Destination Discipline

Each of us carries the history of our family in our blood. Our skin and bones bear witness to our roots in a way words never will. I read the facial expressions of my children and see their cousins, my sister’s children. Little noses. The curl of their lips. Their eyes when they smile. Pictures don’t capture the soul but our brains record the movement, documenting and purging by the hour. I am frequently tickled and frustrated by their behavior. And then I wonder, who do people see when they look at me?

I remember walking into a school function some years back and running into one of my dad’s cousins. I didn’t know him or his wife but they laughed when they said, “Margaret, you look just like your mother.” I was familiar and it made me feel warm to know I belonged to someone.

If we can’t escape the genes of the people we were born to, can we dodge the habits and thought processes we have picked up while living with them? For instance, I remember my mother having great disdain for people who were late. She often said tardiness was rude. For that reason I will always struggle with guilt when I am late. It pushes me to be timely. As it relates to food, she would encourage us to eat fruit instead of chips or cookies. For that reason when I think snack, I think apple or orange. I am passing this practice on to my children. As I learn about nutrition I know my growing boys need protein and carbohydrates so I offer them nuts and cheese and fresh homemade bread. And then I wonder, what attitudes and behaviors am I passing down to them? Children are like little sponges, soaking up everything we toss their way.

I frequently discuss parenting with my friends and there is always a prominent theme: we all feel inept to teach when we feel so incompetent at managing our own lives. And yet we go about teaching, whether we want to or not. Our behaviors today are the attitudes of our children tomorrow. In much the same way they will pass on my behavior to their own children, should they choose to have any.

At last I arrive at the place where I want to make my point. So often we make the mistake of comparing our bodies to those of our family members. We seek out the familiarity of those we resemble. Normally that is a good and healthy thing. But I think we make a mistake if we don’t take responsibility for our individuality. It is wrong to embrace the flaws of our ancestors insomuch as we refuse to acknowledge them as flaws. For example, knowing everyone in our family has a history of obesity should not lead us to the conclusion that we have no choice but to follow in that tradition. We are individually responsible for our behavior. Just because my parent taught me, consciously or unconsciously, to take comfort in double fudge brownies when I am sad, doesn’t mean I need to carry on that tradition. It may be easier to point out attitudinal flaws like judgmentalism or racism, for example. But that does not negate the flawed logic of embracing food as comfort simply because it is a learned behavior. We need to see our attitudes, behaviors and physical traits for what they are outside of our family ties all the while loving and respecting those who share our genetic similarities. We also need to realize we are all on our individual paths and some are farther down the road than others.

I often make the mistake of comparing myself to other women. Maybe it’s a woman thing. I will think, “She is prettier than me. She has smaller hips and perfectly proportioned legs while I’m stuck in stumpy leg land. It’s not fair that my genes are against me and my metabolism is slow.” I have to consciously practice changing my attitude. First, because my outer appearance does not define who I am inside, but more importantly because I am Margaret and no one else. I am responsible for my body, my attitude, my behavior. And while it is difficult to challenge deeply ingrained behavior, I have found great joy in discovering who I am outside the realm of my ancestors. But only insomuch as it sets me free from their flaws. I am perfectly content to love and cherish all of my inherited perfections.

Today I am thankful for my mother’s face and my father’s heart. I am hopeful that I will pass some measure of the love they have bestowed on me to my own children. After all, love is the greatest inheritance we can receive or give.

I have several friends who have recently begun journeys to better health. One is having immense success in the midst of great personal trauma. The other met with her new doctor yesterday. I watch from the sidelines giddy with hope and filled with fear. Will they succeed? What can I do to contribute to that success? How do I best encourage them when I know the stakes and the uphill battle they fight. They are at the bottom of the hill, getting ready to charge the enemy. Will they duck and cover or will they take their bayonet and go for the guts?

It leads me to question my own journey(again) and how I got to where I am today. I ask myself why I have succeeded when so many fail. What have I learned that I can share with others? Or in the words of my boss, what is it about my journey that “makes me so remarkable?”

I want to be completely honest, I don’t feel remarkable. I don’t even feel special. If anything, I feel amazed. My weight loss is amazing because managing my body never ceases to be a struggle. That is why magic pills don’t work. I am constantly adapting to my cravings and coming up with new ways to circumvent my desire to eat. Many times I lose the battle but I never stop fighting the war. Fail today, endeavor to succeed tomorrow. I suppose this is what inevitably makes me successful, the fact that I refuse to give up.

I had lunch with a co-worker yesterday, someone I respect a great deal. He asked me, “So, why are you successful?” Here’s what I said.

I have to address the reasons why I eat. This means doing the dirty work of getting to know myself intimately. Know thy enemy. For instance, I know that I love to eat for the simple pleasure of eating. Food tastes good. Also, I like to eat when I feel physically bad(I’ve gained 6 pounds being sick this week). I eat when stressed out to calm down. It relaxes me. I have known about these desires for many years but refused to do anything about them. In all honesty, I had learned to accept the fact that I would never be thin because I “knew” I could never live without the foods I loved. I made the food more important than my physical health. And the sad thing is, the more I ate, the more dead inside I felt. That is why I call food addiction a lie. It never made me happy. Knowing all of that, how did I go about fighting back?

Education.

