Looking back at my childhood and adolescence there were certain family "rules" that we abided by. The primary rule that my mom spoke quite frequently was the mantra that we be "Happy, Happy, Happy." She frequently said that when there was discord in the family and she just wanted to just smooth it over and go back to things looking good. Even if we were alone as a family unit, it had to look good. Amidst the yelling, arguing, fighting, crying, silence and the more then occasional "stink eye" looks, we had to appear and believe that we were all happy. I think that sentiment carries over into lots of places in my life, and certainly one of those is the world of external image management. Even if I was being teased, taunted, bullied or ignored, I certainly needed to appear like I was happy. I was certainly known as the girl who had/has a vivid sense of humor, was always quick with a joke, and was generally in a good mood. I'm not sure if I gave out this vibe authentically or if I did it in an attempt to try and make people like me more. I do know that having an artificially perky demeanor was not done to make people believe that I never had my feelings hurt or that I was someone who was coated in Teflon when it came to the mean and nasty comments of others. I have realized in retrospect that I'm not that good of an actress. I never have been. Of all the clothes I've ever owned, they always had to be able to accommodate me wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Growing up and becoming part of the 12 Step community of OA effected me greatly when it came to my belief and use of the "Happy, Happy, Happy" mantra. My mom had always been very tall and very slender growing up due to a high activity level, and summers spent as a lifeguard on one of Minnesota's ten thousand lakes. When she got married, as many women do, her diet discipline relaxed and she put on weight. At 5' 9 3/4", she spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence at a size 18/20, which while considered a "plus" size, did not look disproportionally large at the time. But I very clearly remember that she would frequently say out loud to the anyone who was listening, "I'll be happy when I'm thin." That statement created two ideas in my head: a) My mom is not happy "now"; and b) If you're overweight you can't possibly be happy. It became one of those things that I just believed to be true after hearing it enough times. It certainly became true for me.
So imagine my profound surprise of walking into my very first 12 step meeting ever and finding happy, grateful, joyful people of ALL shapes and sizes. I was welcomed into the community with great affection and understanding and I was immediately struck by the idea that here were people who may not necessarily be at what they believe is their ideal body weight, but they were happy RIGHT NOW. They weren't waiting for a number on a scale, or the results of a diet that was starting on the following Monday, first of the month, or next New Years. It was, and remains to be the thing that keeps me coming back to OA. The idea that happiness was not contingent on anything that was waiting to be acquired in the future.
Something else happened when I began participating in OA regularly. I began to understand that my worth and lovability did not depend on me giving off an artificial picture of happiness. And as I mentioned before, with my being a less than spectacular actress, most of the people close to me, were not fooled by my "Happy Fat Chick" facade anyway. When I finally began talking about the shame and self-loathing that accompanied 200+ extra pounds of weight on my body, there was a collective sigh of relief on the part of my friends. They finally felt like they could talk to me about something that they had been genuinely concerned about. Not only was my health becoming a legitimate concern at this point, but everyone knew that I was sad even profoundly depressed, and that there was a profound whole in my heart that had been undiscovered and unfilled up until that point. I felt such a sense of remorse that the people who cared about me so much, and were my closest friends, somehow knew that the topic of my weight and eating were NOT safe topics to bring up to me. I was too defensive and up until entering OA, too unwilling to start making any sort of changes in this area of my life. Even as imperfectly as I have done, it truly hope that I am never so defensive and guarded that those who care about me can't bring up a topic if they're coming from a place of love and concern.
As I began to put the food down once tenuous day at a time in OA, the feelings I'd been so desperately trying to push down bubbled up, the emotions came with the predictability of a summer squall. I can honestly say that I cried in my second meeting. I think the primary reason I cried was because I was finally in a place where it was safe to do so. There was such a sense of relief that I'd found a community of people who felt and acted the same way that I did when it came to the crazy irrational and powerless things that I'd done with food. It truly felt like I'd found "HOME". If you are one of the people who have found acceptance, understanding, love and hope in the rooms of recovery; you may be able to relate when I say that it was nothing short of a miracle to feel safe. Finally feeling loved and accepted even when I weighed 400lbs, felt like a profound experience, and it still does.
One of the ongoing processes for me in my journey is to be honest when I am asked how I'm doing or feeling. It's amazing how much I still want to say, "I'm fine", with a happy perky and completely artificial smile on my face when people as me how I'm doing. I want to be able to say that "I'm great!" because I'd like to feel like a happy chirpy bird in a Disney movie all the time. And some days I can say that, and some days I can't. The challenge is to realize that the size of my body does not determine my worth or my RIGHT to be honest about how I'm feeling on any given day. The size of my body does not determine the RIGHT I have to receive support when I need it. Learning to ask for that support is an on going process. THAT is the beginning of the journey to becoming an authentically happy and content person. I feel like I'm certainly on my way so far.
No comments:
Post a Comment