If I were to make a list of my biggest pet peeves, which would be an admittedly – and embarrassingly – long list, unsolicited advice would easily make the top five. I’m not sure why exactly, but there are many possibilities. For one thing, it just feels so damn condescending (which also ranks high on my list). Why are you assuming that you know more than me, or that I need or want you to bless me with your knowledge? It also feels disrespectful, like you are inserting yourself into an area of my life where you weren’t invited. It is crossing a possibly invisible, but very real, boundary. I think the biggest reason though is that it makes me feel like you didn’t hear me. I think what I want, what most of us want, is to be listened to. How much listening can you be doing if you’re just planning out what kind of advice you’re going to give once I stop talking? If I need to vent, if I need a sounding board, I need just that: to get the words out. To have someone listen. To have someone hear me. To have someone sit with me in the muck and the mire, and let me know I’m not alone. What I do NOT need (unless I expressly asked for it) is for you to try to fix it. There are doctors and therapists and any number of other professionals to help me fix things. 99 times out of 100 what I want from you, as a friend, is to just be there.
I recently started being more vocal about this boundary to see if it would change anything. One of my favorite TikTokers likes to say, “I am not accepting comments on xyz.” And then she follows through. When I post something on Facebook that I think will garner unsolicited advice, I will preface by saying something along the lines of “I’m not looking for advice”, or “thank you for not giving advice.” And it helps … somewhat. I find that I get a lot more supportive comments, and a lot less advice. Though there are still plenty that ignore my ask and give advice anyway, I keep my feed (and my mental health) intact by simply deleting. There was a time I would have AGONIZED over this. Agonized over the comment, agonized over how to respond to it, agonized over deleting it. But now I just delete and moved on. For one thing, they came into my virtual living room and literally did something I asked them not do, and for another I have the right – the responsibility even – to protect my space and my sanity by getting rid of things that don’t serve me.
And listen. I get it. 90% of the people who are offering their advice are probably coming from a very good place. They genuinely want to help. But is it really helping anyone if the person doesn’t WANT your help? Hint: It’s not.
I very rarely ask for advice. Very rarely. And when I do, I will say the actual words: “Can I get your advice?” And if I do ask for your advice, it means I trust you completely, something that I don’t do easily. Ironically, the last time I asked someone for advice, my problem was so befuddling that she literally had no advice to give. But she knows I’m open to it, and I know she’ll come back to me if inspiration strikes.
I think it would go a long way in our interactions with others if we simply asked what others needed. “Do you want advice, or do you just want to vent?” I would appreciate the hell out of someone who asked me that. I would feel honored, and respected, and HEARD.
It seems like it’s very accepted in our society to give unsolicited advice. People want to help, and they want to fix. They so desperately want to fix. But what if it wasn’t the norm? What if we did something different? What if, when faced with a friend or coworker or loved one with a problem, we just…. listened? We let them know we were there? We let them know they were not alone? We let them know they could tell us if there was a way we could help?
The pursuit of thinness is all around us. Whether it’s you, or a friend, or a loved one, or a coworker, or a random connection on Facebook, right now you likely know several people who are trying to lose weight. As a society, we love weight loss. We live for weight loss. People are heaped with praise as they lose. I am on a Facebook group for my gym, and recently saw before and after pictures from someone’s weight loss journey. She was very proud to have dieted and exercised her way from a size six to a size zero, and she was universally lauded in the comments. It’s as if the thinner you get, the better. While everyone has full autonomy to do what they’d like with their bodies, weight loss is not something I celebrate (Note: It’s not something I denigrate either) Here are a few reasons why:
Smaller bodies aren’t inherently better than bigger bodies
I know. Society tells us otherwise, but body sizes are neutral. Smaller is not “better.” People are meant to come in different shapes and sizes. Complimenting weight loss implies that there was something wrong with their larger body, and that they’re now improved in some way. People like to argue that smaller bodies are healthier bodies, and while certain individuals may improve certain conditions with weight loss, you have no way of knowing someone’s health status just by looking at them. Unless you have access to their medical records and bloodwork, you can’t make assumptions about a person’s health by seeing their body. If you could, all large people would be unhealthy, and all small people would be healthy. That’s simply not the case. Larger people can be healthy. Smaller people can be unhealthy. There is no “better” when it comes to body size.
