What My Wedding Taught Me About Beauty Culture

I’m not shy about my anti-diet message.

I’m a strong advocate of body acceptance and encourage my clients to derive self-worth from inner values rather than outer appearance. It’s not always easy to practice what I preach, but I’m committed to trying my best.

Last month, I got married. It was an incredible milestone that I will remember with joy forever. However, in the months leading up to our big day, I found my inner Anti-Diet Warrior was challenged in some new ways. Today I want to share how my experience as a bride challenged my resolve and offer some guidance for those of you preparing for your wedding or any other big life event.

In our beauty-obsessed culture, the message (particularly for women) is that those who fit the standards of beauty (thin, tanned, clear complexioned, young, white, and confident but not too confident) are most worthy of love and admiration. Everywhere we turn, there are products and services geared towards “fixing” various aspects of our natural appearance to achieve this worthy ideal. Apparently, there is not just an ideal woman, there’s also an ideal bride: thin, tanned, clear complexioned, bright eyed, effortless. Basically, she’s just a lace-covered, amped up version of the same beauty standard that’s promoted in everyday life. But she is special because all eyes are on her.

Weddings are one-time events, so even if most of us can’t achieve the ideal in everyday life, we’re taught that we can still make ourselves the ideal bride, by temporarily pouring money, time, and energy into pre-wedding diet and beauty regimens and achieving perfection for that one magical day. In fact, it’s so common for brides to aggressively diet in advance of the wedding that there’s a term for the practice: Brideorexia.

I’m grateful I get to work with clients who bravely recover from eating disorders every day. My job protected me from Brideorexia and motivated me to stay balanced. I didn’t want to compromise my professional integrity, and I wanted to treat my body with compassion. So I made a pledge to myself when we got engaged. I swore that I would not alter my eating habits or physical activities in preparation for the wedding.

Turned out, keeping my promise was harder than I expected. A few months before the wedding, a back injury forced me to step back from my usual physical activities. I knew I had to respect my body’s need for rest, but my brain was suddenly telling me to compensate. The inner critic said I should probably “just diet a little” since the wedding was coming up. What the heck, brain?

Every day, I held tight to this mantra: My body is the least interesting thing about me.  When I saw anything that tried to convince me otherwise, I was quick to hit “unfollow” or change the channel. When my own thoughts tried to convince me otherwise, I sought support or did some journaling. When people wanted to discuss their diets, I would change the subject. When the girl doing my bridal alterations suggested that we wait to finish “in case I wanted to lose any weight,” I politely assured her that wasn’t in the plans.

It’s important to note that I have the privilege of living in a naturally smaller body. While this doesn’t make me immune from bad body image days (nobody is), it means I was not really hit with judgments or stigma from the outside world for choosing not to shrink my body before the wedding.

A sad truth in our weight-biased culture is that many brides (and non-brides) in larger bodies are subjected to more overt pressures and messaging to change themselves. My experience, while challenging thanks to my inner critic and a lifetime of absorbing social messages, was just a fraction of what many people face on a daily basis.

The paradigm overall needs to change.  We need to stop reinforcing women for their appearance and promoting an unrealistic “ideal” that hardly anybody fits into naturally. While this seems like a long journey (and it is!) it starts with each of us at the individual level. Read on for some tips to get you started.

Rejecting Unhelpful Ideals of Beauty

My advice to anyone struggling with appearance-based insecurities (pre-wedding or otherwise) is to consider the messages surrounding you.

  • Become a critical consumer of media. Are the TV shows, movies, commercials, podcasts, and blogs you frequent promoting things to alter your appearance? Are they insinuating you’ll be happier as a result of “fixing” something (body hair, acne, body fat, wrinkles, under-eye circles, or any of the millions of nuances of being a human)? Are they emphasizing what you look like as a reflection of how you’re doing in life?
  • Notice how social media makes you feel. When you’re consuming social media, how are you feeling? Do you feel negatively towards yourself? Do you compare yourself to the accounts you follow? If someone you loved saw this same account, how do you think it would make them feel about themselves? Also, remember that you cannot tell how healthy, successful, or satisfied a person is based on their appearance.
  • Messages also come from the people around us. Do your friends, family members, and coworkers make you feel insecure about how you look? Do they talk about themselves in negative or self-critical ways? Often, body shaming can feel like a bonding activity, especially among groups of women. Notice if you find yourself joining in just because it’s an easy way to connect.
  • Catch yourself judging others based on appearance, whether praise (I wish I had her thighs!) or criticism (that haircut is horrible on her). Ask yourself, what would I say if I didn’t comment on appearance right now? What else would I notice and appreciate? If you’ve been taught to value being beautiful and to take pride in your appearance, this exercise is tough. It’s eye-opening to learn how instinctively we comment on someone’s looks.

While we can’t completely avoid the pressure to “fix” the parts of ourselves that society has deemed to need fixing, we can be critical consumers. We can get angry when faced with this messaging, and speak up when people around us are spewing these messages (however well-intentioned they might be). None of us owes the world an altered version of ourselves.

In conclusion, this stuff is complicated.

 It would be a flat-out lie to say that I didn’t get pleasure out of having fancy hair and makeup, a gorgeous dress, and sparkly shoes at my wedding. It was really fun. In our human brains that love to categorize things as “right” or “wrong,” it’s tough to let there be a middle ground. In some ways, reveling in how pretty I looked made me feel like a hypocrite and a failure as an anti-diet clinician. My brain told me I’m supposed to give the middle finger to the mirror, but in my heart, I admitted I wanted to feel beautiful. I decided to give myself permission to participate in the beauty traditions, without judging myself either way.

Listening to what I felt I “should” do to reject beauty standards would have diminished my enjoyment of this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Each of us has to figure out what’s most authentic to ourselves.  If you derive pleasure from the primping, good for you! If you hate it, don’t do it! For me, the key was remembering that there’s no right or wrong. It’s okay to invest energy in how you look, and it’s also okay not to.

Remember that the wedding, beauty, and diet industries are each raking in billions of dollars every year by convincing you that you need to look a certain way. Think about whether buying a service or product will truly lead to a happier experience. If you want to amp up your workouts or whiten your teeth or get a spray tan, you do you, girl. Choosing to alter your appearance is not the problem; the problem is believing that youneed to alter your appearance to be worthy of validation.

