Trust Me, I’m Trying Hard Enough

Prozac--Photo courtesy of Wikimedia commons

I recently read a blog post that I liked about weight struggles, Oprah, and self-acceptance, and she said stuff like this:

…every day that jackass science comes up with another possible reason for the so-called “epidemic” America, and almost every other country, is facing. It’s because of portion sizes. It’s because of processed foods. It’s because of genetically modified wheat. It’s because of our microbiomes. It’s because of stress and cortisol. It’s because of a virus. It’s because of insulin resistance. It’s because we no longer use scythes to harvest rye. … Maybe someday they will figure out the reason for it, but I do know the reason isn’t not trying hard enough.

So I shared this article on Facebook and added this comment:

Since I’ve been on the antianxiety meds, I’ve put on a few pounds that don’t seem to want to leave, even when I’m “super-vigilant.” So fuck it, it’s better than panic attacks. And maybe, at 46, a 21-year-old body is just not practical. Not what’s needed. Maybe, it’s age appropriate. Like these silver hairs I’m spotting.

Normally, I might get a few likes, and that’s that. But since I brought up the antianxiety medication, I got a very interesting response from a few of my friends—and I love you, I really do. With one exception, my friends expressed concern and hopes that I was going to be okay. Why? I had brought mental illness into play. Now, I have blogged about my journey with anxiety here and here, but not everyone reads what I write, and that’s okay. But I didn’t think I was dropping a bomb. I was just talking about the truth of my life like I always do.

On the one hand, I appreciate the concern. Aww, thanks guys! I love you back. On the other hand, I was more than a little surprised. Some friends pointed out that there are natural alternatives that I should try. But I had tried them. I do exercise—quite a lot! I do eat well. I do things that I love, like gardening, painting, writing, and Taekwondo. It seemed, from some of my friends’ points of view, that I was depressed and alternating eating bon bons and pharmaceuticals on the couch all day. Okay, that’s over the top, but it kind of felt that way. (And I STILL LOVE YOU for worrying about me.)

I’m Not Falling Apart

My friends know that I prefer natural alternatives, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. I acknowledge that Big Pharma sometimes embodies Darth Vader, but you know, it has its Luke Skywalker side, too. Sometimes I need antibiotics. Without them, I know I’d be dead. I also need a thyroid medication. Without it, my children would not be here. (Thyroid storms can cause you to lose pregnancies.) Sometimes I have to take a fucking pill. And it doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped trying. On the contrary, it means I’m getting better.

It’s kind of unfortunate that my mental health issue—anxiety and panic attacks—found relief in a pill that causes a difficult side-effect for women:  weight gain. It’s not a lot of gain, but enough to tell a difference and to force me to buy new jeans. I don’t view it as a disastrous amount (20-25 pounds). I don’t believe I am less beautiful or less healthy because of it. I’m still doing all the stuff I was doing before. It’s just that now I’m feeling emotionally better when I do it.

I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t love to drop the extra weight, because I would. And I pay pretty close attention to what I put in my mouth without being a super-control freak about it. (Control-freakishness is a trait I’ve been working to overcome, after all.) In short, I’m doing everything humanly possible to remain healthy, and it is up to me to accept myself however I am and whatever I weigh. The point is to be happy and fulfilled. I feel happy and fulfilled. The little pink pills help. This is not a problem to overcome.

Well-Meaning Judgments

It is human to jump to conclusions. A mental health diagnosis of any kind means that people are going to form a judgment about it. Anxiety, depression, pull yourself out of it! Come on! Bipolar disorder, schizophrenia—some people don’t even believe that these things exist. Brain chemistry is not something you can think yourself into changing. And hormones? When a woman enters perimenopause, she is probably going to change. She may become more anxious, moody, depressed, or none of these things. But it happens more often than you’d think. It happened to me.

For years, I had been fighting myself. I was moody, and I didn’t realize that my anxiety was making me short-tempered. It wasn’t some horrible character flaw that I could control if I were a decent person. I was anxious. And when my anxiety reached a pinnacle, I could no longer cope.

I love my medication. It gave me back to me. Many people suffer without medication. My wife, Ahnna, used to help homeless people who qualified get their disability benefits so they could be housed. One of her most memorable cases was “Jake,” who was schizophrenic. Like most schizophrenics, Jake was highly intelligent but completely unable to cope with our reality without medication.

