Sometimes there’s a confluence, an influx of information that all seems to resonate. I’ve had one of those weeks.
It started with this thought:
What if, the next time you went to see your doctor, they told you that no matter what you did you would never weigh less than you do today? What if your doctor said you had some rare metabolic condition, so it was possible for you to gain weight but not to lose it. Ever. You could become fitter and better toned through exercise. You could improve your health and the appearance of your skin, hair and eyes with diet, but you could never, ever lose weight.
What would change?
My thinking around this issue started with last week’s post about The Fast Diet. While I’ve had great success with it, I think the key to sticking with it started before I read the book. I decided to love my body exactly as it was. I decided to abandon negative self-talk and criticism and to focus on what I loved about my body. At the time I was dealing with an extra six kilos as a consequence of treatment. Contrary to popular belief, cancer treatment doesn’t make everyone thin! I was also carrying the same ten kilos that I gained during my pregnancy over twenty years ago.
I can remember what triggered my shift in attitude. I saw photographs of myself from a night out with my family. I thought, “Oh no! Look how fat I am!” I had gone out feeling great and thinking I looked stylish and when I looked at these images all I could see was a huge, middle aged fat lady in a sequinned top. I cried. Then my daughter said, “Oh Mum! Please stop being so hard on yourself. Your body is fighting cancer! That’s enough for now. You can worry about your weight later.”
My daughter is very wise. This isn’t the first time she’s shifted my thinking. I realised that I’d been indulging in the worst kind of bullying. I had been speaking to myself in a way that I would never, ever speak to someone else.
I stopped beating myself up. I started noticing what I liked about my body. What I liked most of all was how aggressively my body pushed back against the cancer. During chemotherapy my doctor was amazed by my blood work. During radiation my skin held up under the onslaught and my mind pushed back against the overwhelming sense that I was now a commodity to be farmed, like a sack of potatoes on a conveyor belt. (The barcode they gave me at the clinic didn’t help.)
I kept up my yoga all through treatment and noticed the difference in my energy levels when ever I would spend time on my mat. Slowly, slowly as I recovered from treatment I found a new strength and flexibility. My yoga teacher, Emma, reminds me to “be in the body you have today” and to recognise that the body I am in tomorrow will be a different body. This was a powerful message to me when I was dealing with the long term side effects of chemotherapy, radiation and surgical removal of both breasts.
This week, Emma and I had a coffee together and she remarked on how far I’d come. I was told I’d have permanently compromised range of movement in my arms. I don’t. I was told that the arthritis they picked up in my bone scans would mean a life-long requirement for daily pain relief. It doesn’t. Lately I’m noticing how well I’m feeling.
People sometimes comment on how well I coped with the mastectomy. I suppose I just accepted it. I grieved. And then I moved on. It is what it is. I don’t look in the mirror and wish I had breasts. I look in the mirror and think about how amazing it is that I’m still alive. I think about all that my body has been through and how amazing it is that, in spite of all that, the body wants to heal. We are all programmed for good health. I will never have breasts again by my body has done everything possible to work around this massive surgery.
This week I’ve been reading articles about climate change and how, if we want people to understand that crisis, we need to talk about the kind of future we could have in a positive way. Scare tactics just send people in the opposite direction. Nobody wants to bullied or terrified.
I’ve also read an article about the sub-conscious mind and an author’s theory that it can’t understand a negative statement. His theory, essentially, is that when you say “don’t eat chocolate!” your subconscious hears “Eat chocolate!”. His cure for insomnia is to stop saying “I can’t sleep” and to start saying “When I go to bed tonight I’m going to have a deep and restful sleep” because your subconscious will agree with either statement. So if you say “I can’t sleep” your subconscious says, “Okay.”
It’s an interesting theory. Perhaps it’s even simpler. Perhaps it’s just that we all respond the same way to negativity, bullying and catastrophising. We push back.
When I made the decision to love my body exactly the way it is, it naturally followed that I wanted to feed my body well. I wanted to make sure I ate healthy food, avoided alcohol and looked for ways to maximise my chances of living a long and healthy life. I didn’t start The Fast Diet to lose weight or because I was ashamed of the way I looked. I started it because I was convinced by the research that it would help me to prevent cancer.
I’ve always considered myself a work in progress. Over the years I’ve broken bad habits (even that language is interesting), I’ve improved my mind, I’ve become more tolerant and compassionate and I’ve come to feel more and more comfortable in my own skin. Looking back, I can see that change usually happened because an idea was compelling, a truth was apparent or because someone close to me kindly and gently invited me to change. My failures have all included attempts at bullying, either internally or externally.
Nobody likes to give a bully what they want, even when they are the bully.
So I’m heading off to a yoga retreat for some self-nurturing and some time with one of the wisest people I know. We’ll eat healthy food, stretch and breathe and delight in our bodies and return home refreshed and recharged.
It seems to me that being positive has a much deeper meaning than the way it is commonly understood. If we’re going to achieve any lasting change we need to frame it in a positive way. “I will eat nourishing food” is far more powerful than “I won’t eat sugar”. “I will devote some time each day to being physically fitter” is far more powerful than “I will lose weight.” It’s a lot more enjoyable to achieve something than to avoid it.
So back to my original proposition. What if your doctor told you that you could never lose weight? I think the answer for most of us is that we would accept the diagnosis and start focusing on what we COULD do. We’d eat well and enjoy our food without self-recrimination. We’d abandon self-bullying diets and adopt the kind of eating pattern that included a few treats while emphasising sound nutrition. We’d exercise for the pleasure of it, enjoying it for its own sake without jumping on the scales to see if we’d dropped weight.
This is just a thought exercise but a lot of us have already had some practice. My breasts aren’t growing back. I have chosen not to have reconstruction, but those that have chosen it tell me that they still need to accept that their bodies will not be the same. We know that if we’re going to overcome what cancer has done to us, then acceptance and loving the body we have right now is part of it.
So this is my invitation to love your amazing, wonderful body. Think about all of the extraordinary things your body achieves every single day. Listen to the way you talk to yourself and apply this simple test; if you said that out loud to someone else, how would they respond?