I may not be complimenting what I think I’m complimenting
This is perhaps one of the biggest reasons I don’t default to compliments. We usually have no way of knowing how or why someone lost weight. I know far too many people who lost or are maintaining weight loss through starvation or other disordered behaviors. They should be given empathy and compassion to be sure, but not praise. Weight loss can come from a calorie deficit, but it can also come from:
Illness
Grief
Depression
Anxiety
Stress
Disordered behaviors or eating disorders
What exactly are we doing when we praise weight loss in these situations? “Sorry you’re grieving, but hey! At least you lost weight.” I recently saw a post from a blogger I follow. She posted a selfie and acknowledged that she’d lost weight due to grief and stress. She’d recently experienced a death in the family, and was going through a difficult divorce. Most comments were kind and supportive, but one man said simply, “You look great! Keep it up!” Trauma, in any of its forms, is not something to celebrate.
It’s likely temporary
There are zero randomized control studies that show a sustained weight loss beyond two years after a diet. Yes, there are exceptions, but the vast majority of people will gain back the weight they lost. Diets don’t work. Weight fluctuates, especially when you get on a cycle of yo-yo dieting. I don’t like to think of people getting heaped with praise when they lose weight, then met with… silence… when they gain it back. As though their smaller body was better and praise-worthy, while their larger body is something to be ashamed of (see point number one).
We shouldn’t be commenting on bodies at all
Just as a general, blanket statement: We should all stop commenting on people’s bodies, even when we think we’re being complimentary. First, bodies are all different, and are meant to be different. Even if you and I did the exact same workouts and ate the exact same foods, you’d never have a body like mine, and I’d never have a body like yours. Bodies are meant to be different. Second, we have no idea what kind of insecurities and feelings someone has about their body and the way it looks. Judgemental and unkind comments obviously hurt, but innocent and well-intentioned comments can hurt too. They can also trigger or encourage unhealthy behaviors, and further things such as eating disorders. Finally, bodies are superficial. They say literally nothing about who we are as people. The safest, and kindest, option is to stop. Stop commenting when someone is thin. Stop commenting when someone is fat. Big boobs, small boobs, tall, short. Just stop.
There are far more interesting things to compliment
Weight is boring. I would much rather tell you how kind you are, or how funny, or smart, or strong. Those are the things that matter. I want to tell you that you’re a good friend, or an amazing mother, or a talented artist. If we absolutely must compliment appearances, what about the great new haircut, or the pretty manicure, or the new dress with pockets.
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I want people to be healthy and happy. I want people to be healthy and happy so much that I’m going to school to learn how to help people to do exactly that (a Health Sciences degree, following a Psychology degree). Does weight loss automatically = health and happiness? No. But being a healthy weight for YOU, one that makes you comfortable and strong, able to live the life you want to live, and do the things you want to do, goes a long way.
Christmas is in six days. The shopping is done. This week I’ll bake cookies and clean the house and get food and wrap presents.
And I’m not especially happy. I enjoy certain aspects of the holidays to be sure, and I’m privileged in a lot of ways. But seasonal depression gets me every year, and my baseline in December tends to be mild to moderate depression no matter what I do. I’m tired (I never sleep), and I’m stressed. I pretty much try to just keep breathing, put one foot in front of the other, and get from now till New Years in one piece.
And I know I’m not alone.
On social media we’re bombarded with the happy, happy, happy, and the glowing twinkly lights, and the magic and the music and the JOY. We’re supposed to be feeling JOY, dammit. Few people want to talk about the other side. The side where even if you’re thankful, even if you’re doing everything “right”, the holidays are just hard. Few people want to be honest about it, fearing that if they say it out loud, it would make them the Scrooge, the ungrateful one who fails to get in the holiday spirit. And I get it. I do. Every year I’m torn between strapping on my smile and faking it till I make it, or admitting that no matter how lovely it all is on the surface, it is still hard. Life is still hard.
But there’s power in admitting it. And there’s power in community. And in fact, there’s something lovely about that too. Knowing that no matter what the holiday looks like, even if it doesn’t look like a holiday at all, that this is your time, too. Knowing that someone understands. Knowing that you matter. Knowing that you’re remembered.
So if the holidays are hard for you, if you’re unhappy right now…. whether because of
lack of family
lack of support
lack of funds
illness
anxiety
depression
grief
stress…
No matter what the case may be. I see you. And I truly do wish you a gentle holiday.
