March 2012

When Mara reached out to me to participate in this year’s Teen Week, I had no idea what I’d say. None of the subjects spoke to me…my teenage years seemed too far in the past, even though last year’s letter to my teen self came so very easily.

How, in the course of just one year between ages 48 and 49, could I go from not only remembering – but also relating to – the pain of adolescence to having it be a foggy memory? A senior moment? Or maybe there’s a whole lot of growing up that has taken place since then. There’s a surprise for you…you never stop growing up!

And then I remembered something.

One day, back when I was relatively new to Facebook, I reached out to a high school classmate, a woman who had been a couple of classes behind me, and asked about her brother, who had been in my class (1980). He had an intense crush on me in sixth grade and had once drawn a beautiful heart with our initials in it and stuck it with tape to my locker. I don’t think we ever spoke two words to each other.

In high school our paths didn’t cross much but I remember thinking that he was a bit odd…and awkward. He was also a great artist. Turns out, he died when he was 35 of a cardiopulmonary embolism brought on by cancer he had no idea he had. His sister also told me that he’d had been diagnosed with schizophrenia while in high school.

At one point, as she I and compared stories about our teenage years, our families, the pain, the dysfunction, and how it felt back then, she responded: “The more I communicate with people from town, the more tragedy I find out. Was it something in the water there for God sakes?”

And I thought to myself…no, nothing in the water, it was just life. Everyone was going through the same stuff and yet we all felt so alone.

Since then I’ve compared notes with many of my fellow classmates…some of whom were close friends, others who were not. One thing on which pretty much everyone agrees, is that adolescence sucks.

The girls all felt “fat, ugly, insecure, and awkward,” even the girls who, on the outside, appeared to be the opposite of those things, and even the girls who were bullies. There were boys were “out of control” and had “discipline problems.” There were boys who, outwardly, were “fine,” but acted out in other ways.

It was a time when getting pregnant was an embarrassing matter and no one had ever heard of ADHD or eating disorders (although anorexia nervosa and bulimia were just starting to be talked about, but were very much misunderstood). It was a time when no one knew that so-and-so’s parents had gotten divorced, or that one’s mother had an affair, or this one’s father beat their mother, or that one’s brother was on drugs. There was so much shame and secrecy, which made it all ten times worse.

Nothing has really changed, has it. Except that we’re much more aware of these issues, and we talk about them a lot more. That’s good.

But there are a whole new set of pressures and variables, from the massive amounts of “information” and images to which we have access, to the way it is communicated and accessed. Bullying seems to have reached epidemic proportions…or maybe it’s just talked about a lot more?

Being a teen generally sucks. It always has and it probably always will. Whether you’re the all-star jock, the beauty queen, the bully, the “smart” one, or the loner. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s impossible to get through one’s teen years (and beyond) unscathed…without hating one’s body/appearance, without feeling insecure and awkward.

My point isn’t to tell you that it’s all pointless…that you might as well suck it up and give up any hope of a “normal,” (whatever that is) happy life full of potential and contentment.

The point is to tell you that the suckiness is temporary.

Between the hormonal changes and brain rewiring that happens in adolescence, the suckiness of adolescence is a given, but it’s not permanent. The key to getting through it is to understand that. To know that even when it feels hopeless (and it will) your feelings are not facts and they can not destroy you.

There will be adults in your life who will try to protect you – to make it all better, to keep you from feeling that horrid suckiness, but they can’t. And what they don’t realize is that it’s IN that pain and suckiness that your sense of self will take root and start to grow. And if they overprotect or overcontrol you, it will take longer. There is one thing I know for sure: nothing is better than coming out on the other side of adolescence having overcome the suckiness…and it’s given. It WILL happen. And the good news is that once you know what it feels like, you’ll be able to do it again and again. That’s where the victory lies…not in never feeling the suckiness, but in being able to overcome it sooner.

“The unending paradox is that we do learn through pain.” ― Madeleine L’Engle

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In other words, random thoughts, observations, and stuff that caught my eye:

Possible Solutions:

1) Solve the problem

2) Change your emotional reaction to the problem

3) Tolerate the problem

4) Stay miserable

5) Make things worse.

Tao of the Giraffe

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This is pretty much my response to anyone who is struggling with binge eating:

Once you’re aware (that you’re a binge eater)…you can’t not be aware. Next time, you might wait a little longer, you may eat a little less, or not, but you will think about it again, and you will learn something again, and you will make progress. There isn’t a switch that gets flipped…it’s a long, drawn-out (damn it) process. Being a neutral yet compassionate observer of yourself is the way to go.

