Perfection Coins

I spent several years unraveling my motherhood knot—the jumble of questions, fears, desires, and beliefs I had about having a child. As you can imagine (or perhaps relate) this tangle had many layers but one in particular, while perhaps obvious, surprised me. Perfectionism. Or, as I’ve come to think of it: Perfection Coins.

Perfection Coins are what we amass the more in control and ‘perfect’ our life is. If our life somehow reflects a greater percentage of our personal preferences, with minimal compromise or vulnerability we are very rich in Perfection Coins. When we want something that requires risk, or change, or giving up control we have to trade in our Perfection Coins.

And why would anyone trade them in?

Because the payoff is often living a life in greater alignment with yourself, deeper intimacy with other people, more meaning, and more happiness. When we become a mother we have to trade in a lot of our Perfection Coins. For some women the cost is too high. For some women, the giving up of control, of order, of predictability is not worth it. And yet most mothers would tell you that what they trade in Perfection Coins (sleep, a clean house, clothes without stains, etc.) is paid back ten times over in love, connection, and intangible magic. And as I began to think about this in the context of motherhood it struck me that the same is true about the choice I made to give up my eating disorder and become a body-respecting intuitive eater. I traded in compliments from strangers who idealized by anorexic body, an ego high from eating ‘clean’, and so much more.

Tons of Perfection Coins given away and in return I’ve received freedom, sanity, well being, joy, ease and pleasure.

Had I known ahead of time things would work out, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But we can’t know. When we make the trade it’s done on faith. It’s always a bet taken because something else becomes more valuable than Perfection Coins. With each run of Feast my students arrive at this crossroads too. Which would they rather have: Thighs that don’t touch or sanity around food? The (false) sense of order delivered by a diet or feeling good in their own skin? The approval of judgemental family members or freedom to take up space? Being numb to life’s pain (but also numb to joy) or feeling joy, and all the other emotions too?

We can’t have both.

We can’t hold life white-knuckled, gripping to the safety of what we know and also receive the good stuff.

There are simply times when we have to make a choice, or rather, we get to make a choice. Times when we choose to stay in or leave the relationship. Times when we choose to quit or take the job. Times when we choose to tell the truth or bite our tongue.

Increasingly I choose to trade in my Perfection Coins for the messy, unknown, not-in-my-control, but deeply connected, vibrant life that calls to me. And truthfully, at the end of life I imagine that Perfection Coins aren’t worth very much.

Vanity's Other Name

A while back I went to meet my husband Justin for lunch at his office.

This particular day we met up during the peak of the lunchtime rush. After unsuccessfully scanning the cafeteria for an empty table Justin spotted a co-worker with two empty seats at his table. “Can we join you?” Justin said.

“Sure” the coworker replied moving two bowls of food out of the way. “It’s my dinner” he said referring to the two bowls, each topped with another bowl that served as a lid, “I have to eat before 6 pm.”

We nodded, not really listening, attempting a lunch date for two at this table for four.

I was able to get a few bites in before I noticed this co-worker take out a digital scale (You know, the kind a baker might use to measure flour). He then placed both of his dinner bowls on the scale, one at a time, and jotted down their weight in a small, spiral bound notebook.

We’ve got a dieter in our midst, I thought to myself.

I truly didn’t want to engage. I just wanted a nice lunch date with my guy. But, the co-worker asked me what I do (“I’m a life coach”) and then who I work with (“People, around hunger”) and we were off to the races before I knew it.

After hearing that I work in the realm of hungers he says “Sometimes I can’t sleep because I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah” I nod knowingly, having experienced the same thing when starved myself “the body prioritizes getting enough to eat over getting sleep.”

“My body just really likes to be *** pounds so I really have to starve myself to get it lower.”

“Why? Why do all this? What’s this about?” Justin inquires.

“Vanity” he chirps matter-of-factly back with a nervous smile.

No.  Nope, I think to myself, this isn’t a result of vanity.

This is a result of anxiety.

This is a result of not feeling like you’re enough, just as you are.

This is a result of a fractured relationship with your body.

Vanity is an easy scapegoat. Kind of like when we stay in bed all day and call ourselves “lazy” when what’s really going on is something much wiser, deeper, and nuanced.

Vanity is a scapegoat and I’d argue that it’s never once caused someone to go on a diet or fall prey to an eating disorder (a line this particular co-worker was teetering).

We use these behaviors to soothe our worrisome minds and to falsely bring us closer to feeling as though we are enough.

As lunch was winding down he said “I think I have that leptin disorder—the one where your brain doesn’t signal when you’re full. That's why I have to limit my intake.”

Not able to help myself I replied: “Well, it sounds like you have a history of overriding your body’s cues and keeping your weight below what your body prefers...”