Earlier this year, Candace Cameron Bure (of Full House and Hallmark channel fame) left the Hallmark channel after starring in 30 something movies. She announced she was moving to a new channel, the Great American Family network, to focus more on faith-based projects. When asked about the network’s inclusion of LGBTQIA+ storylines in an interview this week, she stated that “Great American Family will keep traditional marriage at the core.”
She was fairly swiftly called out on social media for her comments, notably from JoJo Siwa who said, “Honestly, I can’t believe after everything that went down just a few months ago, that she would not only create a movie with intention of excluding LGBTQIA+, but then also talk about it in the press. This is rude and hurtful to a whole community of people.” Actress Hilarie Burton hit back even harder, calling her a bigot, and tweeting, “That guy and his network are disgusting. You too Candy. There is nothing untraditional about same-sex couples.”
Here’s the thing. Does Great American Family have the right to make any kind of programming they’d like? Yes. Does that make it kind or right or inclusive? No. Do people have the right to be hurt by this exclusion? Absolutely! And when someone lets us know they’re hurt by our actions, the right thing to do is to acknowledge it, apologize, and try to make it right. We need to start by believing them, not by doubling down and gaslighting them into thinking that they were wrong to be hurt in the first place.
Candace’s response to the backlash (I say “response” because it was absolutely not an apology) was to first blame the media for causing division, and then make it all about herself.
It absolutely breaks my heart that anyone would ever think I intentionally would want to offend and hurt anyone. It saddens me that the media is often seeking to divide us, even around a subject as comforting and merry as Christmas movies. But, given the toxic climate in our culture right now, I shouldn’t be surprised. We need Christmas more than ever.
A large part of the “toxic climate” in our culture right now is that there is still, in 2022, animosity and discrimination towards people in the LGBTQIA+ community. And when someone in that community steps up to say they are hurt by our words and/or our actions, we need to listen, and we need to do better. It is one thing to say that we love all people, but it’s another thing entirely to act in a way that directly contradicts those words. Words without action mean absolutely nothing.
Candace Cameron Bure uses her faith as a reason to exclude people. Let me be really clear when I say that I love God, and aspire to be like Jesus… but I completely and unequivocally disagree with people like Candace. Jesus loved – both the word AND the action – all people, but he especially loved those who were marginalized by the rest of society. Jesus was a model of what it meant to include, not exclude. He was a model of what it meant to accept people… not in a “love the sinner, hate the sin” kind of way, but in a real, genuine, “I accept you for exactly who you are, with no limits and no disclaimers.” Jesus was a model of what it meant to come together: Gay, straight, black, white, Christian, atheist… and everything in between.
I don’t doubt for a second that Jesus is not wringing his hands in distress over the depiction of same-sex relationships on TV. LGBTQIA+ people exist (yes, even among the Christian community!), and their stories, like their straight counterparts, deserve to be celebrated. This December, Hallmark is actually airing its first film with a leading same-sex couple, starring Jonathan Bennett of Mean Girls fame (love him). I am thrilled to see this for a few reasons, but mainly because it means that people spoke up. People spoke up, and instead of turning it around or getting defensive or using faith as a reason to exclude…
My oldest became a teenager twelve years ago, and my youngest (of four) is now 14. We’ve been at this teen gig for awhile now. And while society’s common teenage refrain tends to be a negative one – “Just wait till your kids are teens!” – I am finding myself appreciating the teen years more and more as time goes on. Here are five things I wish someone had told me before I had teens.
1. It doesn’t have to be the battle everyone says it will be. This is a stereotype that needs to die… the sullen, rebellious teenager whose main mode of communication is rolling their eyes and slamming the door… the fights over friends and curfews and clothing choices… the disrespect, the backtalking, the “I hate you” phase. It doesn’t have to be that way. No, teens are not perfect (no age is perfect), but given respect and freedom and autonomy, the transition can be a relatively smooth one. I have thoroughly enjoyed and appreciated all four of my kids as teens, and I actually think it’s one of my favorite ages. Teens are cool. They’re fun, they’re smart (more on that later) they’re funny. No longer dependent on you to fix their snacks and put them in the bath and pack their sippy cups, you get to relate to them on a whole new level. It takes some patience – there’s a whole lot of growth and big changes happening all at once – but if you can navigate the teen years as their partners instead of their adversaries, it is so, so worth it. Teens are awesome.