When Ahnna met Jake, he stank because he was covered in his own shit, on purpose. It was to keep the evil things away. He rarely talked to anyone. He told her she had the mark of the devil on her head. Eventually, with the help of his mother and a hard-won signature from him, she was able to get him on disability. Jake now lives in a group home and is medicated. When he showed up at her office some time later to thank her, she barely recognized him as the same person. A home, caring people, and medication gave him back to himself.

So, yes, I gained some weight. And yes, I gained it because of a pharmaceutical. Please don’t worry. It was exactly what I needed. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Forget Those Abusive New Year’s Resolutions

Joan Crawford in "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?"

A new year, a new you, right? Time to lose weight, get fit, change your diet, stop yelling at your kids, love your spouse oh so perfectly, and basically be glowingly nice to everyone all the time. The only problem, of course, is that this is not only bullshit, but it’s the worst form of self-abuse.

Implied in all these resolutions is that as of December 31st of any given year, you notice that you suck. You just aren’t good enough. Buck up. Get with the program. You can do better than this! And by the third week of January, when you have failed in 90% of your aspirations, you feel even worse about yourself, because if you weren’t a TOTAL LOSER, you would’ve been able to stick it out and make it happen. This is yet another verse in the song, “I can’t be happy now, but I’ll be happy ONE DAY when I’ve fixed all my problems.”

Inevitably, some of my Facebook friends posted their resolutions. And it’s not that they’re all bad, mind. If you can make healthier choices, then make them! There’s nothing wrong with fitness, healthy food, or a genuine desire to be a good person. The problem is when you decide that you aren’t good enough today, but there’s that BETTER you out there in the future, waiting to be born. This is a myth, of course. You are the best you that you can be, right this very minute. Abusing yourself with the notion that you haven’t really tried in all the years of your life, due to some innate failing on your part, is not healthy.

A group of women at my gym started a new year’s cleanse for three weeks. The idea is to detox after a holiday season full of rich food. I have no problem with this, since I personally don’t want to see either cream or sugary treats for quite a while. Most of the time, I eat whole, unprocessed foods. As I was reading the rules of engagement, one of the big ones was no alcohol. The other was black coffee. Well, I put coconut milk in my coffee, and I’m still going to do that. But no evening cocktail? Seriously? As things progressed, many of these women were opting to eat smoothies for breakfast and salads for dinner. Now, I already eat salad for lunch every day. Not because I feel I should, but because I genuinely enjoy it. And a part of me naturally rebels at the thought of drinking my breakfast. (Unless it’s coffee, of course.) This was no longer sounding like a simple, fun cleanse. What was next, a fast? I could feel my resolve slipping away…

A meme on social media. Author unknown

A meme on social media. Author unknown

I’m officially now at the age (older than the wonderful cat above) that I will do what I please and not worry what the rest of the world thinks about it. And it may be that this kind of wisdom is one you have to earn with years. Many of the people who seem to suffer the most with new year’s resolutions are younger and in their 20s-30s. They’re still not sure if they’re good enough, so they seek validation from the world around them. Women, in particular, struggle with acceptance of their physical presence on the earth. It doesn’t help that so many businesses’ profits depend on us feeling bad about ourselves.

S0, what to do? The big key is acceptance. Accept who you are, right now. Embrace that person. No one ever said you had to be perfect. No one ever was perfect. No one. So what makes you think you will be any different? You are the product of your history, your genes, your society, and your self-regard. That last one is kind of important, because it’s the only one that you control. If you continuously think you suck, it’s going to have a negative effect on your life. You’re going to stress out about how not to suck, which is a moving target that you will never achieve because you will continue to think that you suck, even when you don’t. And if you are certain you suck, no one can tell you otherwise.

So acceptance is step one, and choosing to like yourself as you are is another.

I have known many people who believe that liking themselves, much less loving themselves, is some sort of Herculean task that they will never, ever attain. It’s too hard, they say. Well, believing that certainly makes it so. You’ve given up at the starting gate. Those other horses are definitely going to win…

Self-regard is something that you cultivate, like a garden. You clear the weeds, you plant seeds, and then you mulch, water, and fertilize. It’s a process, not a sudden, overnight change between December 31 and January 1. When I plant my seeds, I believe that my garden will grow. You must also believe in your garden and in your inherent self-worth right now. Tomorrow doesn’t exist. You only have this moment. Use it and forget about fixing what isn’t really broken at all.

Comic relief

If you’re still having a hard time accepting and liking yourself, well… JUST STOP IT. Bob Newhart will show you how. It’s hilarious because it’s true.