Roadblock Ahead: How Assumptions Impede Our Journey

When I was in the sixth grade, I wanted nothing more than to have blond hair, blue eyes, and the affection of my classmates–most of whom treated me like a three legged dog. They oscillated between pity, tolerance and annoyance. At their best they were dismissive, which is probably why I craved their attention and went to unhealthy lengths to get it. When the boys took turns belching in class, I joined in the chorus. When the girls pierced their ears, I followed suit. Still, I just didn’t quite fit in(I wonder why!).

Perception is not always reality.

I also made a lot of assumptions about my classmates. One friend had a poodle skirt her mother made and I was incredibly jealous. I thought that she had the perfect life because she had that skirt(among other things). I assumed the same about the girls with stylish hair and even the boys with their soccer shorts and cleats(they were so cool!). In short, I assumed things about people based on their possessions or appearance that had nothing to do with their character. I believe this is why I formed such unhealthy relationships in my childhood; I was so busy trying to impress people while at the same time consuming their affection like a starved animal – all so I could improve my social situation.

When I began my journey to better health, I thought my life would be darn near perfect once I got to a certain size. To my shame, as I lost the weight, I continued to make assumptions about those who couldn’t. I noticed in myself a shameful attitude: pride. And let me be clear, there is nothing so ugly as arrogance. I knew being thinner didn’t make me better, but it was such a terrible temptation to think that way. Now I have arrived at a place where I can see the apple from both sides of the tree. I know how it feels to be heavy and ashamed, and I know how it feels to be healthy and ashamed. For whatever reason, I carry in myself a certain sense of guilt that I have been able to lose the weight while others have not. This perspective imbues me with a certain sense of responsibility to share my experiences. I want people to know that it is possible to be heavy your whole life and find lasting change by living a healthy lifestyle. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it is possible.

I have been following a blogger on Medium, “My Fat Friend”. She writes about her experiences as a “fat” person in a thin-themed culture. I can relate to almost everything she writes. I always felt like a pariah as a heavy person. At the same time I am also condemned by what she writes. Most recently she slayed me with this quote: “But to go to a gym, I’ve also got to brave a culture that’s borne of insecurity, perfectionism and the lack of it.” Because insecurity, perfectionism, and my lack of it were frequent companions in my journey to better health. I refused to join a gym because I didn’t want to be the “fat” girl in a room full of anorexic freaks. But at the same time, I wanted to be the “anorexic freak”. Talk about an identity crisis!

I will never forget the moment I realized people liked me more because I was thinner. I was angry. Hurt. Livid. Didn’t people realize I was the same person on the inside? I was still Margaret. Why did people treat me differently?

I walk my dog in the mornings and have made fast friends with the other walkers and joggers. They wear sporty skorts and headband visors. They have Nike tennis shoes. Sometimes they even stop to chat and tell me the names of their doggies. They make me feel accepted and–I’ll be honest–I love it! I have become a part of this strange, albeit warm and friendly suburban culture of good health. But there is one woman who isn’t chatty. She is older and heavier-set, and though I have seen her walking for over a year now, the only thing that has changed about her is her hairstyle. Last year I remember calling out to her, “You are doing great!” I said it because I remembered how hard it was to walk up hills as a heavier person and I was proud of her. But now that I consider those words, I am sad. I remember the distinct look on her face when I passed her. She was annoyed that I had called out to encourage her. She looked at me and made an assumption that I was one of those healthy/fit type people who was judging her based solely by her waistline. And the thing is, I feel just awful about it. Every time I see her I want to apologize for being a total and complete dunderhead.

Assumptions make for weak human beings. We fail people when we view them only by what we assume of them rather than for who they actually are. I will even go a step further, we fail ourselves too. Because assumptions are only a half-step away from fantasy, and when we project onto others our perceived thoughts of them based solely on appearance or association, we can cause great and lasting damage.

This morning I ran into someone I used to go to school with. He didn’t remember me, though I remembered him well. Back then I considered us casual friends in that way people are when they are both sort of social outcasts. As we talked I came to realize that we were making assumptions of each other based on our (flawed) memories of shared experiences. Emotions cloud our judgement, especially in regards to childhood pain. And to be honest, I began to feel very fearful because I was worried he would remember me as I was and be unable to move on to who I am today. I haven’t seen him in nearly 28 years! Of course we have changed. Having said all of that, I wished we could just start over. I wished I had a big fan in which to blow away the dark cloud of painful childhood memories. In essence, I want to look through the lens of truth and see him for who he is today; a husband and father–but more importantly–a human being and fellow brother in this journey we call life. To do that, I have to be willing to let go of what was(or what I thought was) and embrace the present. I have to set aside my experiences, to ask questions and to be willing to listen to the answers. In essence, I need to let go of what was and embrace what is. Sometimes that is a lot harder than it seems. But I consider it just another step in my journey to learn discipline, especially in regards to loving my neighbors.