2. It’s okay to be their friend. I have written several times about being friends with your kids (you can read two of them here and here), but I think it’s never more important than it is when they are teenagers. Your teens need a good, faithful friend. Someone they can rely on. Someone they can come to with good news and bad. Someone who will give them honest advice. Someone who will listen, unconditionally. Someone they can laugh with, play with, have conversations with. Being a teen can be hard, but you can be their soft place to fall. Same age peers sometimes come and go, but you get the privilege of being a constant, someone they can count on no matter what. I credit a lot of different factors for having a good relationship with my teens, but being their friend is near the top of the list.
3. They’re like big toddlers. I mean this in the best possible way, so hear me out. One of the things I find most endearing and fascinating about toddlers is the way they are straddling two worlds. One moment they are still your baby, and the next they are strongly asserting their big kid independence. “I do it myself!” is a refrain that’s familiar to anyone who’s ever had a toddler. They are learning about testing their own limits, and about stepping out of their comfort zone. They’re learning about how good it feels to make some decisions on their own, and test of the waters of autonomy. At the same time, they have the safety and comfort of knowing they can be back in your arms at any time, and that you’re still their protector if life gets overwhelming or scary. Teenagers are the exact same way. They’ve got one foot firmly in adulthood, while the other is still a child that sometimes needs to seek the safety and familiarity of Mom. Both are valid, and both are okay. I love seeing both of these sides of my teens, and I’ve learned to be flexible as I never know which one I’m going to get. One minute they’re making big decisions about college and jobs and who to vote for in the upcoming election, and the next they’re letting us hold their hand while they cry. I am here for all of it.
4. There will be times they are smarter than you. There’s a stereotype that says that teens think they “know everything.” And while nobody knows everything, today’s teens are smart! I’ve learned that I sometimes need to humble myself enough to defer to them, and to recognize that sometimes they know more than I do. Whether it’s current events, how to handle a complicated social situation, or the ins and outs of that fancy new app, I am constantly learning from my teens. It would be counter productive and disengenuous to assume that I always know best just because I’m older. Kids, especially teens, know so much more than they’re given credit for. It is a pleasure and a privilege to be able to learn both with them and from them.
5. It will hurt when they move out. Two years ago, our then-20-year-old decided to move out and get his own place with a couple of friends. A year later he got married. And yes, we’d raised him to be confident and independent. He was ready. We were ready. But… it hurt. I wish someone had warned me how much it would take my breath away when he moved out. That as happy as I’d be for him, that a part of me would also have to mourn and grieve. While you’ll always be mom and dad, the dynamic changes completely once they’re out on their own. They’re working, they’re doing their own shopping and their own laundry, they’re making their own plans, they’re seeking their own healthcare. You’ve given them their wings, and your role as their parents is more different than it’s ever been. I am so thankful for the close relationship that we still have, one that has transitioned from a child and caregiver role, to one that’s respectful of his new independent adult life. I’m glad he still comes home, I’m glad he still texts us with news, I’m glad he still enjoys accompanying us out to eat and to ball games and to escape rooms. But the parenting landscape completely changes once they move out, and once you’re done grieving you have to be flexible enough to change with it.
Having and raising teens is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. I’m more proud of my teens (and young adults!) than I’ve ever been of anything in my entire life. Parenting teens is not always easy, but very few things in life are. Some days are hard. But is it worth it? To check your ego at the door, and accept and respect your teens for all their complicated, constantly growing and changing perfectly imperfect glory? Yes. Yes. A million times, yes.
There’s a post making the rounds on Facebook about eight things the author believes are battles worth fighting (re: things he believes you should force them to do.) It came from a twitter post by a man named David Morris, and you can read the whole thread here.
As with most mainstream advice, I disagreed, and what follows is his list along with why I choose to do it differently.
Standard disclaimer: I don’t know the author, and this post is not about him but rather about the ideas he espouses. I don’t believe in picking battles with my kids, most especially not the eight things listed below. I would far rather live in harmony with them, show them through my words and actions what kind of person I want to be, and by extension what I hope for them and their lives as well.
I will not “battle” over any of the following:
Reading – Mr Morris believes you should make your kids read. To be fair, a lot of people believe you should make your kids read. But why? And I say this as an avid fan of reading. Reading is a tool, like any other. It’s a useful tool, to be sure. Reading opens the door to information, imagination, and inspiration. But it’s just one tool. There are many others. Some people like to watch videos. Some people like to listen to podcasts. Some people like to get hands on instruction. All are useful. All are valid options. Reading is not inherently more laudable than any other tool at our disposable. I have four kids, and they all have different relationships with reading. Some read for pleasure, some read for information, some read the news, some read fanfic. All are okay, all are acceptable. I refuse to be a reading snob.