First I read about other people who had lost weight and managed to keep it off. Not Weight Watcher people(though I am not against WW), I just wanted to know if there was a way to not go on a diet, but to learn how to still eat AND lose weight. I began to read books about nutrition and the way chemical compositions affect the body. As I learned, I had little light bulb moments. “Oh, so that’s why I can’t stop eating candy!” or “Wow, there’s that many calories in French fries?”

But I liked French fries. How do I stop eating them?

I made a choice. I liked French fries, but I really wanted to lose weight. In the beginning I allowed myself the occasional diversion to eat the things I really wanted to eat, like French fries. I even learned how to bake sweet potato fries in the oven and discovered something I like more than traditional French fries. OMG! YUM! I closed the door on many things I used to love to eat and learned there was a whole host of foods I could enjoy that didn’t have as many calories, were actually good for me(fresh spinach!), and re-learned how to make things like pizza in a healthy way. This continues to evolve today.

Portion control

This is the one thing I will always struggle with. I don’t like to stop eating. I call it my “feeding frenzy.” I have to make a very deliberate choice to put small portions on my plate and not go back for seconds if I want to lose weight. Is it difficult? Yes. Is it impossible? No. Is it my favorite thing? No. But I have to do it to keep the weight off. It is the one truly difficult part of maintaining my weight loss.

Exercise

I know now that people can lose weight without exercise but I didn’t know that in the beginning. So I just made myself do it. I didn’t want to. It felt a little bit like a root canal, necessary but not wholly enjoyable. It was not fun for a very long time. It was something I just had to get through. I looked at it like taking medicine. I’m sick and I want to feel better. So I must walk 30 minutes a day. I will be glad when it is over but I’m going to make myself do it. End of story. I still marvel at how I slowly fell in love with exercise. I remember what it felt like in the beginning. It sucked. But now, on most days, I really love moving. I love how I feel while doing it and I love how I feel when I’m done. I learned this from experience, not from a book. I think this is how we all learn best, personal experience. But you’ll never learn if you never try.

Today I am rooting for my friends. I am hoping and praying for their success. I hope they find satisfaction when they reach their destination, but also in the journey. I know that I feel better since I lost the weight and I know they will too. Not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Because losing weight does not fundamentally change who you are inside, but there are many wonderful blessings that grow out of that bitter, hard ground…things like self-confidence, tenacity and self-love. And those qualities are even more wonderful than fitting into your goal dress.

I picked up a free ebook on Amazon the other day. It is titled, “It’s Not All About Me – The top ten techniques for Building Quick Rapport with Anyone”, by Robin Dreeke. I thought it looked like an interesting read. I’m all about self improvement and can be fairly neurotic. I thought I could probably glean a few things that would at the very least help me at work. Robin Dreeke is the head of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Program within the Counterintelligence Division. I thought, I bet this guy is pretty smart. He is!

I read the first two chapters with interest yesterday at lunch. His first piece of advice is to smile. In fact, the whole first chapter is about how disarming a smile can be and how to engage people simply by showing happiness. For some of us this is difficult and takes a little practice. For instance, have you ever seen a person who looks as if they have never smiled a day in their life?

Their face seems to be stuck in a permanent state of misery. I always wonder what that person would look like if they were happier.

To smile seems fairly intuitive in the building of relationships. All that is required is to maneuver a few facial muscles and viola! Win friends and influence people. Except that it’s not always that easy. At least not for me.

I have mentioned before that I’m a little like Eyeore. I can be a gloomy Gus. Pouting’s my name and frowning’s my game. Okay. Enough word games. You get the picture. I have a terrible habit of walking around wearing my emotions on my face. A common reaction to this look of doom is, “Margaret, are you okay?” to which I respond, “No.” To which they say, “What’s wrong with you?” To which I reply, “The sky is falling.” It’s really rather pathetic. But I’m very good at self pity. One could say I’ve earned my gold star in self pity.

A few years ago someone pulled me aside and said, “Margaret, I know you have a hard life, but you have to be more positive at work. Everyone thinks you’re grumpy. Even if you don’t feel like it, you need to smile more.” I walked away and cried for a week. Then I began to learn the art of painting on a fake smile. When anyone would ask how I was I would say, “Fine.” Just like a normal person. For a long time it felt really unnatural but eventually I got used to it. And truth be told, I’m glad that person told me to cheer up. They said a hard truth that made me reevaluate my facial expressions. And that is powerful.

As I read Robin’s book the true power behind a smile dawned on me. Even though I generally am very good at my fake smile now, I have learned how to genuinely smile and put the real emotion behind it, even if I feel like garbage inside.

Today started out really rough. I dragged my tired body out of bed, depressed and sick at heart. I had a familiar feeling of gloomy Gus syndrome and longed to stay at home in bed. But I couldn’t. I have to go to work whether I feel like it or not. But I cannot stress enough how very much I did not want to and how difficult it was to make myself do it.

Once I walked in the door to work I adjusted my facial muscles and forced myself to look carefree. Within minutes I was engaged in a conversation with a woman I don’t know very well. I complimented her hair and told her “I like your personal style.” After she gushed about her hair dresser for a few minutes she stopped and said, “You know Margaret, you are always so cheerful.” I smiled and thought, “If only you knew.”

But I walked away from the conversation with a glimmer of hope in my heart. If making myself smile and pretend to be happy makes other people happy which in turn makes me happy, why did I ever expend so much energy moping about?

And that, my friends, is why we should all smile as much as we can when we are sad and having a hard time. A smile is like a boomerang. When you throw it at someone, it comes right back at you. Which does kind of make it all about me, but not really.