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And speaking of binge eating and awareness, a recent Scientific American article, The Cognitive Roots Of Binge Eating, suggests that Binge Eating Disorder is connected to attention deficits and poor self-awareness. I have found that the more self-aware I become (and much of that self-awareness came though writing this blog), the less I binge eat. I am also very much aware that my tendency towards distraction doesn’t help matters.

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I really love what Annabel (Feed Me I’m Cranky) has been writing lately, especially this: A Case Against Passion (about the current “war on obesity”).

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Many of us learned to censor our desires at a young age. Perhaps we were shamed for wanting so much, for wanting the “wrong” things, or for not being the quiet, grateful, undemanding children our parents wanted. If we believe that our desires are bad, selfish, or irrelevant, we will repress the awareness of the things that really make us happy. We won’t admit desires that might rock the boat and make us the target of criticism or anger. All too often, we replace our true desires with the desire to please or to fit in, and do whatever will win us approval. ~ The Hunger for Ecstasy, Jalaja Bonheim

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About a month ago I wrote an update on my efforts to reduce and/or eliminate gluten and dairy from my diet.  I wrote: “I’ve also stopped eating dairy (except Greek yogurt, which doesn’t seem to bother me).” Well, Greek yogurt DOES bother me. I really wanted for it not to, but now that I haven’t had it for a week, I have proof that it was the yogurt wreaking havoc on my digestive system. So THIS is what’s it like…!

As for gluten, I haven’t eliminated it completely, but I like how I feel when I don’t eat it often.

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From the “science backing up the woo woo” files:

The Brain On Love

“A relatively new field, called interpersonal neurobiology, draws its vigor from one of the great discoveries of our era: that the brain is constantly rewiring itself based on daily life. In the end, what we pay the most attention to defines us. How you choose to spend the irreplaceable hours of your life literally transforms you.”

Exactly.

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Note: What follows is a chapter (Oh The Stories I have Told) from my book, AFTER (the before & after): a real life story about weight loss, weight gain, and weightlessness through total acceptance. I was reminded of it when a friend said: “I have recently noticed something about myself. The more I just truly accept who I am, and that I have a right to my opinions, my choices, my life, I am losing the need to embellish stories, or make excuses, or feel awkward and stupid. I am truly starting to live more authentically and it all started to happen without me forcing myself to do anything. I am also much kinder and less judgemental about others journey because I have forgiven myself for being so hard on me.” Writing this chapter and now sharing it here is an act of vulnerability for me.

I used to tell stories – sometimes based on the truth (but embellished) and other times outright lies. Some of these lies were funny and relatively benign – “I was born on an airplane” – but other times they were destructive, not at all funny – “I was raped.” And everything in between.

I’m not sure when I started telling stories but I continued up until about 10 years ago. I understand now why I told them…I thought they would make me more attractive, funny, interesting, tragic, relatable, dramatic, lovable.

I’ve come clean with the most important people in my life about these lies, so this isn’t a confession. And just so you know I haven’t lied or embellished the truth in this book. What I have done is told my version of stories. We all do that.

Some recent experiences have me reflecting on the phenomenon. I know I’ve heard this before…it’s not a new concept, but let me lay it out for you the way I understand it:

There’s what happened.

Then there’s the story I tell about what happened.

And finally there’s the story I tell about what it means that it happened, and how I feel about it.

I am not saying that the stories anyone tells about what happened, or about how they feel about what happened, are lies…but that they are perceptions and not complete, objective “reality.”

So yeah, I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and I thought it was worth exploring here because I realize that it’s the stories I tell about what happened and what they mean, that weigh me down.

For example, there’s the story of my first marriage. I married a guy from Brazil…a guy I met in a bar just four months prior to marrying. He needed a Green Card. I had convinced myself that he really loved me even though, if I am really honest, I knew he didn’t. The marriage was sham on all levels. I felt forced to divorce him because he was not what I considered a willing participant in the marriage. I was very angry but I portrayed myself as a victim and told anyone who would listen that he took complete and total advantage of me, leaving me heartbroken, in debt…and feeling like an utter fool.