Goingoutside – Make your kids go outside, he says. There they will find “discovery, wonder, peace, and joy,” and we need to make them go outside to find it. And absolutely, there are great things to be had in going outdoors. Hiking in the desert is one of my all time favorite things to do. But no one ever found peace in being forced to do something. No one ever found joy in a choice that was foisted on them by someone else. Going outside is one option of many. As with any activity that I enjoy, I might share, invite, and even encourage my kids to join me. But I would never force.
Work – None of my kids have ever been forced to do chores around the house, but they have all helped anyway. Why? Because we’re a family, and we work together. When I’ve wanted or needed help, I simply asked. (And when I say I asked, I literally ASKED. They had the option to say no.) Nine times out of ten, they happily helped. And that ten percent? The times they were busy or tired or simply not in the mood? There are times I’m busy or tired or not in the mood too. It’s part of being a human. As for translating into a work ethic in the real world: My 21 year old got his first full-time job about a year ago. He worked hard, was always on time, and was promoted to manager in less than a year. My 14 year old recently got a job of her own volition too. She works hard, is always on time, and has received nothing but praise from her manager and co-workers. I think they’re doing okay.
Eating meals together – This is a little weird to me. In our house, we do usually eat dinner together. The exceptions would be when someone is working, sleeping, playing a game they can’t/don’t want to break from, or some seasons when sports or activities made our schedule wonky. But we have plenty of friends who rarely eat dinner together, because life or preferences dictate otherwise, and they find other ways to connect and come together. There are lots of opportunities for sharing and connection in 24 hours. There’s nothing magical about sitting around a dinner table at a certain time.
Boredom – Make your kids live with boredom, Morris tells us, because they need unscheduled time. While I definitely agree that there is value to be had in unscheduled time, there is nothing wrong with helping a bored child find something to do. My kids rarely complain about being bored (because they too see the value in unscheduled time), but when they do we brainstorm together. Want to play a game? Watch a movie? Go for a walk? Sometimes boredom leads to other activities, creativity, and enjoyment, sometimes it leads to downtime, and sometimes it leads to nothing more than sitting in the boredom for awhile. Either way, it’s just another feeling to be had and dealt with, and certainly not something worthy of a battle.
Making your kids go last – The idea behind this one is that we challenge the “me first” attitude that he claims most kids are plagued with. We need to let them know that “the world doesn’t revolve around them,” because “most kids will elevate themselves above all others.” Wow, did this ever make me sad. What a mean-spirited and pessimistic way to look at children. What I’ve observed in my own children and their friends is the exact opposite. They are some of the most selfless and giving people I know. And you know how to raise selfless and giving kids? By being selfless and giving! By showing them what it looks like to put others first, not last. By treating them they way you’d like to be treated. I wouldn’t deliberately put anyone else I love last just to teach them a lesson, so why would I do it to my kids? I want my kids to see me caring for others, taking care of the people around me, being mindful of other people’s needs. And the best place to start is in the home, with them. As for the “me first” attitude, caring for yourself is important, too. The beauty of instilling a sense of kindness and compassion in your kids is that it extends to themselves too. They learn the importance of taking care of others, and the importance of self-care as well. Kids who are confident and feel good about themselves want others to feel good, too. It is a win-win.
Awkward conversation – Sure, I’ve had awkward conversations with my kids, just as I’ve had awkward conversations with other family, friends and loved ones. It’s just a part of life. It’s important to communicate, and sometimes communication is awkward, or difficult, or uncomfortable. But the kind of conversations he is talking about – sex, dating, body image, values – are conversations that are born out of an open and honest relationship, not something that is forced or put upon them against their will. My goal is to keep an open line of communication with my kids, so that they know they can come to me with questions, concerns, or just to talk something through. I’ve found the best way to do that is by first listening, not talking. Yes, there are, and will continue to be, times where they need to hear my words. But listening comes first, not the other way around.
