It's Not All About Me

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.

Identity

For many years I didn't know who I was. Sure, I knew my name and general proclivities but I wasn't cognizant of my real identity. Every day my emotions led me around by the nose while I smiled or whimpered at their whim. One could say I was a bit of a trainwreck. And I didn't let people help me. I didn't want to acknowledge there was a problem.

I burned through several important relationships because every time something happened(bad or good) I would dump all of my feelings onto that person, using them as a sounding board and all around safety net. I would not only yack their ear off, I would then ask for their advice. I refused to make a decision about anything until I asked everyone I came into contact with what they thought I should do.

Even worse, I would then neglect their advice, do what I wanted to do and then apologize. I still have a habit of apologizing for anything and everything. Almost as if I'm apologizing for my existence. I have been so worried about what everyone thought of me that I didn't take the time to understand who I was. My identity was centered around what I thought people wanted me to be. Trying to please everyone and in essence pleasing no one.

Someone close to me hurt my feelings recently. They only said a few words but those choise words cut deep. The old song about sticks and stones breaking bones, but words would never hurt me is so untrue. I have been thinking about that person and what they said for a month now. Wondering why they said what they did and if they could possibly know how deep it went. As usual, I am too much of a coward to call them out on it. I'm worried I'll make it worse, to be frank, and that I should just forgive and move on. I could talk about forgiveness and reconciliation here and but that's not the topic of this blog. What I want to discuss here is loving myself and knowing who I am outside of what other people think of me. This person fundamentally attacked my lifestyle and in a very personal way. I think I know their motives, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

The point I want to make is this, I have determined that I no longer need to apologize for myself. Who I am is good. That is not to say I am perfect, but in general, I have honest intentions. I am living a healthy lifestyle. I am aware that I was once enslaved to food and have been set free. I have done much research on how food negatively impacts the lives of people I care deeply for. And in fact, I see that many people I care deeply for are hurting because they have many of the same struggles I have with food. I am also angry. I am angry at companies that make food addictive and promote ill health. I am angry at our culture when it promotes laziness, gluttony and greed. And I honestly want to change the world. I want to change it by speaking truth about the foods we consume and our attitudes about them. When I see an ad for mega stuff Oreo cookies, I want to tell people how many chemicals are in them in the hopes that educating that person will help set them free from eating a whole bag but not understanding why. It is not because I am trying to make that person feel bad about their food choices. To the contrary, I only want to help.

I look at it this way, if I were walking through the woods and came across a person who had fallen into a ditch and broken their ankle and couldn't get up, I would offer assistance. That person might tell me, "I don't need your help." Then I would walk on. If that person cried and said, "I do need help." I would do everything in my power to do just that.

My husband acuses me quite frequently of lecturing. Truth be told, I am frequently lecturing myself out of eating something I really want to eat but know it is bad for me. My oldest son and I were at Sam's on Sunday and I saw a 3.6 pound bag of Skittles. The package was bright red with rainbows on it. I love rainbows. They make me happy. I wanted to buy it and eat every single last Skittle. So I picked up the bag and showed it to my son and said, "How many calories do you think are in this bag?" He rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming. Another lecture. But this time, a nice older gentleman interrupted when he stopped and tried(in his strange senile way) to help me figure out how many calories were in the bag. He did not understand that I was lecturing myself out of buying them. It was actually rather comical. The thing is, I don't even know I'm doing it most of the time. It's just who I am now. I have devised all of these internal protection devices to save myself from the lies of the world that try to tempt me. And I want to throw this out there....I'm tired of apologizing for it.

I am that crazy health freak people complain about. I get it. I'm weird. But you know what? I've been weird since the third grade when they put me in the class for slow kids. And maybe even before that. I don't know how to be normal. I don't even know what normal is. My friends will attest to this. I am coming out of the closet to everyone else. I'm not going to apologize for being who I am any longer.