When you stop acting like appearance is the most interesting thing about yourself or other people, you start to see more. You start to recognize the emotion on someone’s face, without giving attention to the wrinkles or spots. You start to appreciate the deeper, more meaningful things. And when you look at photos from one of the happiest days of your life, you’ll see the joy and love, regardless of how your face and body looked.

The researchers at Beauty Redefined said it best: your body is an instrument, not an ornament. If you need some help navigating this stuff, I’m here for you. You deserve freedom from looks-based judgments on your wedding day and every day.

7 Tips for Opening Up in Therapy

When you open up in therapy, it can be magical. It can lead to change, growth, insight, recovery, and healing. But being able to go “deeper” than surface-level topics can be challenging, especially if you’ve been hurt, dismissed, or embarrassed in the past, or if you’re having a hard time coming to terms with a piece of truth (and ironically, these are often the reasons a person comes to therapy in the first place!)

I’ve compiled a list below of tips to help move the process along and overcome whatever barriers are holding you back:

1. Clarify your goals. It’s impossible to know what the destination will look like (or to know if you’re even on the right track) if you don’t have a roadmap. Work together with your therapist to create a clear picture of what you’re seeking from treatment. This might be a specific goal to work towards, like a change in behavior, or it might be that you want to better understand a certain topic, gain and practice new tools for managing emotions, communicate more effectively in your relationships, or improve self-esteem. If you can’t quite articulate what you want, but you know things are feeling “off,” it’s okay to ask your therapist for some help with finding the words to explain what you’re looking for.

2. Clarify your feelings. I’ve been on both sides of the couch, so I know how overwhelming it can be when there are a billion thoughts and feelings swirling around as you sit there. It can be challenging to find language that pinpoints what you’re experiencing, and most of us haven’t been taught a very robust “emotional vocabulary” from a young age.  Plus, feelings can’t always be explained by a single word. Often, our feelings pop up in conjunction with one another, and we need several words to fully encompass what’s happening. Other times, we might “feel” in visual imagery, shapes, or physiological sensations (like nausea, chest tension, or butterflies in the stomach), or in a metaphor.

3. Write it down. If you know there is something you want to express but it’s hard to say it out loud in the presence of your therapist (or maybe it’s hard to say in front of anyone), try writing it down ahead of time. This is also a useful method for making sure you aren’t going to forget to bring something up. Write it down in a journal, or create a bullet-pointed list in a notebook or in the notes on your smartphone to bring into session. This can help you address a topic when you’re feeling urges to avoid it.

4. Give your therapist a “head’s up.” If they’re open to it, send an email or text to your therapist between sessions to let them know what you want to talk about. This is useful if there’s something you don’t think you’ll have the guts to say out loud. This can be an effective way to hold yourself accountable and to “let the cat out of the bag” before you even come to the session, especially if you’re someone whose anxiety tends to build in anticipation. A word of caution: it’s important to only do this if you have explicit agreement from your therapist. The policies and rules regarding how, when, and about what topics your therapist is able to communicate with you outside of session can vary for different providers, so be sure to ask if this is something they are open to doing.

5. Tinker with your therapy environment. Although therapists work hard to make sure their space is warm and inviting, it’s possible that the setup doesn’t suit your needs. If it’s too hot, cold, or bright in the room, or if you feel too pressured when you’re making direct eye contact, you might have a hard time opening up. Many people feel more at-ease if they’re fidgeting, doodling, or gazing out the window. I keep small objects, worry stones, or silly putty for clients to mess around with while we’re chatting, since occupying the hands can help some folks feel calmer. Try to sit or lounge comfortably, which can help you loosen up. Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable laying down, or sitting on the floor with your legs outstretched. I’ve noticed some people feel safer while hugging a throw pillow.

At my practice, we also have a “walk and talk” consent form that clients can sign if they’re interested in the option of walking around outside together during sessions. It’s important that your confidentiality is protected, so if your therapist’s office is in a busy, crowded, or high-traffic area, consider whether you’d be bothered by the risk of being seen or disrupted by passersby. If you have the ability to walk somewhere secluded and peaceful, though, it could be just the switch you need to start talking.

Overall, if you can take a creative approach to identifying your needs, it’s likely that your therapist will be supportive of these modifications. There’s no “wrong way” to settle in to the space, so think about what works well for you and then ask if it’s an option.

6. Ease into the session. It can sometimes feel abrupt to sit down and start talking right away. It can help to spend a few minutes at the beginning by shifting into the space and mindset of therapy. Ask your therapist if he/she would be open to guiding you through a relaxation exercise. This might mean engaging in a mindfulness meditation, guided imagery, deep breathing, or a body scan. These can be powerful ways to slow down and clear your mind. Starting with a meditation sets up your “baseline” so that if you do become emotionally activated when exploring difficult topics in session, you can always return to the soothing activity again to calm down. It can also help to end session with a similar grounding exercise, so that you feel rooted and stable before going back out into the “real world.”

7. Consider your relationship with your therapist. In order to be vulnerable in someone’s presence, you have to feel safe. The nature of the client-therapist relationship might take some getting used to, and at first it might feel like you’re opening up to a stranger. It can take time to get to know their personality and establish trust.

Therapy is different from your social interactions in “normal life.” Typically, you might be used to a certain back-and-forth exchange in your conversations: I ask you a question, and you answer it and then ask me a question and I answer it. This becomes second nature to us, so you might feel “rude” or just strange if you don’t ask a follow up question when your therapist asks you something. However, therapy is designed to be entirely focused on you, the client, so the therapist typically does not reveal much personal information, and this can be hard to adjust to.

If you find you’re having a hard time trusting your therapist, think about the factors contributing to the barrier. Do they seem too stiff, formal, or unexpressive? Or, do they respond to you in a way that helps you feel cared for, respected, and understood? Do you notice you’re censoring yourself or holding back out of fear of how they will react, or desire to influence how they perceive you? After all, we all want to be liked, so it’s hard to speak about things we feel guilty or ashamed about, even when we know the person won’t judge us. It’s natural to struggle with all of these things. As awkward as it might be to discuss them, by being honest you and your therapist can work together to facilitate a stronger connection.