Limitations – Ah yes, limits! A favorite of mainstream parenting advocates. We’re told “screen time limits, dietary limits, activity limits, and schedule limits are all good.” And don’t get me wrong. Limits are important. We all operate under a certain set of limits. But the limits that work for us, the limits that feel comfortable and doable, are instrinic limits, not limits forced on us by other people. It’s true of adults, and it’s true of children. The rub lies in trusting, partnering, and helping our children when it comes to limits, rather than imposing limits from our own arbitrary toolbox. What works for one child may be completely different for another. There are as many solutions to the question of limits as there are people. To use a few of his examples: diet, activity, and schedule are nothing if not personal. When given a supportive hands-on parent, and the freedom to do so, children learn to trust their bodies, their brains, and their own internal cues to tell them when they’ve had enough… whether it’s video games, sleep, or Flaming Hot Cheetos. Helping our children recognize and create their own limits results in balanced, healthy lives. Forcing children against their will results in resentful kids that will rebel as soon as they get the chance.
My primary goal when it comes to my kids is to treat them with kindness, respect, and the same amount of care I’d show anyone else I love. These relationships are the most meaningful I will ever have, and are not something I take for granted. Choosing force over partnership, and control over trust has no part in a healthy relationship… including, and especially, when it comes to my kids.
When I was around 16, I went on a date with an older classmate. I’ll call him Scott. Scott was a senior and I was a junior, and I’d known he’d had a crush on me for awhile. I wasn’t really interested…. not for any reason I could put my finger on; I guess he just wasn’t my type. He seemed nice enough though, and when he asked me to go to a movie, I reasoned that maybe I’d get to know him better and my feelings would change. In hindsight, I probably should have thanked him for the invite and declined, but I didn’t. So I went on a date with him and I wasn’t interested.
I don’t remember the movie we saw (which is weird, because I usually remember details like that), but I do remember that he put his arm around me at some point. A few minutes later, he asked if I was comfortable, and I answered truthfully that I was not. Physically, mentally… I just wasn’t comfortable. He kept his hands to himself after that.
All told, my discomfort lasted the entirety of the date. We chatted after the movie, and the whole ride home, but I just wasn’t feeling it. He mostly talked about himself during the drive, and I found myself bored and irritated. I felt bad about it. I had said yes to the date after all.
When we got back to my house he walked me to the door. We exchanged pleasantries, and he thanked me for going out with him. Then he leaned in to kiss me, and I….. stepped out of the way. He looked surprised, then asked me, “Can’t I kiss you goodnight?” Without thinking, and with great embarrassment, I answered, “I’d rather you didn’t.” I’m pretty sure we BOTH wanted the earth to swallow us up at that moment. But I didn’t want him to kiss me. I didn’t want him to kiss me a little bit. I didn’t want him to kiss me at all. So I said no.
To his credit, he mumbled something like, “okay,” and simply walked back to his car. (He then proceeded to go back to school and tell all his friends that he didn’t like me anymore because I was too “slow.” These things get back to you when you’re in highschool.)
I’ve been thinking about Scott ever since I read this article about a school that required all students at school dances to say yes when they were asked to dance. I found that policy to be unconscionable for many reasons, the least of which being that people (boys and girls both, regardless of age) have the right to say no. They have the right to say no to being touched, to being talked to, to doing anything that they feel uncomfortable with. What on earth kind of message are we sending our young people if we’re literally requiring them to say yes, perhaps against their will? What kind of precedent is that setting for the future when the stakes are higher? When the ask isn’t a 3.5 minute long dance, but an unwanted kiss, or touch, or sexual encounter?
One of the most powerful – and important – words in the English language is no. It’s important for our safety, our security, our autonomy, our happiness. It’s important for our confidence, for us to feel empowered by our choices, and to know that we are worth putting first. The word no reminds us that we are the ones in charge, no matter who is making the request, and that we have unconditional permission to set the boundaries we need to set to keep ourselves safe and comfortable. We have the right to say no. We have the right to say yes and then change our minds. We have the right to opt out of doing anything that we don’t fully and enthusiastically consent to.
I want my kids to know that “no” is a complete sentence, whether the request is a kiss, a dance at the prom, or any activity that they feel uncomfortable with. I want them to know that they are the only ones who get to decide who touches them or interacts with them, and how, and when, and for what reason. I want them to know that they shouldn’t feel bad or guilty for saying no, and that how the other person reacts isn’t their problem. I want them to know that anytime they are asked to do something that doesn’t sit right with them – whether it comes from a boss, a friend, or that cute boy in their chem class – that “no” is one of the strongest tools they have at their disposal.
