Tag

mental health

On (not) loving your body

I have had several conversations about bodies and body love (or lack thereof) lately, which usually means it’s somewhere out there in the collective consciousness of the world, which means we have to talk about it and address it so people aren’t just dealing with it alone.

Many, many people struggle with body image. That’s a broad statement. It could include anything from body dislike, disordered eating, eating disorder, not loving what they see in the mirror, trying to attain a different body, etc.

Both personally (friends/family) and in the wide stream media (professionals, campaigns, etc), body love is preached. “Love your body!” “Bodies come in every shape and size!” “There’s no weight limit on beauty!”

And that’s super well-meaning. The idea being, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself! You can just love your body, however it looks, whatever size it is.

Except what I’ve been hearing from others is that sometimes it’s not that easy – and sometimes those well-meaning pieces of advice turn into (unintended) additional pressures. Because here is what some people then feel:

I don’t love my body.  I hate how much time I devote to thinking about it and obsessing over it. AND I’m supposed to be loving it. I can’t even do that. I suck. I’ve tried for years and I just can’t love it.

The pressure to love their body actually makes things worse. Because they don’t, and they can’t, and then they judge themselves for it and feel bad. So rather than them feeling self-love, now they feel even more self-hate.

And I get it.

There’s a large movement to embrace your postpartum body. “Love your body!” “Your body did amazing things for you!” “How lucky are you to have grown a child in your body!”

Again, all from a good place. The idea being, you shouldn’t be expected to have the same body you had before you grew a baby and gave birth. The idea being, be gentle with yourself. You don’t have to “fix” your body. You can love your body now.

Except what about when you don’t?

3 months after I had Maya, I fit into all my clothes again. My body went right back to where it was, and that’s just a fact. When pregnant with Maggie, I gained more weight. Due to some issues and complications, I didn’t exercise. I had an emergency c-section that healed weird and left me with thick, ropey scar tissue that’s itchy and uncomfortable every day. Diastasis recti left me with a bulging stomach. Nearly a year later, I still don’t fit into most of my pants because I have more fat and skin on my stomach, thighs, and butt, and that’s just a fact.

And I don’t hate it. But I DON’T love it. I know people who love their soft skin, love their new size, love their scars and stretch marks, and that’s wonderful. It really is. But it’s also okay that I don’t love it.

I love my daughters, and I am thankful every second of every day that I grew them and birthed them, and I wouldn’t change anything that happened for anything. And I’m not obsessing 24/7, constantly counting calories, spending 100% of my mental energy on it. But. I wish I had my body back.

The thing is, that’s okay! I shouldn’t feel pressured to get my pre-partum body back, but I also shouldn’t feel pressure to love my new body. Neither serves me.

I guess what I am saying  is: maybe the goal doesn’t have to be body love. If we get to that state, that’s wonderful. But if we don’t, that’s okay. It’s like a ladder and there are different rungs. Maybe the highest rung is body love, and the lowest one is body hate. But there are rungs in the middle. Like I said to a few people last week, maybe it’s okay to be on the “eh” rung or the “take it or leave it” one or the “it’s okay” one. Maybe if we just accept that’s where we’re at, we wouldn’t be putting as much pressure on ourselves one way or the other and we wouldn’t constantly feel like we’re failing one way or the other.

(I also just feel the need to say – if you are dealing with significant mental health issues because of your body image or eating disordered behaviors, etc., this is something different – please, please don’t accept where you are, and don’t accept that has to be your life. It gets better, I promise. I just mean, you don’t have to get to the “I love my body so much!!!” point to be considered “healthy” and “okay” and “better.”)

Loving our body is great. But be gentle with yourself. If you’re on a different rung, as long as it’s not the very very bottom, it’s okay to be there. It feels horrible to have an unattainable goal. Make it more realistic.

I feel “decent” about my body, AND I wish it looked and felt the way it used to, AND that’s okay.

Acknowledging it

You know how some days you feel down and blah, and sometimes you’re okay with that, but sometimes it makes you panic, Ohmygod what if this feeling doesn’t pass, what if I never feel happy again, what if this is my new normal, I don’t know why I feel this way, the walls are closing in, I’m drowning, I’m regressing, all my hard work is undone…..and you go from 0 to 100 in about three milliseconds? (Or maybe you don’t know….but humor me).

Anyway, in processing that idea the other day, I was saying how cognitively I KNOW it always passes, I know that even months of a hard time don’t last forever, and therefore one day of feeling down doesn’t automatically equal a lifetime of it, but that it’s hard to remember in the moment. So one thing I said (half jokingly but also half totally serious) is that maybe I need a note on my phone that’s called “When I feel Crappy or Low”. Under that super creative title (…..) would be a few to-do items.