 

At the end of the day, therapy is about you getting what you need, so it’s only going to be effective if you and your therapist are able to foster the right context for you to open up. If you look into all of these factors and you still don’t feel able to share, it’s possible that your therapist is not the best fit for you. Therapists come from a variety of backgrounds, educations, training, theoretical models, and clinical styles, so there’s no “one size fits all” approach. On top of that, every therapist is still just a person, and not every personality is the best fit for you. If you’re considering “breaking up” with your therapist or trying to figure out what you need, check out this blog post I wrote on the subject last month.

What helps you to open up in therapy? Feel free to share in the comments below or on my IG account (@mindful.drpaula) with any additional tips of your own, and let me know what works best for you!

Demystifying Mental Health Treatment: How long will I need therapy?

It’s the start of a new year, and while you don’t need the calendar to tell you when to make a change, the whole #resolutions thing makes it a convenient time for many to reflect on goals for themselves in the upcoming year and start taking action steps. My #resolution is to do my part to bust myths around mental health treatment, so that nobody has to feel embarrassed or judged for struggling. To get things going, I’ve decided to start off 2018 with a series of posts demystifying the process of therapy. I’ve noticed that many people considering therapy have the same questions and concerns about the process. Today, I’ll address the one I most frequently get: how long will this take?

Well… at the risk of sounding wishy-washy, the truth is that it’s different for everyone. People seek therapy for various reasons, so treatment is not “one size fits all.” Some people are struggling emotionally with things like depression, anxiety, or grief, or having difficulty coping with a past trauma, navigating a difficult relationship, or managing self-criticism. Others may be struggling to stop engaging in certain behaviors, like addiction, substance abuse, compulsive behaviors, or unhealthy eating and exercise habits. Some people may be looking for help adjusting to a major life change or while going through a life transition (such as graduating from college, starting a new job, getting fired, going through divorce, moving to a new city, grieving for a loved one, or having a child). The list could keep going on—humans are complex and messy, and so it is natural at some point in our lives to experience a disruption to our mental health, just like it’s natural to get sick or injured physically at some point.

I suspect that the reason this question is so common is that we like to know what we’re getting ourselves into. Totally fair. Humans are wired to solve problems. When something is bugging us, we want to figure it out right away so that we can fix it and move on. If you’re coming to therapy, you might have been experiencing difficulties for a long time and are finally ready to commit towards change and growth. Or, maybe something just recently popped up, and you want to “fix it” before things get worse. Either way, you probably want some instant gratification. So even though I can’t give you a straight answer about how long it will take, I can do my best to help you get some immediate relief, as soon as the very first session. In fact, it’s a good rule of thumb when you’re looking for a therapist to consider when you walk out of the first session whether or not you feel understood, supported, and hopeful about the possibility of change (even if you don’t feel “better” right away).

Research over the last several decades has shown that therapy has the best chance of being “successful” when the client and therapist have a strong rapport, or therapeutic alliance. Rapport is developed when the therapist and client build trust in one another and work as a collaborative team. Most people need a little while before they are comfortable opening up. However, if you’ve been going to your therapist for awhile and still don’t trust them, this is important to address. I’ll be writing a future post about what to do if therapy isn’t helping you or if you want to break up with your therapist, so stay tuned for more on that later. In the meantime, just know that the sooner you and your therapist form a connection, the sooner you can get to work.

The length of therapy also can depend on how long you’ve been struggling with certain behaviors or experiencing symptoms, how motivated you are to change, the approach your therapist is using, and how open you are to trying new and sometimes difficult things. I often will suggest something many times, over the course of weeks or even months, before a client is willing to give it a try, and that’s okay. We can’t force change—you have to be ready for it when you’re ready for it. So that might take a degree of patience from both of us. Plus, it sometimes takes a lot of repetition before something finally “clicks,” since therapy involves shifting belief systems and worldviews that have been in place for many years. I like to tell people, “you didn’t get this way overnight, so you won’t change overnight either.” If you’re trying to change a lifelong habit, it can take some time to start seeing results because the habit might be really deeply ingrained, and you may not have ever really used other tools (or even known there were other tools available) for dealing with certain experiences. That being said, just because someone has been stuck in a certain pattern for 10 or 20 years does not mean it will take 10 or 20 years to change it. Just don’t expect to break longstanding habits in one session. If you find yourself feeling impatient with the pace of change, speak up. Therapists are not mind readers and if we know you’re feeling frustrated then we can figure out how to get “unstuck” and moving again.

Sometimes, we are chugging along nicely, and then – surprise – life drops a metaphorical bomb. Unexpected stressors can barge in (a breakup, a medical diagnosis, an accident, etc.) and interrupt progress or take priority over whatever we had originally been working on. That might mean we shift course and then return to the original plan at a later time (or abandon the original plan if necessary). It’s important to stay flexible as we go along. I’ve also found that as we progress, we sometimes uncover or make room for other topics to address that weren’t the original reasons for seeking therapy but that are still worth focusing on. For example, maybe you came in to treat your anxiety, but along the way we realize that most of your anxiety is work-related and it’s because you’re in a work environment that just isn’t right for you, so we start to explore a job change. Or, once we’ve helped you resolve depressive symptoms, we start to look at an unhealthy romantic relationship that you weren’t ready to address before.

If you’re dealing with trauma or grieving for a loss, the change may be slower than you’d like it to be, since the healing process often involves feeling an increase in pain or discomfort before experiencing any decreases. If you’re dealing with symptoms of an eating disorder, phobia, or obsessive-compulsive disorder, you also might notice symptoms worsening before they improve, because a component of treatment involves exposure to things that you prefer to avoid in order to get you more comfortable with anxiety “triggers.” This is often a very challenging and stressful process, but ultimately if you stick with it, you will find relief in the long run.

Typically, I like to start off meeting once weekly, and then scale down and meet less frequently as treatment progresses and you start to see change, to give you a chance to try things on your own. Occasionally, we may increase frequency to twice-weekly sessions for a brief period of time in situations where a person needs more support than once-weekly sessions can provide, and there are many clinicians who will meet two, three, or even four times weekly with their clients (this is not my policy). In the initial session, we can get a sense of what’s going on and what level of support would be best, and if you need more than what I am able to provide in a private practice (such as inpatient/ residential treatment or intensive outpatient treatment), I will refer you elsewhere. While it’s important to consider your unique situation when making decisions about how frequently to meet, I have generally found that people who commit to coming in regularly and making it a priority to stick with therapy have seen the fastest change.