The thing is, I have been liberated from a lifetime of unhealthy living. I don't have it all figured out. I'm on the journey, learning every day how to care for my body. And I have so many foibles and a trillion regrets. But I'm doing my darnedest to make my life better one choice at a time. I honestly don't judge people on how they live their life(at least I try really hard not to). I've lived it. I have been the guy with the broken ankle refusing help. But today, I want to help other people get their lives on track. You might think I'm lecturing. I want to be forthright with you, I'm just being who I am. I know who I am and where I have been. I even know where I'm going. You may not agree with my lifestyle and I may not agree with yours, but I do promise one thing, to share with you what I've learned in an effort to help improve your quality of life. Do you know why? Because I care. I wouldn't tell you there is too much sodium in soda if I didn't think it was important. And, you might not care. I get it. If you don't want to hear it, just tell me and I'll shut up. But it you do...

Maybe

Just maybe

I can help you out of that ditch.

We All Need Somebody to Lean On

When I was in high school I loved the song, Lean on Me. The version I loved was an R&B cover by Club Nouveau. (The original song was written by Bill Withers.) I can still remember dancing around with my hairbrush in my bedroom, gyrating and twirling as I got ready for school. The hip hop beat really resonated with me at the time but the words still ring true today.

When I first began my journey to better health I asked a friend to be my accountability partner. I don't think Becky really knew what she was getting into when she said yes. In the beginning I was excited and hopeful. On day 2(ha!) I freaked out. I’m pretty sure I called crying hysterically and asking Becky to pray for me so I wouldn't eat any candy or french fries. I talk about french fries a lot because they were a staple in my diet back then. I never eat them now and honestly don't miss them but back then I couldn't imagine life without them. There were also numerous phone calls to Becky where she listened to me cry over cookies I couldn't eat at work, stress I didn't know how to handle without chocolate, and psychological issues related to a lifetime of food addiction. Her unwavering faith in my ability to lose the weight was my pillar of strength. Have I mentioned I'm a little melodramatic? But Becky never let on. She loved me just the way I was.

Then there were the days I had to confess the "bad" thing I had eaten. Sometimes she listened patiently and said, "It's okay. You won't do it again." But most of the time she said, "Margaret! What were you thinking?!" She is really good at giving lectures. Truth be told, I didn't always tell her when I cheated.

My point in mentioning all this is that more often than not we need someone to lean on in tough times. I know God hears me when I pray for help, but I’m not able to touch Him or hear His voice. I believe that is why God gave us friends. They help carry our burdens, and sometimes go so far as to admonish us when we are boneheads.

One of my favorite books is Pilgrims Progress by John Bunyan. I love the character of Hopeful who meets Christian after his friend Faithful is martyred. When they are imprisoned in Doubting Castle they have each other. I can almost see them in my mind, huddled together, weeping in despair. This is what friends do. They can't take the pain away, but they can hold us until the time of suffering is over.

I don't think I would have made it through my journey without Becky. I don't want to give her all the credit, I made my own choices. But she played an integral role by supporting me when I wasn't strong enough to support myself. A good friend adds sweetness to a bitter journey.

Today, be the kind of friend you want to have when your world crumbles, and say thank you to the "Beckys" in your life.

Guilt, The Final Frontier

There are days when everything feels wrong. All my doubts about my abilities attack like a swarm of killer bees and sting the stuffing out of me. I want to crawl into the corner and wail. After all, my heart hurts and self pity is fun. Ask Eyeore.

But when I stop and face the truth, I realize no matter how I "feel" I need to face the truth without discounting said feelings. And the truth is, I am not a victim unless I allow myself to be.

I have moments where I replay in my head something stupid I did and can't take back. One of my big time regret moments was when I was in my early 20's. I was out in the country at my grandparents farm with my future husband and brother. We were trying to catch frogs by holding extremely still and waving little red flag with hooks in front of bullfrogs. My brother was a young teenager and was having immense fun antagonizing me. This went on for an hour or so and finally, I told him to get the bleep out of there and leave us alone. Which he did. Probably 30 minutes passed and I heard him calling to me from behind the grass where I couldn't see him. I was waving my little red flag in front of a particularly large bullfrog when my brother came careening out of the grass shouting "Margaret! Margaret!" And plop, the frog disappeared into the water.