First is acknowledge what is contributing. Because as humans we can feel blah and we can feel down and we can feel upset for no reason, but as I am learning, there’s almost always one contributing factor. So first up is to figure out what the factors are. For me, there’s a list of “high-flyers” – events, people, thought patterns, or memories, that, more often than others, contribute. So first would be a checklist of those items (which would be more specific than this): Is it the weather? Is it a family member? Is it that grief? Is it that memory? Is it that anticipation of a change that’s coming?

I’ve found that almost always acknowledging it makes a difference. It instantly helps me feel back in control. It’s the flipped switch from Ohmygod I’m drowning, I’m out of control, everything is pressing on me, I’m infused with tidal waves of chaos to Oh. I’m in control. It’s just x, y, and z, and it’s not everything, and it’s not an internal malfunction, it’s an external rainshower that’s getting me a little wet but I’m fine, we’re fine, I’m fine.

Do you know that feeling I’m talking about? Kind of like in grad school when there was a huge paper to write or test to study for – it initially feels so big and so impossible to ever figure out. But as soon as a to-do list is made and it’s broken down, it’s manageable and you return to I can do this, this is doable.

The next thing to do, after acknowledging to myself what it is, is to focus on it more. This is so damn counter-intuitive. When something is upsetting, we want to ignore it, want to push it away, we don’t want to spend extra time and energy thinking about and talking about it. But – it works.

With the disclaimer that it often initially feels worse.

When you choose to focus in on it, whether it’s to write about it or talk about it or draw about it, or whatever it is for you, you might feel that tightness in your chest get tighter. The tears that you’ve held back might come. You might end up gasping for air, or you might feel the pain even stronger. Hold on. Because if you continue talking, continue writing, continue letting it out – you will then feel the release. You’ll feel your chest relax, you’ll notice the tears stop, you’ll notice you feel lighter, you’ll notice you feel better.

In the moment? So hard to do.

But maybe that’s what the reminder is for, that’s what the list is for.

Because it’s worked before. It’s been true before.

It applies now.

Okay or not okay?

“Are you doing okay?”
“Yes.”

“How are you?”
“Oh, I’m okay.”

What is okay?

For many of us, okay is a huge catch-all. Okay means that I am going about my day, doing great, hard work at my job, helping friends and loved ones and kids and co-workers and family members. I rarely (ever?) say, “No, I’m not okay.” For me, that statement only fits if there is an immediate crisis – a trauma, a death, a situation that warrants immediate attention. Because otherwise, of course I’m okay. I’m going about my days, functioning, doing great, so yes, I’m okay, why would I think otherwise?

I try to focus on, and embrace, and teach, that emotions have  shades, and situations have gradients, and it’s not all or nothing, there’s no black or white. However, a recent conversation led me to a personal realization: okay is a whole other continuum. Okay exists tantamount to other things.

I can be doing a kick-ass job at work, but not feel okay, if I’m anxious and panicky.

You can be maintaining your marriage, but not be okay, if you’re dealing with depression.

She can be beautifully parenting her children, but not be okay, if she’s fighting self-harm urges.

He can be getting all A’s in school, but not be okay, if he’s dealing with PTSD.

Do you see?

You can be successful in your life while you’re not okay. You can be in a healthy relationship and not be okay. You can smile and laugh at work and genuinely feel happy in those moments but also not be okay.

This gives us power. 

Saying “I’m am not okay” is scary. And maybe not always necessary to say out loud. But maybe we say it to ourselves. Because it’s not all or nothing. We don’t have to be in our beds, unable to move, unable to face the day, to “deserve” to say “I’m not okay.”

You deserve to say anything you want or need. You also deserve, you get, to not set a bar for yourself: I only deserve to ask for help if _____.

No.

You can always ask for help. You can always reach out. Outward appearances are deceiving. They deceive others and they help us deceive ourselves. Look inward. Deep, deep inward. Into the crevices and cracks in which you’ve been cramming thoughts, memories, feelings. Yes, you are fantastic at work. You have a wonderful family. You are loved. You are a role model. You take care of everyone. And, you might not be okay. And it’s time to face that. Embrace that. And get the support you need.

Because it’s okay to not be okay.

Things I know

I have a lot of little thoughts in my head. (I know, you’re shocked)
These are the things I know.


–Our education system is so broken. I don’t know how to fix it, and I wish I did.

–So much of life is about finding balance. Really about everything. Food, sleep, socialization, work, cleaning….it’s all a balance. Sometimes needing one extreme over the other. Sometimes needing the middle ground. I’ve been thinking so much about that word lately, as it comes up everywhere.

–Writing is therapeutic for me. It also makes me be brave. And Be Real.

