When my brother Jon and I were in college back in the 1970′s, how-to books were very popular. You could buy a book on how to do almost anything–be a great conversationalist, tie-dye t-shirts (sold out during most of the 70′s) and play guitar (ditto).
One day Jon, a science genius, came home and said that he was going to write his own how-to book. While dissecting mouse brains in biology, he realized that there was a niche in the genre that hadn’t been tapped: there were no medical how-to books. What about, “How to Perform Your Own Brain Surgery?”, he said. ”The illustrations would be easy–a big cookie jar with the lid askew. The caption could read, ‘Think of your head as a cookie jar. First you take the lid off’,” and so on.
I think John was kidding, but I could never be sure. This was a boy who at 19 years of age came into the kitchen one Sunday and announced that he was dying of a brain tumor. (He was completely serious.) My father ran to the phone and called the doctor. When the answering service asked if it was an emergency my father replied, “I don’t know. It’s a brain tumor. Is that an emergency?”
This was how high Jon’s intellect was held in our collective family esteem. He was so smart we believed everything he said. Of course the doctor agreed to see him that Sunday (how many brain tumors does one get the chance to diagnose on a weekend?) but alas, for once Jon was wrong: his sinuses were clogged. When he returned home with cotton stuffed up both of his nostrils, my mother–who often said that she thought he would be the one to discover a cure for cancer–was relieved and disappointed at the same time.
But I digress. There is something to be said for how-to books, or rather, on doing things yourself instead of seeking the counsel of professionals. When it comes to losing weight, I have found that the best therapist might very well be you (or in my case, me). I am speaking from experience on this subject. For years I sought the advice of a psychiatrist, an older woman who was both very wise and very supportive. The most valuable lesson she taught me was that most of the time I knew the answers to my problems, but I didn’t trust myself enough to act on my own instincts. I felt that I had to ask her first.
We live inside our bodies, and in our brains, 24 hours a day. Who knows best what’s going on in there? Like it or not, we do. We have the power, and the responsibility, to help ourselves out of almost any jam. That can be a pretty scary thought when you’re in the throes of a chocolate binge and you don’t know why.
Perhaps on some level you really don’t know why you act in a self-destructive manner, but my painful growing-up experience taught me that when I ask myself the right questions, inevitably I am able to figure out why I act as I do. I am no great mystery to myself; if I’m grabbing at chocolate, something is wrong and I need to address it. Or I need to buy a bigger size of jeans.
Jo Jeanne the psychiatrist taught me to trust myself. I’m passing that knowledge along to you in hopes that you will take a shot at trusting yourself as well.
By the way, my brother didn’t cure cancer. He became an insurance salesman.
Hi Anne,
Thanks for the post. You’re a great storyteller!
I think one of the hardest things for me is 1) what are the right questions to ask myself? and 2) what do I do with the answers? So many people live unconsciously. I lived that way for a really long time. When I was unconscious, it was tremendously difficult to even realize grabbing chocolate (or in my case, chips!) was a clue something was wrong. Now that I’m over that hump, how do I know I’m asking the right questions to figure out what’s wrong? Scarier still (or exciting, depending on your attitude?), knowing what’s wrong is half the battle. I still have to address the problem…because I’m done buying bigger jeans.
Clara, The right questions aren’t difficult ones; they simply get at the truth, which sometimes we don’t want to hear. I thought I was lucky when I first got out of college and landed a job right away. However, I was miserable. I hated the job and instead of admitting it, I gained 15 pounds in 6 months eating for “comfort.” Of course, I wasn’t really comfortable; the eating made me even more miserable.
My brother Jon (yes, the one with the pseudo-brain tumor) said to me, “If you hate your job, why don’t you quit?” I replied, “I can’t.” Jon: “Of course you can. Just tell them you’re quitting.” Me: “I cannot quit a good-paying job.” Jon: “Why not? You said you hated it.” Me: “Because I just can”t!” Jon: “No, you just won’t! And if you won’t DO something about it, don’t complain to ME. I’m sick of people complaining all the time and not DOING anything.” (Jon was nothing if not blunt.)
Actually, he was right. I complained and complained but wasn’t doing anything. Jon made me ask myself this: What really matters to me–money or personal satisfaction? What would make me happy? And the answer wasn’t that job. So I quit and it was the best decision I could have made. My mother had told me not to quit, that the job was good for my career, but if it was making me so unhappy, it wasn’t worth it.
It wasn’t all roses after that. I still had a lot of growing up to do, which means asking more hard questions. But when you hit the nail on the head, it feels great, and it teaches you to ask more right questions. Tell me what’s going on in your life, Clara. Let’s start asking questions. We can figure this out.
Anne,
Maybe there’s another reader out there who wants to be the guinea pig? Perhaps we can recruit someone at Friday’s WW meeting.
Another great story. Your example really brought it from a 30,000-foot level to a ground level for me. It’s overwhelming to think about trusting yourself in general. Seems like such a big task. But it helps when you bring it down to “am I happy or not with this situation?” and “what’s really important to me here?” I can think of a lot of times where I haven’t asked myself those questions because I was doing what others had prescribed for me as being “the right thing to do.” As for the other questions I need to ask myself, I’m not sure if I want a public record of them here
And while it’s never too late, 59 seems a little old to just be figuring this out. I have also recently learned in my quest to understand myself better that not all problems need to be owned by me. So, one of my questions has had to be, “can I change this” or do I need to let it go and let someone else deal with it. Also very freeing and helpful in the stressful eating cycle.