I literally saw red. I was already frustrated with him and doggonit, it was time to tell him. Which I did. With one particularly colorful four letter word. And when I was done I heard a truck pull away and noticed that my grandma and several of my young cousins were with my brother and had all heard my tirade.

I was humiliated. And I've never really forgiven myself. My grandma didn't berate me or say anything mean. She only said, "Margaret, I'm dissapointed." I can still see her sad face and feel my brokenness. An apology can't take back the bad word or the sentiment behind it, even if it was directed at my goofy brother. But the guilt reaches out through the years and hurts my heart to this day.

We all do foolish things now and again but for some reason it is really difficult for me to let go of the guilt. I do this with food too. If I indulge in my favorite chocolate cake and then can't stop eating it, I will feel guilty for a week. There is some part of me that insists on doing penance for the wicked action. My guilt reflex is completely ridiculous but if there was a magnifying glass for my heart one would see the scars from the many times I have given myself 40 lashes plus one.

I was standing in the hall today dwelling on a more recent blunder when I realized I had better things to do than stand around feeling sorry for myself. First of all, if I spend time concentrating on my foolish behavior it takes away from my work. I was very busy today and literally did not have time to dwell on it.

So I stood up tall, clutched my laptop to my chest and took a deep breath. "No more!" I said. "I'm better than this. No more self pity. Time to pick up the pieces and move on." And then a coworker walked by and looked at me funny and I pretended they hadn't just heard me talking to myself.

Today if you feel guilty for something you did wrong, let it go. It does no good to hang onto it. Suck some fresh air into your lungs and let it all go while you exhale. You'll feel better. I promise.

Now I'm going to call my grandma and make sure I'm forgiven for inadvertantly cussing her out 17 years ago. Because whether I meant to or not, I know it hurt her heart and I've hung onto it for 17 years too long.

And thanks Sheryl. It's nice to be forgiven.

Fighting the War Inside

Switchfoot has a song on their CD "Vice Verses" called "The War Inside." This song resonates with me because of the constant struggle I face living a healthy lifestyle. (To eat or not to eat, that is the question).

The chorus says,

I am the war inside.

I am the battle line.

I am the rising tide.

I am the war I fight

The worst adversary I will ever face is myself. I know all my weaknesses. I know how to talk myself into and out of anything. I know the truth behind every lie, no matter how small. I know exactly how many steps come between success and failure. I know the point at which I break, and I face all of this before I even begin to deal with external stimuli.

I don't want to.

Sometimes one reaches a moment where they are faced with a task so inherently awful the war takes on a different hue. Everything I am in that moment screams to run as fast as I can to avoid coming into contact with the terribly horrible mundane task that seems utterly unimportant to everyone but my boss.

When I say I didn't want to do it, I mean to say I would rather light myself on fire and face the possibility of permanent scarring if only to gain an excuse to get out of it. The enormity of said task sent me spiraling through the black hole of my conscious mind as I contemplated all the real life ways to get out of it.

1) Feign illness. After all, just thinking about the task made my head ache and my stomach churn.

2) Make excuses. I am a busy girl. I really don't have the time. I just drop it down the priority list.

3) Tell the truth: I don't want to do it.

All of these choices are problematic. The first and second only delay the inevitable. The last subjects my position to instability. After all, if I tell my boss I don't want to do my job he might tell me he will find someone else to do it. And since I actually enjoy my paycheck it's not a wise move. What to do? How one responds to such a dilemma usually defines how one is perceived in the workplace. You see, there are underperformers and overachievers. So the question really is this, which one do I want to be?

As this realization hit me I became very frustrated and made the only choice that felt legitimate: I went to lunch.

