Insights from a Chick Flick

Last Monday I went to go see the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You.” It made me laugh. It was not the greatest movie I’ve ever seen but definitely entertaining. The entire movie is about making the same point over and over again; if he doesn’t pursue you he isn’t interested in you. The fun part is watching what women do, creating stories to explain his lack of interest, his not calling, his not purposing. They have friends to co-sign their stories, to support them in creating elaborate explanations as to why he didn’t call or write, complete with subtext behind every word, pause and expression. I laughed because at some point, to some degree, I and just about every woman I know have been through that phase. My big high school crush, looking back I hardly knew him. That didn’t matter though, I took the small amount I did know and made up the rest to suit my 16 year old fantasy of what love should look like. The disappointment was just part of the drama I was playing out. As I got older I began finding the drama exhausting and found that taking men and everything they say at face value would save me a lot of time and energy.

The movie got me thinking though. Where else in my life have I filled in the blanks as opposed to facing an uncomfortable truth? Did I make someone else into a villain as opposed to taking personal responsibility for being in the situation in the first place? Did I blame my body for it not being in the shape I wanted it in, as opposed to taking responsibility for how I treated my body? Did I blame my family for their discouraging me from taking that job across the country, as opposed to acknowledging I was simply afraid to go?

The only way to really take control of your body, your relationships, your career, and your life is to take personal responsibility. That means no filling in the blanks, no stores, no excuses, no explanations and no sugar coating. Reality is reality. If he doesn’t call he’s not into you. Decisions I make because of someone else are not the responsibility or fault of someone else. How I eat, how much I exercise, how much I sleep is not the fault of my boyfriend, my boss or anyone outside of myself. There is freedom in truth, there is freedom in personal responsibility, and there is freedom in standing in your power and embracing a path of your choosing.

It was a silly chick flick with a great reminder message and a fair amount of giggles. I recommend it.

A Glance Backwards

What do you think she is thinking? She’s in high school…has friends but no boyfriend, likes play production, parties and football, wants to be liked…loved…approved of…and believes the only way to truly be worthy of that is to be thin. She is hoping the camera won't show how fat she is. Her big secret is that she believes because she is fat, she is unworthy of being liked, loved or approved of by the world around her. She isn't conscious of this yet but someday she will become conscious of it and then she can begin to heal.

What I know, more 20 years after that picture was taken, is it was all a lie. I grew up in Los Angeles in the 80’s and the culture definitely pushes young, thin, and pretty, above just about everything else. It’s even worse today, which might explain the growing number of young people with eating disorders and plastic surgery. It was easier as a teenager to blame my body for the insecurities of growing up, than to look at the real feelings I was experiencing and where they were coming from. In fact at 16 I didn’t have the skills and tools to deal with those feelings and I simply didn’t know better. The problem is that blaming my body for my insecurities was too easy, too convenient and habit forming. For many years avoiding my feelings also became habit and to feel better I engaged in compulsive behavior and treated my body as if it were disposable.

What I know today is that the size of my body does not determine my self-worth. Conversely, the care I take of my body does mirror my self-image. All the yo-yo diets, stop and start exercise routines and a few other less than glamorous habits, were like wearing a sign on my forehead that read, “I don’t value myself much and don’t know why you would either.”

Looking at that picture stirs up a variety emotions. Remembering how much pain I'd created for myself makes me a bit sad. Remembering the journey from there to here and the commitment required to get there makes is a source of pride. I certainly can appreciate the nostalgia of remembering a simpler time in life. Gratitude stands most of all, gratitude to the people who supported me along the way and gratitude today for the opportunity to support others on their journey.

Additionally, I'm grateful for the old friend on Facebook who posted the pictures from middle school and high school. There is no better way to gain prospective than to glace backwards a moment and acknowledge the journey.