#Unsettled

I did not work out today. Or yesterday. In fact, I slept in. It’s becoming a habit.

I’ve been telling myself I’m “listening to my body.” But after days of this narrative, my body has begun to revolt. The normal, healthy blood flow stays stagnant, and things are beginning to hurt.

So, am I really listening to my body? Or is it just a convenient lie I tell myself to avoid the work?

It’s an excuse. Deep down, I know it. We all live on these invisible hamster wheels, repeating cycles, and when I lie to myself and promise, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” I’m causing more harm than good.

But this morning, as I sat with that minor failure, it got my mind working (at least something is working). I started thinking about the other places in our lives where we make excuses. Where does the line between a hard reality and a simple cop-out begin to blur?

Welcome to the gray area.

My husband and I have this discussion all the time. He is a professional athlete by trade, which means his world has always been fiercely black-and-white. You either do the workout, or you don’t. You win, or you lose. There is very little room for interpretation in a box score.

Most of my male friends operate in that same manner. My women friends, however, tend to see the endless, swirling shades of gray.

Sometimes my husband and I actually get into disagreements over it. I have to physically remind him: “Not everybody is built like you.” He will usually take a step back and agree with me—though, to be fair, I never quite know if he’s genuinely evolving his perspective or if he’s just trying to end the conversation so we can move on.

But it’s a vital question: How much of what we call an “excuse” is actually just someone else’s heavy reality?

I was recently on a short road trip with a couple of girlfriends. One of my travel companions did not have an ideal childhood, and as a result, she has determined to be completely mad at the world.

I am incredibly empathetic to her upbringing. I firmly believe that the trauma and environments of our early lives shape the architecture of who we become. But as I’ve touched on before, you can only play the victim card for so long. Eventually, that card expires. It becomes your sole responsibility to decide what kind of adult you want to be.

She is a grown woman with the agency to change her life. So, from the outside, it looks black-and-white. Just choose better.

But is it really that simple?

Nobody knows the internal firing squad happening inside someone else’s head. We don’t know how they perceive the world, or what generational ghosts follow them around. We love to repeat clichés like, “Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes,” yet we remain aggressively quick to judge what happens behind closed doors.

Even me. I try my absolute best not to judge, but let’s be honest: it’s impossible. We all do it to some degree. The only difference is whether or not we are brave enough to own it.

I’ll own it. I like to pretend my inner circle is a “no-judgment zone,” but I form opinions. If you ask for my advice, you’re going to get my unfiltered perspective. Sometimes it comes out sounding judgey; sometimes it doesn’t.

For instance, I have a girlfriend who has dragged herself through a brutal, agonizing divorce that lasted for years. She is actively trying to pick up the shattered pieces of her life. I have never been in her shoes. I know how I am built—I am a perfectionist who would simply compartmentalize the trauma, lock it in a drawer, and march forward.

But I only met the version of her that was trapped in a miserable marriage and its aftermath. Have I questioned some of her messy choices? Absolutely.

But who am I to judge? I haven’t lived a sainted life.

She is making a conscious effort every single day to become a better human, but sometimes her demons drag her back down. That isn’t an excuse. It is the literal, exhausting reality of her world. And I am confident that with the right support system, she will eventually arrive exactly where she wants to be—mentally and physically.

It is within those beautiful, uncomfortable layers of gray where we actually grow.

When we aren’t entirely certain of one thing or another, we are forced to be human. We question things. We get uncomfortable. And the uncomfortable is the only place where transformation happens.

Which brings me back to the mirror. I am truly the only person who can judge me without an ounce of guilt. And lately, I’ve been judging myself harshly.

For the past couple of years, I’ve been dealing with an injury that has restricted me from being as physically active as I used to be. The rehab is painful, and it’s slow.

But I know I have to stop using that pain as a permanent shield. I refuse to let my current excuse freeze into a permanent reality where I am no longer the vibrant, active person I want to be.

We have to become comfortable living in the gray. We have to remain fluid. Because life is never as simple as black and white—and the moment you stop moving, the gray area hardens into concrete.

What excuses are you telling yourself that are preventing you from becoming the best version of yourself?