No More Weighting

Let me start by saying I know how difficult this topic can be.  I know there are many psychological hot buttons involved here.  I know many of us are struggling, many struggling more than me.  Please know that when I am saying something negative and judgmental here it isn't about you.  It has nothing to do with how I perceive you.  It's all about me and how I feel about myself.  I hope that makes sense.  Now here we go.

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"Are you freaking kidding me?!"  That's what I thought when I looked at the scale.  I had my annual physical a few days ago.  We all know what that dreaded first assessment is going to be.  "Can I get you to step up here?" the 20-something, size 2 nurse asks me.  She was sweet and kind and just doing her job, but I really want to turn to her and say, "Do I look like someone who wants to step on a scale?"

But I did, because we do.  And I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

And to follow that up, when my blood test results came back they showed quite a spike in my cholesterol levels.

And I'm not okay with that.

I'm not sure whether it was the weight or the cholesterol, but now I want to do something about it.  Really do something.

So here it is.  - deep breath - 

I weighed in at 216 pounds.  I am 5'4".  I'm just going to let that sit there for a minute while it sinks in.  While I get comfortable with owning my self.  216 pounds.

I'm not comfortable with it.  Not at all.

I've seen lots of people, mostly women, blog about weight loss and openly share their weight.  I swore I would never do that.  Funny thing.  Now that the decision is made to move in a healthier direction, I can say it.

For years I've told myself I wasn't sensitive about my weight.  I knew I was getting heavier, but I was still able to do most of the things I could before, so how bad could it be?  My skin never felt flabby.  (Yeah, it never does.  It grows with the enlarging mass growing under it.  Duh.)  There was always someone larger than me.  That helped, although it shouldn't have.  It really had nothing to do with me.

But it did bother me.  I'd say it was about being healthy, not about how I looked.  Bull!  What a lie.  One of those self-deception things that helped me get through a situation I felt powerless against.

It was bothering me before I went to the doctor.  I addressed it with him as part of my physical.  "I used to have no appetite and could easily go 24 hours without eating (not healthy).  But now I'm hungry all the time.  I'm more physically active than I've been in a long time, but I'm still gaining weight.  Could it be menopause?"  (I had a full hysterectomy last year.  So even though I'm only 45, I'm in full-blown menopause.)

He told me two of the medications I am currently taking cause weight gain.  Wonderful. :(  Actually, I liked when he said that because it gave me a bit of deniability.  "I would totally be losing weight if I weren't on these meds.  It's the meds' fault."  And that's probably partly true.  But not entirely by a long shot.

I'm getting off one of the meds, for other reasons, and cutting the other one by half.  Finger crossed this helps.  And with my new thyroid medication and the Lamictal I have more energy that I have in years.  (Not a lot, but enough to feel like a tired human instead of a rock.)

This is it.  This is the time.  It's only going to get harder if I wait.  And I'm sick of hiding from friends and from pictures.

There are people I used to work with that I avoid seeing, even though I like them and would love to see them again, because I don't want them to see how much weight I've gained.  And I've hidden from pictures for years now.  There are way fewer pictures of me for posterity than there should be.

Because I'm embarrassed.  There.  I said it.  I'm embarrassed about how I look.  I want to say I'm not.  I want to not care about what others think of me.  But I am.  And I do.

A basic history:

  * Other than being shorter than most people, I was never really petite.

  * In high school (which was the first time I remember even knowing what I weighed) I weighed 140 pounds and wore size 8 jeans.  I was not skinny by high school standards.  There were so many girls around me who were just tiny.  Thin little things.  I was absolutely not that.  I knew I wasn't that but wanted to be.  I developed substantial hips at 14.  I have thoroughbred thighs that run in my family.  I was not tiny.  But when I look back at those photos now I realize how small I really was.  Go figure.

  * I only gained 20-25 pounds with each baby (5).  With my first, I lost the weight quickly and even dropped some extra.  I was very active.  I dropped to 130 pounds and a size 6.  That was the happiest I'd ever been about my weight and how I looked.

  * After each following baby, I kept about ten pounds.