“No, this diet is recent. Before this I was just paleo.” he innocently replies.

I sigh and think to myself, “What do you think eating paleo is if not a diet?”, but not wanting to engage any more I just said “Well, sounds like what you’re doing is working for you and you should probably get tested for that leptin thing” and we went on our way.

I’m sharing this story because I want to challenge you to think about how you might be mislabeling your behavior. Do you think of yourself as irresponsible with money? Materialistic or vain? What about lazy or undisciplined? Selfish? Wasteful?

Instead of so quickly dismissing your actions with these labels and instead of looking upon yourself with judgement, inquire about what’s really happening.

If you think you’re dieting because your vain, could it be that you’re anxious and dieting (or losing weight or being a certain size) is soothing? Could it be that you’re living in a world gone mad, one that tells you there is no fate worse than being fat, and you don't yet know how to be at home in your skin?

If you think that you’re careless with money, could it be that you’re afraid that you won’t have (or be) enough, and shopping (temporarily) alleviates that feeling of scarcity? or that you haven’t discovered a more soulful way of relating to your finances?

If you view yourself as lazy, could it be that you’re simply tired? or disconnected from your spark? or expecting yourself to be super-human?

Bottomline: In my experience, what we call vanity, is almost always just anxiety and the hunger to feel enough. We’re too quick to slap a one-word judgement on ourselves. In reality our behavior, when met with compassion, is rich with information about what we’re truly hungry for.

In Praise of Zoloft

Years ago, when I would run into people I hadn’t seen in a while they would often remark that while I was still myself, I was so much more relaxed and at ease than they recalled.

The reason for this is because for much of my life I lived with a base level of anxiety. For me that manifested as: vague constant dis-ease/worry, insomnia, sporadic panic attacks, being overly controlling of others (as a means to soothe myself), and an eating disorder (also to soothe myself). While I had all these symptoms, I was entirely functional – able to hold down a good job, earn my masters degree, and have close and healthy friendships. And while my anxiety was somewhat normal if you looked at TV or movies, it was also exhausting.

So how did I get to today where life feels pretty easeful and I’m relatively at home in my own skin – even when life is hard? I sewed a patchwork quilt. One square at a time of information, experience, aides, and awareness. Each person’s path out of chronic anxiety (or depression) is unique and there ought not be any judgement about one’s choices on the journey. No one road works for all and what matters is that quilt square come together to forms something that works. I released any shame I had about mental illness. I worked with some talented and wise psychotherapists and coaches that felt great to be in the room with. I attended a 10-month Dialectical Behavioral Therapy skills group. I seriously think the DBT skills should be a mandatory part of public education. I practiced and pondered mindfulness. I found meditation groups. I read. I got quiet. I practiced and pondered compassion and loving-kindness. I connected. I stopped isolating myself with the idea that I couldn’t show others that I was struggling. I reached out. I was real with others. I stopped creating a life where I only let my flaws hang out when I was alone. I stopped pretending like I had it all together, because I didn’t and that kind of isolation will kill anyone. I paid attention to what worked and what didn’t work for me. I learned I have a lot of HSP characteristics. I learned I do better working for myself. I learned that taking long afternoon naps and putting my needs first leads to happier days, happier friends, and happier clients. I took a hard look at my family. I saw that the parent I shared so many traits with had anxious tendencies themself – markers that I might have inherited some of what I was experiencing.

And I started taking Zoloft (generic name Sertraline).

I named this post ‘In praise of Zoloft’ because I think my decision to take medication to treat my anxiety is actually the most unique part of my story. While millions of people around the world are medicated for mood disorders, I was an unlikely candidate. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area where there’s an acupuncturist on every corner. I earned my Master’s degree in Holistic Health Education where I took courses in stress reduction and relaxation, Ayurveda, and nutrition. I meditated. I ate greens. I went to yoga class. I was primed to take an “all natural” and alternative approach to my anxiety.

But for me, many years ago, the floor finally dropped out of my life and Zoloft got me on solid ground. I’m lucky in that I’ve not experienced one side effect from taking it and I feel like myself, only more even keel. I’m still creative. I still feel all my emotions and cry as needed. I still have worries. I think as clearly as I always have, perhaps more so. It’s just that a dose each day makes my life much better.

Anxiety and depression are certainly aspects to spiritual awakening and I wish more people would look there first. That said, I had experienced symptoms my entire life and Zoloft has played a significant role in getting me where I wanted to go. I believe that medication is not for everyone (though meditation probably is). I believe that Zoloft is not the medication for everyone (consult a professional please). I firmly believe, truly, to each their own. But I wanted to share some of my story so others could see that taking advantage of modern medicine isn’t a failure and it won’t turn you into a zombie. And sometimes, it might just give you back your life.