Procrastination works for me. It gives me time to sort out my feelings. It may sound silly, but the truth is adults must do mundane tasks if they want to keep their jobs. And while most days I enjoy the freedom adulthood provides there is always the occasional moment wherein I am reminded that I am nothing more than an indentured servant. I serve the company I work for. In return for this service they pay me wages. I use these wages to put food on the table and do fun things like buying gas for a nice long trip to the country. Completing boring tasks makes that possible and therefore there really is only one choice, just do it and get it over with.

The problem this time was the particular task was giving me so much heartburn I actually began to contemplate quitting my job. Then despair set in. Hunting for a new job is such a pain and the new job would probably have mundane tasks too. And then I began to cry. I am such a baby.

As I made the slow trek to heat up my lunch I did the only thing that made sense, I began to pray. I don't pray because I'm particularly holy. I pray because honestly, I want God to swoop down from the heavens, and deliver me from whatever miserable circumstance I’m in. And yes, while He’s at it I’d like him to heap treasure chests full of gold at my feet. He is rich after all and being independently wealthy would solve a lot of my problems. It’s true, sometimes my prayers feel a lot like playing the God lottery. I’m always hoping to hit it big.

Today while begging for deliverance from the terrible task these words came to mind. "Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think"(Ephesians 3:20).

In that moment of comprehension, I was fully aware that God knows my need and is fully capable of meeting it. Not only that, he is able to do far more than I could even think to ask for. This realization felt like a big warm hug from my Heavenly Father. Rich people have financial security but don't always have peace. God provided something better to me in that moment than money, love.

After lunch I sat down and began work on the task. I won't lie, it was horrible. Three long dreadful hours of analyzing information and translating it into something legible. But God was with me in it and helped me do it to the best of my ability. You see, sometimes God knows what we really need is for him to cheer from the sidelines while we work out our salvation. That doesn't mean it's easy. But what child doesn't perform better with his parent watching. The child knows he has support. Sometimes our hope simply comes from knowing we are not alone.

I am the war inside. I am the battle line. I am the rising tide. I am the war I fight.

This scenario would play out much differently if I chose not to complete the task. I will be honest, a few years ago I would have begged out and made an excuse. But my journey to better health has taught me not to give up even when circumstances are miserable. I have something I didn't have before, personal accountability. I know that even when no one is watching, I am personally responsible for my behavior. In a society where everyone is obsessed with status, good looks, and success, who I am on the inside makes tremendous difference in not only my own life, but the lives of those around me. That is why the choices we make are important. We might think no one is watching, but everyone is watching. And even if they aren't, we know our actions have repercussions, if only for ourselves.

Who can’t relate to losing the will to continue down a difficult path? Everyone knows it takes discipline to reach a goal because there will inevitably come a point in time when you want to quit. In order to succeed you must take the necessary action even if it involves facing your worst fears. Sometimes your adversary is not even your worst fear; it is simply the mundane task that demands to be completed. Today I encourage those reading these words to face the difficult moment and choose to overcome it. It may be resisting a piece of chocolate cake when your body is screaming to be satiated with it. It may be choosing to forgive the cruel words carelessly tossed at you by someone you love. It may be deep sorrow or despair. Take courage in the knowledge that if you cry out to God he hears you. Even better, He will help you by meeting your need even if it is in a way you never expected.

Walking Through the Wasteland

It should be evident by this point that I dropped off the grid for a week. And while I'm not sure anyone noticed, I thought I'd acknowledge it. I've been on a journey of sorts, what you might call walking through the wasteland. I have tried analyzing it, tried to explain it(via diet or exercise) and I can't come up with a definitive reason why. What I do know is this, on Tuesday of last week I woke up feeling healthy and alive and generally good. When I woke up Wednesday morning I felt as if I had passed into shadow.

Let me elaborate. I couldn't get out of bed because I was very tired. So I didn't work out and barely made it to work. I couldn't concentrate. I felt sad, but I didn't know why. There was no trouble at home, no particular challenge at work, other than the usual stress, and no overarching familial malaise. I couldn't make a decision without intense concentration and even then, many things fell through the cracks. I struggled with basic tasks, picking out clothes, making my lunch and even going to sleep.