My cheeks still flush when I think of that almost-kiss. It was just so embarrassing. But if I could go back to my 16 year old self and do it all over again, would I make the same decision? Yes.
A couple weeks ago, I was in a fitting room trying on some jeans and t-shirts. Spinning around and looking in one of those from-every-angle mirrors, I saw something I’d never noticed before.
I have back fat.
I just stared at it for awhile, this prominent little roll beneath my bra. “Huh. That’s new.” And the prevailing feeling was not one of dismay or disgust, but one of gratitude. I was grateful that I discovered this now, rather than a few years ago. A few years ago it would have unraveled me, and rendered me something just short of a weeping mess on the floor of the fitting room.
I’ve gained some 40 pounds in the past 4 years. Partly from age and a changing metabolism, partly from medication, and partly because I made a conscious decision to stop starving myself into a size six. I had trouble with the weight gain at first. I had trouble accepting it, trouble viewing myself as attractive, trouble thinking I was still worthy, and trouble thinking I was somehow “less than” than when I was residing in a smaller body.
I did the diets, did the exercise, and essentially tried to hate myself into a smaller jean size. I would lose weight temporarily, but eventually gain it back, plus a little more for good measure. (This seems a good a time as any to mention that that’s just the way diets work. The vast, vast majority – some sources say as much as 95% – of people who lose weight through dieting will gain it back, often gaining more than they lost in the first place. Diets don’t work long term.) My body just wanted to be bigger. Which meant that I could 1) Continue to fight with it, make myself miserable, and live in a constant cycle of shame, or 2) Learn to embrace it, to love myself and body exactly as they are, and to focus on gentle nutrition and regular movement as measures of self-care instead of punishment.
I chose option 2.
It’s been a journey to get here to be sure, and I’d be lying if I said I was 100% comfortable taking the photo that accompanies this post, but I am light years ahead of where I was. It would not be an exaggeration to say that my shift in mindset has been life changing.
Because I do love my body. Back fat and belly rolls and muffin tops and all. My body does everything I need it to do. It takes me on walks. It treks through the desert. It runs up and down the stairs fifty times a day. It does yoga and lifts weights and moves any way I ask it to move.
I eat food for nourishment, not to shrink my body. I eat in ways that make me feel pleasant, physically and emotionally both. I don’t count calories. I don’t stress out about macros. I eat foods that feel good in the moment. I eat plenty of protein, carbs and fats. I eat salads and chicken and veggies and warm chocolate chip cookies and birthday cake. I eat when I’m hungry, and I stop when I’m full. I refuse to go back down the road of obsessive control over what I eat or how I move, what the scale says or how my pants fit. I refuse to let the words of the multi-billion dollar diet industry become part of my vernacular, or part of my soul. I’m opting out.
My relationship with food and with my body, once disordered and antagonistic, has healed. My body is perfect the way it is. It is healthy and strong. It is capable of so many things. It is beautiful. Beauty (and health for that matter) comes in all shapes and sizes, and don’t let any “before and after” photos tell you otherwise.
And while I’m on the subject of before and after pictures, we have to stop commenting on people’s bodies, even if we think we’re being complimentary. We have no idea how or why someone lost weight or gained weight, and we have no idea what we may be praising. Thin is not the gold standard. Thin is not “better.”
If you want to aim for something, aim for health. (Hint: health doesn’t have one singular “look.”) Thin bodies can be healthy. Larger bodies can be healthy.
Beyond all that though? Our bodies and our weight are literally the least interesting things about us. Yes, our bodies are worthy. They are worthy of existing and taking up space, exactly as they are: thin, fat, short, tall, curvy, flat… but at the end of the day, they are just pretty exteriors for our hearts and our souls.
We see it happen again and again. The topic is always different, but it goes something like this:
A brand new mom has had a rough few weeks. The baby is up all night, and mom’s exhausted. She’s struggling to find her rhythm breastfeeding. Her nipples are sore. Her body feels like a stranger’s. It’s been days since she’s had a proper shower, and postpartum depression is circling in the background. She’s overwhelmed.
She logs her sleep-deprived self into Facebook, and pens her lament, just hoping for a little bit of support. And she does get support. But before too long, she inevitably also gets:
“Try doing it with twins.”
“Just wait until you have a toddler AND a newborn.”
“At least you’re not working.”
“Just be thankful your son is healthy.”