Now, I don’t take it personally that you might not want to see me every week forever and ever. In fact, I have the opposite perspective. I don’t want my clients to have to come any longer than necessary. Once you’ve reached your treatment goals, we discuss whether anything new needs our attention, and if not, we decide that it’s time to say goodbye. My goal is to essentially make you into your own therapist, so that you can internalize our work and go about your merry way. As much as I love working with my clients, I also love sending them off into the world to spread their wings! That being said, in times of high stress, it’s not uncommon to slip back into old habits or patterns of thinking, feeling, and behaving. So my door is always open for a “booster” session down the road, even if we haven’t worked together in awhile.

Some clear outcomes of therapy include:

  • Developing skills for effective communication and problem-solving
  • Feeling more self-confident and becoming more compassionate towards yourself and others
  • Learning new ways to cope with stress and anxiety
  • Becoming more equipped to manage and regulate your mood
  • Improving your social, intimate partner relations, and family relationships
  • Changing old behavior patterns and developing new ones
  • Gaining self-awareness and a better understanding of your values

The start of a new year is the perfect time to begin making changes to enhance your life, and therapy might be part of the plan.

If you are considering therapy and want to know more, or if you have a question about how therapy works and would like to see a future post about it, comment in the section below or send me an email, drpaulafreedman@gmail.com.

Book Review: “I’m Fine… and Other Lies” by Whitney Cummings

Reading tends to be very “all or nothing” for me—I’m either totally consumed, turning pages for hours on end and ignoring the world around me and internal cues for food or sleep until I’m done, or I’m noncommittal, absent-mindedly skimming paragraphs until I inevitably abandon it to collect dust on my nightstand with all of the other “I’ve been meaning to finish that!” novels. To me, the sign of a good book is not “I can’t put it down until I KNOW what happens!” and it’s not “I’ll finish it eventually, if I have the time.” It’s that healthy middle ground, much like romantic relationships. Neither codependence (“I can’t live without you!”) nor too much independence (“I’m not even interested in connecting with you”) is consistently satisfying.

Perhaps you’ll find it ironic that I was able to enjoy a book about codependency while (for once) maintaining my healthy dependence and independence needs. As a story, it contained just enough psych-y content to appeal to my inner nerd, and just enough comedy to appeal to my inner self-care coach. It was engaging, satisfying, but not so consuming that I lost all ability to stay connected to my own priorities and identity. As far as book-relationships go, “I’m Fine” quickly became a lasting, rewarding love. So I wanted to share the love, by writing my first-ever book review. Here goes!

In case you’re not familiar with her work, Whitney Cummings writes, produces, and does stand-up comedy.  I’ve been a big fan of hers for several years. What’s always endeared her to me is her tendency to “plug” therapy (thanks for the free marketing, girl!) and to use humor as a way of coping with the dysfunctions of the human condition.

A lot of memoir-type books I’ve read have bugged me (and ended up as ex-lovers in the dusty nightstand pile) because the author tries too hard to sound self-actualized, taking on an annoying “wannabe-wise” tone in an effort to artfully conclude the general storyline of “I used to be naïve in how I handled life, and then I overcame some challenges.” Whitney writes like she’s in her 30s, and she is in her 30s. She’s not pretending like she’s 80 years old and has it all figured out, nor is she dwelling in adolescent insecurities. She takes semi-frequent breaks from her “I used to be so clueless” shtick to actually give herself credit for the growth and insights she has worked to gain, but she doesn’t succumb to the urge to tie it up neatly with a happily-ever-after type ending.

Whitney (I can’t bring myself to get formal and call her Ms. Cummings, sorry) demonstrates what happens when someone moves from being a blind, passive recipient of life experiences to being a self-aware, active shaper of her own reality through intentional choices. As a psychologist, I am grateful for her honest account of her experiences with several types of therapies. She also admits several times that she often rejected an idea or treatment approach (especially in her adolescence and early 20’s) because she wasn’t yet ready to have her defenses challenged. THANK YOU FOR OWNING THIS! I get so irritated when people say, “I tried therapy, but it didn’t work for me.” People, it works if you work it! So if someone’s in denial, nothing’s gonna change. Psychologists aren’t psychics or magicians. Though Whitney has apparently tried her hand at consulting psychics and magicians, too, which made for some fascinating early chapters. Anyway, I digress.

I also enjoyed her evaluations of what worked and didn’t work for her in the process of healing from various hurts. After all, mental health treatment is not one-size-fits-all. There are so many theoretical models and approaches out there. Vera, the therapist with whom she ended up finally forming a meaningful therapeutic relationship, sounded like a total badass; she was clinically well-versed, and fluent in Whitney’s language, helping her recognize the “addictive” patterns of her codependency and eating disorders.

Self-acceptance is a major theme in “I’m Fine.” Whitney’s exploration of how she developed and then healed from an eating disorder will hopefully shed light on an often-misunderstood constellation of symptoms, and the unhelpful thinking and mixed messages that are so easily internalized. Her honesty about struggles with “ED” is beyond refreshing. The media masterfully perpetuates an absurd mixed message, glorifying the woman who acts so totally chill and just LOOOVES eating carbs, and yet is constantly pulling up the waistband of her roomy size zero jeans, equating slimness with chillness and worthiness. I have lots to say about this ridiculousness, but I will have to save my rant for another time to stay on topic.

My point is, Whitney doesn’t fall for the BS of mixed messages and she actually talks about the monster life-sucker that is the “quest for physical perfection.” She calls herself out for sometimes buying into a disempowering cultural norm, and gives us all a reality check in the process. Her overall message is that it’s not only allowed, but truly vital for us all to meet our own basic human needs for food, water, love, and self-respect.

Speaking of basic human needs, Whitney also gives a shout-out to “inner-child work,” which is an element of therapy that can be so powerful in developing self-esteem. Basically, the premise is that humans actually age like trees. Remember how they taught us in school about how to tell how old a tree is? When you cut the trunk horizontally, you can see all of the “rings” in its cross-section. Each ring grows around the one within it as the tree ages. We’re like trees; every age contains every previous age within it. If we go down really deep, we’re all housing an inner five-year-old. When there’s a control-type issue (addiction, eating, OCD, perfectionism), it can often be traced to unmet childhood needs, so the inner child is still scrambling to get “adult you’s” attention.