  * In the spring of 2001, when I weighed about 180 pounds and my baby was almost three, the world feel out from under my feet.  By June I was in bed.  All the time.  For the next year and a half.  I was able to function just enough to keep my children alive.  I would lie on the couch and watch videos with them or watch them play.  I would talk my oldest daughter (10) through getting them food.  At night I had a tiny amount of energy and would put together sandwich bags of food for the next day.  Cheese slices.  Carrots.  Crackers.  My attempt at taking care of my kids.  Because that was seriously all I could do.  I couldn't move.  I was so tired it made me cry.  And giving up all the things I did, all the volunteering at their schools and coaching of their teams and taking them to the park - all gone.  I never got a definitive answer about what was wrong, it just gradually got better.  But I've never felt well again since.  I go through times when I can function better than others.  And I go through times when I'm flat in bed.

  * I have no idea how much I weighed in between that time and the next time.  We didn't own a scale.  We still don't.

  * In 2010 I wrote "A Weighty Issue," a blog post about being unhappy with my weight but not ready to really do anything about it.  It really shook me today when I looked back at that and realized it took five years for me to be ready.  I honestly don't remember what I weighed then except that I'd probably just broken 200 pounds.  I'd sworn to myself I'd never let myself hit 200, but I did.  And it devastated me for a few days.  But I shook it off, blamed it on still not feeling well, and moved on.  Seriously, if you can barely get out of bed, how could you be expected to exercise?

  * In 2012 I went to my psychiatrist for the first time.  She asked what I weighed.  I said about 200 pounds, which was hard enough to say.  But it wasn't even true.  Because I had just recently had a physical and the scale said 206.  Stupid scale.  But I wrote some of that off as premenstrual water retention.  You know what I mean; right, ladies?

  * And now, three years later, I weigh 216 pounds and wear size 16 jeans.  Like I said, I had a hysterectomy.  So the excuse of premenstrual water retention is off the table.  I am finally able to move enough to clean my house and function almost like a real human being.  And I know how to do it.  I really have no excuses anymore.  (Well, I still have some flat in bed moments.  But I could work out on the other days.  Which I don't.)

So here's my action plan.  Eat better.  Move.  That's it.  It's more defined in my head, but that's the gist of it.

I don't intend for my blog to suddenly become a weight loss blog.  I may or may not report as things progress (because they will progress, dang it!).  And I don't have a before shot of my body.  Honestly, my fat body hasn't been what's bothered me most or kept me from being in pictures.

It's my fat face.

You can hide your body behind other people, but if you hide your face there's really no reason to be in a photo.  And I've got a big head - like 7 3/8 big.  So when I'm in a photo with other people, my head dwarfs theirs.  I look like Andre the giant.  That was even true before I got so fat.  (Luckily, my husband's head is even bigger than mine.  Thanks, honey.)

But I'm ready to own it.  I'm ready to move on.  And in order to move on, I have to acknowledge where I came from.  So here are some of those photos.  (Sorry I don't have better photos.  Not only do I hide from the camera, but I also haven't digitized many.)

My wedding day - 1990, 25 years ago.  This is the oldest digital photo I had of myself that you could see my face in.  This was two years after I graduated.  I think my face looks pretty good here.

Five kids later - probably early 1999, 16 years ago.  I'm not thrilled with my look here.  My hair is pulled up in my "softball/cleaning" ponytail; not super flattering.  But there's no double chin yet.

I'm guessing this is about five or so years later - let's say 1994, 11 years ago.  See how I'm throwing my head back.  At this point I'd started to notice a double chin in photos and was trying to avoid that.

2009 - 6 years ago.  My daughters are super cute, but that's about the only thing I like about this photo.  See how I'm hiding behind them?  Still trying to tip my head up and back a little?  See those flabby arms?  See that double chin?  Yeah, not cool.  But I got in the photo.  For that, I'm proud of myself.

2011 - 5 years ago.  By this time I'd decided I needed to start being in some of the photos.  I'd also learned that being cheesy in a photo made it less bothersome when I didn't look great.  Okay, I look kind of like a drowned rat here because of the rain, but also notice how round my face has gotten.