–It is the other person’s job to tell me if he/she is upset with me. It is NOT my job to be a mind reader and be able to guess. (*credit to this one is my wonderful, dear friend, T. I cling to this statement when I’m in an anxious or spinny place)

–Blame and anger can be separate equations. (*Also from T. She is very very wise)

–Trauma comes in a lot of different forms. Past experiences that seemed unimportant at the time might have had a lasting impact. You will figure it out and deal with it when life is ready for you to. You get to NOT second guess your experiences.

–We are all lovable.

–Rain can sometimes be soothing and sometimes be sad.

–This will not break me. (Whatever “this” is. Whoever “me” is. It will not break you.) (*Ok, this is also from T. I probably should just write an entire post about all her wise words.)

–People deal with so many things. Look beyond the stereotypes. You can suffer from depression and still be able to get out of bed. You can have anxiety yet get through a day calmly. You can struggle with your body image yet be an “average” weight. You can have a learning disability yet do great in your classes. You can have ADHD and not get up from the table and run around every five minutes. You can be a victim of sexual assault without being held at gunpoint by a stranger in a park at night. You can be a lesbian and love makeup and dresses. The world would be a better place if we saw things for what they truly are – a continuum, a spectrum, a myriad of people and examples, not a one-size-fits-all universe.


What do you know?

 

Eating Disorders + Sensitivity

I have been diving headfirst into the incredible world of quantum physics, of understanding why “intuition” isn’t some idealistic, pretend, mystical thing, but it exists, for scientific reasons. I’ve been learning about my own sensitivities, how physicists can now explain how and why I feel the feelings, worries, thoughts, of others. My whole life I thought it was just me, just a weird thing. Now, quantum physics has been born, and BOOM, there’s an explanation for why I am the way I am. And I cannot even tell you how validating it is. I could say so much on the subject, there’s so much I want to talk about. But not yet.

Right now, I’m diving into another piece of the puzzle. Eating disorders. In the work I’ve been doing with intuition, quantum physics, quantum medicine, etc., eating disorders are still in the back of my mind. How do they fit into this all? Besides the cultural component and the genetic component, where are they coming from?

And I’m wondering. Maybe it fits into all of this.

So what I am asking of you, is to please, PLEASE answer the following questions. You can just answer them in the comments section, anonymously or not. I think I may be onto something and I’m very excited. But I can’t do anything about it without data, however informal it may be. (Yes, I am only doing this for my own benefit. It’s not a research study, it’s not documented. But sometimes, we just need self-validation, you know?)

Here are the questions:

1. Have you ever had an eating disorder? (Yes/no/not sure/etc.)

2. Would you consider yourself “intuitive” or “sensitive?” (Do you feel others emotions, feelings, and worries just as they are feeling them, do you feel emotions super strongly, does music/nature/art move you in ways that they don’t seem to move others, do you sometimes think you know what is going to happen or what a person is thinking, do you experience ‘deja vu’ often, etc.)

3. If yes to both questions: how, if at all, do you think that your sensitivities/intuition/etc. might have been linked to your eating disorder — either the development of it, or the return to it, or the perpetuation of it?

That’s it. One-word answers are fine, any information is fine. Please pass it along, please get the info out there! I SO appreciate it.

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Everyone is blogging about Newtown, and while I love reading all the blog posts, I know that many people have no desire to read the same thing over and over again. So, let me cut to the chase.

I am hearing, from so many people on the news, via blogs, in real life, “It’s so awful,” and “Something needs to change.” Yes. I agree. COMPLETELY. However, it’s starting to frustrate me. These people aren’t frustrating me. Their desire for change isn’t frustrating me. The whole situation, the whole world, the whole everything is what’s frustrating to me. Because change isn’t happening. And people are all talk, but on a larger scale, nothing is happening. That statement, I realize, will rub a lot of people the wrong way. So please know I am not saying that I don’t recognize the bravery and the motivation and the determination of so many people.

And co-workers and loved ones, who are only doing their very best to help, are seeing these events totally destroy me, and are saying things like, ” This is why we have to life every day to its fullest,” or “You need to stop thinking about it, it’ll keep upsetting you.” And that’s really frustrating, too. Because is the solution honestly to not think about it? Or just go about our lives hoping we continue to be as fortunate as we are? That’s part of the problem! That people push hard thoughts and feelings and memories away in the hopes that they will disappear. But they don’t. And they come back stronger than ever.

It’s not to say that there shouldn’t be a balance. All of the above comments and statements are legitimate and necessary. It’s just that we need that balance. Between saying and doing. Between acknowledging and changing.

Does this make sense at all, to anyone? Or do I just sound like a heartless human being? (Aka my biggest fear. In the world. That if I speak my mind, people won’t understand what I mean, and they’ll think I’m insensitive.)