In Whitney’s case, she learned to deny her needs from a young age, so as an adult she only felt in control if she was denying her needs. She learned that this was the only way to be worthy of love and belonging. For example, food is a basic need. Believing it is “bad” or “wrong” to eat is not only self-destructive, it’s downright mean. When she learned to “re-parent” her inner five-year-old, she was able to live more wholly and let go of old insecurities. That’s why I love this framework: most people can get on board with the fact that it’s pretty atrocious to act like an asshole towards a five-year-old. When you start to see that’s what you’ve been doing by self-punishing (forcing yourself to exercise, cursing yourself for eating the extra slice of pizza, forcing yourself to stay at the office till 11pm instead of getting much-needed sleep) you’re more inclined to soften up. A five-year-old doesn’t care about her weight; she just wants to enjoy life. She doesn’t care about your promotion at work; she just wants you to come home and play with her. We can all benefit from the reminder that we’ve each got a little kid living inside of us, just looking for love and acceptance, so we don’t need to be so damn hard on ourselves or each other.

One area left me wanting more: I still have so many questions about the specifics of her childhood. If she had chosen to share more details about what went down in her early childhood, it could have given the reader a richer picture of how her core beliefs were shaped. However, at the end of the day, my insatiable curiosity about the human condition aside, she certainly exposed insecurities and fears that most of us lack the courage to reveal, so I can’t blame her for choosing to gloss over some details. She gave us enough info to connect the dots, and I respect her decision to not be a completely open book. Yeah, pun intended, I couldn’t resist 🙂

I often struggle as a relatively young psychologist with “imposter syndrome,” fantasizing about the day when I’ll feel like an “expert.” Stories like Whitney’s remind me that I actually hope the opposite is true. I hope I never wake up one day thinking I know exactly how to handle things. That would feel robotic. I’m human and therefore I’m a messy work in progress. I struggle to practice what I preach. I get whispers from the demons in my head. I get caught up thinking I need to be “fine,” and thinking it’s my job to make other people “fine” as well, which it’s obviously not. Insecurity and self-doubt are all just part of the deal, and that’s okay.

“I’m Fine” is a hilarious and raw reminder that life gets ten billion times more rewarding when you stop pretending to be fine. I hope this book will serve as an example of the awesomeness that can come from authenticity, owning your shit, and opening up about mental health struggles. If you read it and want to share your reactions, please feel free to do so in the comments below! Oh, and if this book made you realize you’re not “fine” or it inspired you to seek therapy, I’m here for that, too.

The “Inner Detective” inside of each woman

The other morning, I decided to cut through a nearby park on my way home from a workout. As I was strolling along, a man approached, clearly staring me up and down. When we crossed paths, he said to me, “You’ve got the face of an angel!” I smiled politely and he continued on, “Do you know that you’ve been kissed by God?” I responded with another smile and kept walking. I felt myself exhale as I saw that he continued walking in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until the interaction ended that I even realized that my subconscious had been hard at work for the duration of the 15-second exchange, evaluating threats and calculating the most “appropriate” ways to react. I took in his appearance, body language, tone of voice, and physical size.  There was an automatic analysis of his likely intention (to hit on me? to be friendly? to give me his input on my identity as an angel?) and my wisest response (to laugh? to nod? to ignore him?) and never once did I consider what I felt like doing because the focus was on keeping him non-threatening and getting on with my day.

Someone recently shared with me a piece in the Huffington Post by Gretchen Kelly, titled “The Thing All Women Do That You Don’t Know About.” She points out the various ways that women de-escalate and shrink our everyday experiences to avoid confrontation. As soon as I read it, I felt validated and shared it with several of my female friends, colleagues, and clients. It resonated with each of them. I realize as I write this that I conveniently “didn’t think about” sending it to any men. Perhaps on some level, I assumed they wouldn’t be interested, or wouldn’t find it as powerful as I did (which would feel invalidating and make me question whether my reaction was “right”). As social creatures, we naturally look to others for external validation, and when we don’t get it, we naturally question whether our perceptions were accurate. That’s why groupthink is a thing. We like to “belong,” to feel like people agree with us and believe that what we bring to the table is important.  So I guess I played it safe by sharing the article with people I could count on for validation– fellow women.

I share Kelly’s worries when it comes to discussing women’s issues. I worry that I’ll be accused of exaggerating or overreacting, or being “sensitive.” In another part of my brain, though, there’s a voice that says “It doesn’t matter. I’m a person, and dammit, all human experience is valid!” It’s a newer voice, probably fueled by my training as a psychologist, but I sure am grateful it chimed in. The fact that this voice is not the most familiar message my brain gives me tells me that as human beings, we need to talk about what’s happening, so that we can stop invalidating each other and start connecting more authentically.

As a woman, I’ve been programmed to do the type of split-second assessment I did at the park the other morning everywhere. It’s something that happens as automatically as blinking. Nobody ever sat me down and taught me to dissect the environmental, social, physical, and emotional elements of my daily interactions with men, but I still learned how to do it. I learned the necessity of de-escalating, as Kelly calls it, to keep myself functioning in the world.

I know that regardless of gender, anyone can commit or become a victim of sexual assault and other forms of violating interpersonal behavior. I also know from experience that when we feel attacked or accused of something that feels “icky,” we become defensive. You could ask me about the race of the man who approached me in the park, and argue that had something to do with my fear. I can already feel my defenses gearing up to “prove” that my fear response was not based on the man’s race, because “Oh my gosh, what if I seem racist?” You could tell me I should have been flattered by his compliment, and I feel myself start to question down another self-doubting road, “Oh my gosh, what if I’m overreacting to something harmless and he was just being friendly?” Those reactions are there because there’s some truth underneath.

