

I started a blog—and now I have two!

.

I make an I have and I am list:

I have a place to live.

I have a job.

I have a loving family and kind friends.

I am healthy.

I am creative.

I am kind and funny and curious.

I am alive.

Sometimes the lists are short, some days they are harder to make than others.

But they are lists that help, not hurt. They are lists that comfort, not criticize. They are lists that celebrate, not shame.

It’s okay to want to be better, to strive for more, to push our boundaries, but there is a point when lists shift from aspirational to disparaging—no longer telling you what you could be, and instead shaming you for what you can’t be, wont’ be, or have never been.

And I don’t want to make lists like that anymore.

So here’s to the good lists. The ones that point out how far we’ve come, that help our chores get done, that declutter a complicated day, that show us what we already have to be grateful for. Those are the lists worth making.