I tried rationalizing diet(I ate a small ice cream cone Tuesday night and thought maybe there were some offensive chemicals in it that were eating at my insides) I even thought maybe I was exercising too much and needed to rest(which I did). But the days continue to drag on and I feel no better than I did last Tuesday, except for the occasional coffee induced uptick in mood.

It is during these moments I begin to ponder the question many of us ask when depression, illness or catastrophe fall into our laps, why?

It is the great question of suffering, why must I endure it? I don't want to sound melodramatic. Just because I don't feel well I am obviously doing a lot better than say, Joni Eareckson Tada who is paralyzed from the neck down and fighting cancer. But I don't want to oversimplify it either. I feel as if I am pressed into the earth by a large rock and no way to remove it. So how do I escape?

This depression is not new to me. I have endured it many times over the years. It comes and goes like the seasons. I am grateful that I understand my body more now than I did even 5 years ago. I used to lash out at everyone around me, blaming whoever was closest for my suffering. The main difference between then and now is that I recognize the signs and am able to formulate my responses to them.

In truth, I have been too exhausted to think much less write out my thoughts-which is why I haven't posted here. I was too busy trying to decide what to purchase for my 16 year old son on the occasion of his 16th birthday. We are on a limited budget and I could not afford his number one pick. And this is where the going got really tough.

When I feel this bad, the only thing that makes me feel better is food. To make matters worse it was suddenly birthday season; my husband's birthday on 1/28 and then my oldest on 2/4. As a sugar fiend and self-described food addict I began to contemplate all manner of self-indulgence and how that would help me feel better. The thing is, I know something else I didn't know a few years ago: trying to eat my pain away doesn't work. So I fell to my last resort: prayer.

Saturday morning it took me an hour to get dressed to go walk outside. It was gray and cold and felt like hell. I didn't want to do it but I walked anyway. As I walked I prayed and asked God to help me keep moving, to not give up, to not give in to my flesh in a carnal way. And then I asked for sunshine and blue sky. I have to tell you, at 9:00am on Saturday morning there was no sunshine and no blue sky. It was as January as January gets(minus sleet and snow). And then I quite literally turned a corner(from Calverton Road to Florissant Road) and saw shadows in the shape of trees on the ground. I looked up and felt warm sunshine on my face, even though the sky was still gray and cloudy. Moments later I saw a smidgeon of blue behind the clouds and then glory in the form of full sunshine and more blue sky than gray. So maybe I'm crazy, and maybe I'm a dreamer, but I began to cry because in that moment all I could think about was that even though I felt sad and shaky and gray inside, God had opened the clouds and poured out His love for me in the form of sunshine and blue skies. That moment of glory filled me with the knowledge that I wasn't alone.

The depression did not miraculously lift. I never did find a gift for my son. My mom made the cake and threw the party. But I am still filled with that moment of grace.

There are people in this world who would tell me I am nuts. They might say there is no God, that sunshine and blue skies were forecasted, and I'm a Bible thumping fundamentalist. I won't dispute them. We all have our own belief system. But I will say this, I know in my heart I have a friend who loves me enough to shine rays through my darkness, to envelope me with love more tangible than touch, and to fill me with hope so sweet I can taste it on my tongue. And because of that love(which speaks truth to my heart), I was able to resist 3 cakes, peanut m&m's, cookies, various chips and snacks on four separate occasions over the past week. And though I limp(emotionally), I am still walking.

The only reason I share all of this is because I felt maybe it would encourage others who deal with similar issues. We all have something we struggle with whether it be sugar, physical pain or grief. To that person I say this, there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother and I hope one day you experience the kind of comfort I received Saturday morning.

For those who love scripture, I share these words that I have been listening to while I walk.

Ephesians 3:14-20

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.