Here’s the thing, though. As I mentioned in my post last Thanksgiving, I know that I have biases. I make implicit associations based on race, gender, age, appearance. We all do.  We can’t possibly know about all of them, but when we discover them, we can try our best to acknowledge and own them instead of denying them. It’s an uncomfortable process that nobody is ever truly “done” figuring out. But here’s the other thing. I don’t think it helps anyone to pin this womanly “detective work” on racial or any other type of bias. I have had this feeling in response to looks, gestures, and comments from a diverse range of men. Maybe race plays a role, maybe age plays a role, maybe my mood that day plays a role in how I perceive someone… but these are not even close to being the only factors at play. I learned to assess and respond to men to keep myself safe, to prevent a scoff and a muttering of “bitch” under a stranger’s breath, to avoid angering or provoking.

I’ve worked with many clients who struggle to heal from trauma. What I find hardest about treating people who have been abused, assaulted, and raped is that there is this larger-scale minimizing that works against them. We can sit together and validate like there’s no tomorrow, but it often feels like just a drop in the bucket. We still live in a world where de-escalation is the norm. At the society level, we are denying, distorting, and invalidating people’s experiences. I get it; this type of stuff isn’t exactly fun to acknowledge. It’s much easier to say to someone (or to yourself) that “he was just joking around” than to say to someone (or to yourself) that what he just said was inappropriate. It’s much easier to blame the recipient of unwanted advancements (“if you don’t want to get hit on, don’t dress in a tight shirt”) than to turn inward and acknowledge that we said or did something that made someone uncomfortable. Plus, these exchanges often happen so automatically that it isn’t always possible to recognize them before they’re over.

Peel back one more layer of the onion and it’s clear that many of us choose not to bother speaking up, often until things “cross the line” and get dangerous. The shaming/ blaming/ dismissing responses that tend to come from calling out inappropriate and intrusive behavior makes it easier sometimes to just shame/ blame/ dismiss it within ourselves before even acknowledging that something bothered us. We’ve done it a billion times. It often ends up being seen as “overreacting” if we say that someone’s behavior felt scary, creepy, or hurtful. And who wants to be labeled as “dramatic” or “blowing things out of proportion” or “playing the victim?”

Here’s my challenge to all of us: speak up, let yourself speak up, and let others speak up without dismissing.  If you’re a woman, admit that something didn’t feel okay to you and let yourself get pissed off. Teach your children that their experiences are always valid, and that if something feels threatening, they aren’t overreacting. If you’re a man, let yourself consider that what I’m saying might be accurate. Notice if you become defensive and think, “it’s not fair to blame us for your reactions,” or, “I’m a nice guy/ social worker/ philanthropist/ feminist/ mensch, don’t try to make me feel guilty about this stuff,” or “men can be victimized, too.” Then, see if you can get to something else, below your automatic reaction. I’m not saying men can’t be victimized, and I’m not saying all men have done this type of thing. I’m just asking for everyone to listen and take it seriously.

I’m not pointing fingers at anyone; this isn’t about casting certain people as villains based on their gender or any other demographics. It’s about getting one another to start listening openly and without defenses. Asking yourself if you’ve invalidated someone is not an easy thing to do. I hate having to admit when I have minimized someone else’s experience, because I feel guilty and ashamed, but I also know it’s the only way to change things. And I know from the number of people I see, day in and day out, who bravely share the pain of their experiences, that we need to make this change.

New Year, Same Fear (Part 2)

In honor of the New Year, I’ve been reflecting on the passage of time and the ways that time becomes distorted by our perceptions. In my last post, I talked about some of the ways we (humans) unintentionally (yet oftentimes, very determinedly) keep ourselves feeling stuck. The key to freeing ourselves from our “control agendas” is acceptance.  So Part One was about how we are all, to some degree, plagued by avoidance, and Part Two is about swallowing its antidote, acceptance.

“Acceptance” means making space for all of the feelings and experiences that are natural parts of life, without trying to change them or make them go away. It means opening up to the feelings of fear that naturally arise. It means acknowledging that we can’t predict the future or change the past. It means owning that we are imperfect and messy. It means that we will sometimes feel rejected, inadequate, or unlovable, and it means that we are REAL and ALIVE. It takes courage to practice acceptance, because you have to be willing to sometimes feel like crap.   Perhaps you already try to do this, or perhaps you think it’s a load of BS. After all, why would you choose to “just feel crappy?” Keep in mind that you don’t have to want, enjoy, or welcome an emotion in order to be willing to have it.

The idea is that our efforts to change or fix the “problem” of unpleasant emotions only serve to amplify and intensify those emotions. If I hate broccoli, I can choose not to buy it at the grocery store and refrain from ordering it on a menu. That’s a great way to deal with the problem of “I hate broccoli,” because broccoli is an external stimulus. If I hate feeling guilt, I might try applying the same strategies that solved my “I hate broccoli” problem to the “I hate guilt” problem, by trying to make the guilt go away. Clearly, this does not work, because guilt is a transient and subjective internal experience, rather than a concrete, external object. We naturally try to solve our internal problems in the same ways we solve our external problems, but the strategies that are successful in the external world are pretty ineffective when applied to the internal world. Our efforts can get discouraging and just plain exhausting. Acceptance is about letting go of the struggle to “fix” everything, and learning to see what’s inside of ourselves not as “things that need fixing,” but just as “things that are there.”

What gets in the way, usually, is fear. Fear that if I let myself feel the joy of a new relationship, I’ll be vulnerable to more sadness and disappointment if it doesn’t work out. Fear that if I let myself feel worried or scared or cry, I won’t be able to handle it. I will sink into crappy feelings that will last forever, and it will be awful. The man who felt anxious at work had a bunch of different choices in how he related to his anxiety. One choice, besides drinking, would have been to feel his anxiety, say to himself “I’m feeling anxious,” and still go to work and survive his day. He just didn’t realize that letting himself be uncomfortable without trying to make the discomfort go away was even an option, because he was caught in what Tara Brach calls “the trance of fear.” The trance of fear is what sends us into problem-solving mode, and it can happen so quickly that we don’t even know we’re doing it. As a therapist, I’ve seen this time and time again, and in my own life, I’ve experienced it time and time again. It’s in our nature as humans to want to change, fix, or solve things we don’t like. We like to control, but it is our very efforts to control that draw us into struggle and suffering.

What’s so fulfilling about accepting all of the yucky stuff going on within ourselves instead of trying to make it go away (and yes, “yucky stuff” is the clinical term) is that it makes more space for the full spectrum of emotions to exist. Life includes pain, insecurity, and self-doubt, but inevitably, it also includes the pleasant and pleasurable, the warm and joyful, the loving and compassionate.