I declared bankruptcy a few years after my divorce and my story is that I was forced to because of the “tax burden” he left for me. That’s partially the truth, but the bigger part of the truth is that I spent more money that I was making.

Then there’s the story about why I was so desperate and lacking self-esteem that I would enter in to such a marriage in the first place. Was my story “because my parents got divorced when I was three”? Or how about, “I grew up in a dysfunctional family”? Or maybe just because?? Maybe that’s just the way it was supposed to work out for me.

Another example: someone claimed to have slept with a former boyfriend of mine (after we had broken up), even though said former boyfriend said it never happened. The story I told after the fact was designed, not to elicit sympathy for me, but to elicit disgust for the someone…to “build my case” against that person.

And another: I was out of the country just before 9/11 and arrived at JFK Airport at 9/9. On the morning of 9/11, Tim had to fly to Virginia for work. He flew out of Providence, RI, into Reagan National in Washington, DC, where he made a connecting flight to Norfolk, just 15 minutes before the Pentagon was hit. He was in the air while planes were crashing into the World Trade Center. Even though what was happening scared the crap out of me, I knew he was okay. But in the days, months, and for several years afterwards, when I told the story, I would tell it in a more evocative way. It was the truth, but it became more dramatic in the telling than it actually was.

And what about the rape story? That’s a doozy. I had sex for the first time at a pretty young age but to this day I do not count it as losing my virginity and I choose not to reveal why in order to protect the innocent. Afterwards I thought I might be pregnant so I made up a rather unlikely story about being raped by a faceless, nameless, unrecognizable man, just in case. What’s ironic is that I didn’t tell anyone the rape story until well after I knew that I wasn’t pregnant. I didn’t “need” the story, but I “used” it. And what’s destructive about the story is that I often concluded it by saying that it (the rape) didn’t affect me or damage me in any way.

I could go on and on, but you get the picture. These are the stories I’ve told myself and others…stories that made me feel better about myself, stories that helped me feel right, stories that helped me feel like I was getting revenge. I got off on these stories. They gave me an out and allowed me to abdicate responsibility.

What I see is that I made a whole series of decisions, then came up with stories and lies to make myself feel better, but which really led to a lot of physical, emotional, and mental heaviness. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that these stories took me farther away from who I really am. And the farther I got, the “heavier” I got.

As I said, anyone who knows me really well already knows the truth and it’s been quite a while since I’ve even felt the need to tell an outright lie. But I recognize that I’m still telling stories about what happened…mostly in an effort to understand.

“Whenever two people meet, there are really six people present. There is each man as he sees himself, each man as the other person sees him, and each man as he really is.” ~ William James, pragmatist, philosopher, and psychologist (1842 – 1910)

This whole weight loss thing has turned into my quest to figure out how to bring “who I really am” as close as possible to “how I see myself” and to “how others see me.”

“Honest” is way up there on the list.

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Once again, Brené Brown hits it out of the park with her most recent TED talk, Listening To Shame. If you have a partner, watch this with him or her.

The key points from Brené’s talk:

Vulnerability is not weakness, it is the most accurate measurement of courage we have. The myth that it is a weakness is profoundly dangerous.

Vulnerability = emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty…

AND

Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.

Shame is the swampland of the soul. The core of rot. It’s important to visit the swamp and to look carefully at the core of rot. This doesn’t mean we stay there and stare forever.

Shame drives two big tapes in our minds: “never good enough” and, if you can’t it talk out of that one, “who do you think you are?”

Shame, however, is not guilt. Shame is a focus on self, guilt is a focus on behavior.

Shame = “I am bad. I am a mistake.” Guilt = “I did something bad. I made a mistake.”

Shame is highly, highly correlated with addiction, depression, violence, aggression, bullying, suicide, and eating disorders. Guilt is inversely correlated to those things.

In women, shame comes from: do it all, do it perfectly, and never let them see you sweat. Shame for women is a web of unattainable, conflicting, competing expectations about who we’re supposed to be. Research shows that in this country, what women need to do in order to conform to female norms is to be nice, thin, modest, and to use our resources for appearance.

For men, one thing only: do not be perceived as weak.

Research shows that in this country, what women need to do in order to conform to female norms is to be nice, thin, modest, and to use our resources for appearance. Men need to show emotional control at all times, exhibit primacy at work, pursue status, and violence.

The antidote to shame is empathy. Shame needs three things to grow: secrecy, silence, and judgment. Douse shame with empathy and it can not survive.

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