Suddenly this poor mom isn’t being supported anymore, but shamed instead. Others have it worse. SHE could have it worse. She should be grateful. She shouldn’t complain. She shouldn’t have feelings. Certainly not negative ones. And if God forbid she does have them, she shouldn’t be voicing them. That’s a privilege for those who have it really bad, those who’ve earned the right to complain.
We play this cruel game of one-uppance instead of holding one another up. We extend sarcasm instead of empathy. We invalidate instead of listen.
And we’re our own worst enemies too, because if someone doesn’t do it to us first, we do it to ourselves. In this age of perma-toxic-positivity we think it’s “bad” to entertain a negative emotion. “I shouldn’t be complaining. I should be grateful. It could be so much worse. I really am lucky.” And around and around, stuffing and twisting and denying until we feel like we’re going to crack.
But people are allowed to feel things. All people. All things.
Yes, gratitude is wonderful. And yes, there will always be someone who has it worse. But neither of those things make what you’re going through any less real. Your feelings are valid. Your feelings are always valid. You’re allowed to be: tired. sad. overwhelmed. angry. hurt. grieving. And anything and everything in between.
You’re also allowed to share said feelings, and if someone minimizes you and makes it about them, that’s a them problem not a you problem. It doesn’t feel good to be invalidated when you’re vulnerable (it literally just happened to me before I started writing this), but your truth is still your truth.
And sure, it’s not a good idea to snuggle up and live in the negative feelings. The beauty of being a human is that we have access to a full range of emotions; emotions that are constantly ebbing and flowing. Negative emotions are almost always eventually replaced with positive ones. But dang, some seasons are just plain HARD. Some days … some weeks … some months … some years… Sometimes life is hard.
You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Your friends are allowed to feel their feelings. It’s not a competition about who has it worse. When someone trusts us enough to invite us in to their heartaches, it’s our job to support, to lean in, to encourage, to just sit with them in the middle of the muck and the mire….
NOT disrespect them by telling them why they shouldn’t be feeling that way in the first place.
Yesterday, I posted this meme on my Facebook page. I think it’s important to make the dangers of spanking an ongoing discussion, so I never hesitate to share resources when I come across them.
The very first comment said this: (*edited for grammar and punctuation.)
Stop trying to tell parents what to do with their children. If they’re not being abused you need to mind your own business.
Now, it stands to be said that this meme was not aimed at that woman, or at any one person in particular. It was about the concept of spanking. If you read a meme like that, and feel defensive or angry, I’d gently suggest that you examine why. If you’re confident that your own choices are correct, why would it bother you? You don’t know me, you don’t know the meme author… what does it matter what we think?
Beyond that though, there are some fundamental flaws in this argument. First, no one is telling anyone what do to do. The meme is sharing information. What you choose to do, or not do, with that information is up to you.
Second, and far more important, is this idea of “minding your own business.” There are many, many facets of parenting in which we should mind our own business, to be sure. It’s none of my business whether you work or stay home, or how you choose to educate, or what kind of religion you practice, or how your kids dress, or what they eat, or where they sleep or whether or not you breastfeed. If they are safe and cared for, you are absolutely correct. It’s none of my business.
Here’s the thing though. Spanking is not a parenting issue. It’s a human rights issue, and we should ALL make it our business to care about human rights issues. Children have the right to be safe from harm in their own home. They have the right to bodily autonomy. They have the right to expect kind and gentle and loving discipline that does not include laying of hands on their body. Hitting should never, ever be conflated with love. There’s a reason why it’s called assault to hit another adult. Physically assaulting another person is wrong (especially when that person is young, small, and/or defenseless), and we know this.
We know this.
And I can’t help but think that people wouldn’t get so defensive about it if deep down they didn’t know it was true.
Mistreatment of marginizalized members of society (and children are about as marginalized as they come) is something that we should all care about. It’s something that we should ALL make our business. Children can’t speak for themselves, so someone has to do it for them. Spanking is harmful, and people need to know about it. And to be perfectly blunt about it, I don’t care if you don’t think it’s my business.
When we learn of fellow human beings being harmed? It’s always our business.
I'm Jen... the shy, lost girl from the east coast who married at nineteen and eventually found herself - four kids later - in the middle of the desert. I like chocolate. You can read more about me here.
A ridiculous amount of coffee is consumed in the process of writing these blog posts. If you enjoy my work, I'd be extremely grateful if you added some fuel to keep me going!