It is NOT easy to practice leaning in to the full spectrum of emotional experiences. When we get stuck, we can take comfort in the fact that we are working through what is a natural human process, because it means that we never have to walk the journey alone.

If you find yourself needing support in your efforts to open up to in fear in 2016, I may be able to help. Call or email me and we can work together toward a greater sense of support and balance.

New Year, Same Fear (Part 1)

It’s 2016! When did this even happen? Time seems to pass at weird rates.

How often have you asked someone about their day at work, and they replied, “Ugh, it was so LONG” or have you been asked about a trip and you responded, “it went by so FAST”?   The passing of time can feel excruciatingly slow or dizzyingly fast, depending on a million other internal and external factors.

Not to go all Literal Lucy here, but time actually moves at the same rate, no matter what. A minute is always sixty seconds. The reality is that this is 100% our perception and experience of time.

If we can recognize that the passing of time is only quickened or slowed down by our perceptions of it, we become better equipped for living fully in each moment. Time doesn’t have to be this slippery, elusive element that never seems to do what we want it to; time simply passes, and we can watch it, ignore it, lament what could have been, anticipate what is to come, or, trickiest of all, simply live in it.

What makes us wish time slowed down (or stopped) during the joyful moments is the same thing that makes us wish it sped up when our day feels sucky. It’s the phenomenon referred to in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) as experiential avoidance or control, which is the attempt to control or alter the form, frequency, or situational sensitivity of internal experiences, such as thoughts, feelings, sensations, or memories, even when doing so causes us behavioral harm (Hayes, Wilson, Gifford, Follette, & Strosahl, 1996).

Okay, I’ll chill on the psych jargon and give it to you straight. Basically, we use all kinds of conscious and unconscious strategies to try to avoid, suppress, or ignore the things that we don’t enjoy (the long line at the supermarket, the obnoxious sound your partner makes when he chews his cereal, the throbbing pain of a sinus headache, the painful memories of a traumatic experience, the feeling of grief when we lose a loved one, the feeling of rejection when we get dumped). When we perceive something as crappy, we want to make it STOP or GO AWAY. On the other hand, we do the opposite and try to cling to, prolong, or drag out the things that give us pleasure (vacations, eating cake, having an orgasm, getting a good night’s sleep, feeling important or special when we get a promotion at work, feeling loved when our children climb into our laps with a book).

For example, try to recall a time you have felt a positive feeling (such as pleasure or delight) and an experience that went along with it. For me, an easy example is when I’m eating a delicious ice cream sundae on a hot summer afternoon. With my first decadent bite, I can count on a slew of enjoyable feelings and internal experiences to pop up. I’ll think the thought, “this is delicious!” accompanied by my mouth watering when I taste the refreshing sensation of cold, creamy sweetness. Then… the moment I have these enjoyable experiences, my body and brain automatically go into experiential control efforts. No more than a few bites in, I may start to think, “I wish this bowl was bigger.” I start trying to eat very slowly and make it last longer, or I think about what else I can get to satisfy my insatiable sweet tooth after I finish. Sometimes I feel guilty over my indulgence, or I feel annoyed that it’s melting faster than I want to eat it. All at once, my experience of pleasure becomes tainted by my own reactions, my “control agenda” and the effort to hold onto ice-cream-induced pleasure forever and ever.

The same goes for avoidance efforts. Addiction often develops because of experiential avoidance. For example, a 35-year-old man feels self-conscious when socializing in groups, but he works in an office culture where the expectation is to attend work-related social functions. He finds that after a few drinks, his nerves are calmed and his anxiety is dulled. He starts to rely on this strategy more and more, to take the edge off. Over time, this behavior gets reinforced. He learns that when he drinks, the unpleasant feelings go away. His body builds tolerance to alcohol, and he must drink more and more to get the same effects. When he sobers up, he feels guilty and ashamed, on top of the anxiety he already was feeling. He starts drinking before work in the mornings, trying to prevent the unpleasant feelings before they overwhelm him. It’s easy to see how the man’s efforts to control his feelings lead to his feelings controlling him, as his daily life becomes focused on “not feeling anxious.”

As Brene Brown mentions in her popular Ted Talk, The Power of Vulnerability, we cannot selectively numb. We can’t choose to not feel anxiety ever, because anxiety is part of life. On a related note, we cannot selectively cling. We can’t choose to only feel joy all the time. Knowing this, it’s futile to tell someone (or to tell yourself) to “just stop thinking about it” or “perk up!” If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of these well-intentioned pieces of advice, you know how unhelpful they can feel. We don’t get to choose WHAT our thoughts, feelings, and internal experiences are. What we can choose is HOW WE RELATE to those experiences. We have a choice in how much attention we give to the thoughts, emotions, memories, and sensations that we experience, and how much we allow them to dictate our behaviors and control our daily lives.

Next time you feel like time is slipping through your fingers, or find yourself impatiently watching the clock, see if you can turn inward and tune into what else you’re feeling, not just what’s driving a sense of urgency.  And then, see if you can let go of the urgency and connect to the experience itself.  If you’re not sure how to do this, you’re not alone. It’s much easier said than done.

Stay tuned for a sequel to this post in the next few days, and as always, feel free to contact me for help or support.

 

Wishing everyone a warm and healthy new year!

Get REAL This Thanksgiving

Warning: this post may seem harsh. “Thanksgiving” is a sly and misleading name for the part of American history it commemorates. It has a dark side, but it’s so hidden by turkey and stuffing and family drama and football that most of us can easily forget it’s even there. With Thanksgiving, Americans have created a holiday that connotes all things wonderful, gratitude and family and patriotism and perseverance, but Thanksgiving is also a holiday commemorating our exploitation of the land, resources, and people who were here before us. As explorers, intruders, colonizers, Americans came to a land that was already populated, and made up and imposed rules on this country. The people and culture who were exploited continue to experience oppression and marginalization to this day. Like anything with a dark side, we came up with reasons for why this was necessary, even helpful, rather than recognizing such oppression. Celebrating Thanksgiving as purely positive, without mentioning the genocide that ensued, is a whole lot of ignorance and denial.

Go ahead, call me cynical or a downer. React however you’re going to react. At the end of the day, I’m giving voice to something real.

Confession time: I did not know anyone who identified as Native American while I was growing up. I generally consider myself to be a pretty flexible, open-minded, accepting person, and I appreciate diversity in all aspects of the word. But as I’ve mentioned before, I started this blog as a challenge to myself to practice what I preach. To uncover blind spots and biases, to bring them into awareness, and to move through them in the most honest ways that I could. So while I am embarrassed to say this, I’ll put it out there and deal with my consequences: I used to love Pocahantas. Okay, I said it. I even dressed as her for Halloween once. I have lived in multiple cities with sports team mascots derived from Native American symbols and that portray Native peoples (think Redskins, Blackhawks, Braves, Chiefs) in completely racist and dehumanizing ways, and I often did not notice.

When I was 26, I moved to Minneapolis for a year to complete my pre-doctoral training at a chemical dependency treatment center. Minnesota has a much larger Native community than anywhere else I’d ever lived, and I began working with colleagues and clients who were Native. If I’m being honest (which, let’s face it, I’ve kind of signed myself up for Honesty Boot Camp here, being both a writer and a psychologist) it was almost as if Native Americans weren’t real to me until I met people who were Native American. The ignorance I had muddled through for much of my life began to dissipate as the Native American story slowly became more real and alive to me. I struggled with feelings of sadness, shame, and the residual “white guilt.”

Oftentimes, when we (humans) realize we were racist, ignorant, or naive in some way, we feel such overwhelming shame that we get defensive. We react to those uncomfortable feelings by denying that we were ever so off-base, or making up excuses for why we had a right to do what we did and think what we thought. I’d be full of shit if I didn’t admit that I was tempted to do that, too. The thing is, once you learn something, it really does more harm to un-learn it than to incorporate it into awareness. I have developed more empathy related to what Native American people have experienced. Recognizing that I had this unconscious bias, working through my initial guilt and defensiveness, and then allowing myself to become a more respectful and compassionate person has been uncomfortable, but guess what? It’s been fine. I didn’t spontaneously combust. I know I’m not going to rewrite history, so denying it is pretty useless. The systematically-induced shaming and ignoring of Native Americans in this country has been happening for centuries and it blows my mind that before I went to Minnesota, I was never exposed to it. It was glossed over in my textbooks.  All that I can do today is give the history some validation here.

While I understand how offensive and insensitive it is to dress in costumes of another culture for amusement, or to turn other human beings into mascots, I also know that it’s unproductive for me to get stuck feeling shameful, guilty, and pissed off at myself for being so ignorant. I truly did not know any better, and now I do, and so I’m choosing to change my attitudes. Simple… but not easy.

We all can relate to and connect with others, however different we may appear on the surface, and I think we need to get better at recognizing that. I was ignorant, and in many ways, I still am ignorant and don’t even know it (which is kind of the definition of “ignorance,” right? It’s not conscious). When I realized that I had been unwittingly, blindly, albeit innocently following traditions and practices that dehumanized Native American people, I felt horrible. I also realized that I have a choice, and I choose to own up to it, apologize for it, and become a more accepting and compassionate person.

Confession, Part 2: despite my awareness, I still celebrate Thanksgiving. I think there are many wonderful things about Thanksgiving, as it can be a lovely opportunity to connect with loved ones and enjoy a meal together. As a big fan of mindfulness, I also really like the idea of taking some time to be thankful, to intentionally recognize what we appreciate in life. However, it’s necessary to paint the whole picture for ourselves. We can make space for both the dark and light sides of history.

I encourage you to take a look inward, and recognize whether you, too, have been unwittingly, innocently following along with views that are unbalanced or ignorant of other human beings. Try to resist the urge to disown your experiences and instead, let yourself feel uncomfortable for a minute. Nobody is built completely bias-less, but everybody seems to want everybody else to think we are. Let’s get real.

I believe that through continuing to be vulnerable at different levels, we can learn to strike a balance between accepting ourselves, accepting others, and feeling accepted by others. This Thanksgiving, and every day, I think we owe it to ourselves as human beings to let ourselves get called out on our biases, and instead of reacting with defensiveness and denial, instead of trivializing or sinking into shame, respond with clarity and acceptance.

I wish everyone a safe, healthy, and meaningful holiday.

Being Vulnerable (yuuuughh) AKA Why I’m starting to blog

Do you ever enjoy something so much, even though it simultaneously has components of it that SUCK? Sometimes there’s just no way around it. That’s how I feel about writing… and about doing therapy.

As a human being, I’ve learned time and time again that it’s both terrifying and profoundly rewarding to expose one’s most authentic self. Sharing who you really are can make you want to crap yourself with fear. I have always found writing my thoughts down to be calming and freeing; however, having other people see my inner reflections scares me shitless. So why am I doing it?

One of the coolest part of my job as a psychologist is that I get to help people practice being real (of course, I generally don’t lead with the “wanting to crap yourself” metaphor). I get to witness the healing and cathartic benefits that result from a trusting environment.  Sometimes, that means getting people to cry who, for whatever reason, don’t want to let themselves. Sometimes, it’s helping them tap into their innermost demons, shine light on their darkest shadows of fear and pain, the things that keep them awake at night or cause them to binge-eat chips from the bag or drink too many beers. The things that make them lash out at or withdraw from the people they love. For better or worse, the inner demons don’t usually go away without us having to watch them bear their fangs at some point. Helping people feel brave enough to do this is, hands down, my favorite part of my work… but I also hate it because I KNOW how much it SUCKS in the moment. Confronting the shame in myself is also the most difficult part of the job… but it’s also the ONLY way to be an effective therapist. Like in any profession, it can be incredibly tough to practice what we preach. Call me cheesy… but I believe that’s how we know it’s something worth doing.

That’s why I’m starting this blog, despite feeling terrified of all the haters out there in the world and on the Internet who might read it and think I’m a fool or what not. Or worse, how silly I feel thinking my blog would even attract haters who cared enough to have an opinion!

I think we are all spiritually thirsty and blowing in the wind.  I hope you’ll join me as I regularly reflect on being human, having feelings, and living a rich and rewarding and wonderfully messy life.

Feel free to comment… what’s something you find worthwhile, even if it makes want to crap yourself with fear?