2012 - 4 years ago.  This is a photo I both love and hate.  It's a picture of me teaching at church, which is something I absolutely love to do.  It was a wonderful time in my life and I'm glad I have a record of it.  But, seriously, can you believe how fat my face is?  How fat I am?  Oh, my heck!  I about cried when I saw it.

2013 - 2 years ago.  Hiding behind someone again.  Tilting my head away and back a bit to try to hide that double chin.  Failing miserably - Ugh.  That double chin.

2014 - last year.  I'm kind of proud of myself for just letting the shot happen.  I'm not hiding or tilting my head back.  I've come a long way toward acceptance of my true body size by this time.  But, oh, how huge my head is.

2015 - last week.  This is me now.  I voluntarily took a photo of my face and put it on facebook.  I own it.  This is me.  I'm a fat girl.

I'm ready to move forward.  No, I don't want your help.  Yes, I'd love your support.

Just kind of BLAH

I'd love to write something deep today.  Something that will be life altering for you or for me.  But it's not going to happen.

I've got lots of incredibly wise topics to discuss.  I'm sure I'd have brilliant insights too.  But not now.

Today is BLAH.  Just there.  Today is.

My head hurts.  I've got blurry vision.  I'm dizzy.  I'm cranky.  And I'm still dealing with a rather severe PTSD episode.  Next time I'll listen when I'm told not to attend something I know could be dangerous for me.  At least I hope I will.

But for now I'll get out of bed.  Maybe even get dressed.  Try to find something I can stomach to eat.  Referee my teenagers who really need to get out and do something instead of sitting next to each other on the couch and arguing about who took who's spot and whose turn it is on the wii and why they don't have to share a pizza.

And then kick them all off and watch Groundhog Day.  Maybe twice.  Because it's Groundhog Day.

A Year of Kindness

This last year I decided to let KINDNESS be my guide.  The one word that would be on my mind and in my heart as I lived my life.  And I learned a lot.

I learned that any time I make something a chore it becomes less fun for me.  I did okay tweeting every day for a long time.  Then it got a little more erratic.  I think I pretty much stopped all together around July.

I also learned that choosing one word, one idea, to focus on for the year is awesome!  I loved it so much more than I ever liked setting goals or resolutions.  It works for me.  Plus, it gave me plenty of time to really internalize things.  Change takes time.  Usually a lot longer than we think.  A year allows for effort, failure, correction, learning, and more effort.

And I learned that I am so much happier when I am kind.  I'm a pro at the quick, sarcastic quip, but I don't like being that person.  It feels false.  I like being genuine.  I like saying what I mean.  I like telling people how wonderful I think they are.  I like choosing to ignore things that bug me so that others feel uplifted in my presence.  And the more I choose to ignore those things, the less they bug me.  The more kind I choose to be, the more beautiful the world becomes.

I can't speak for the entire world, but in America we live in a society that praises both kindness (openly) and unkindness (subtly).  News stories of service and giving capture our interest and sometimes change our behavior for a while, but we sure do like our sarcasm and teasing.  Our entertainment is filled with biting remarks.  The verbal slam is what gets laughs and praise.  There are entire tv shows dedicated to pulling pranks on people -- the soul purpose of which is to embarrass someone else for our entertainment.  Political discourse is less about discussing a point of view and seeking to understand the other side than it is about tearing the other argument (and often, the other person) to shreds.  We seem to say we want kindness, we like kindness, but our actions so often support the opposite side.

I've learned to keep my mouth shut more.  Since my brain still isn't fully converted, I have to control what I can.  The unkind thoughts still enter my head, but I can stop them from leaving my mouth.  I'm not always successful, but I'm doing so much better.

And I've learned that listening is one of the most kind acts I can perform.  So many people just need someone to listen to them.  Not to fix things.  Not to give advice.  Just to listen.  We all need our hearts to be heard.  Honest listening, with support and love and an intent to understand, sends value to the speaker.  There are just too many people who have no one to listen to them.  Taking the time to truly listen fills my heart in a divine way.  It makes me more than I was.  It enhances me.  It strengthens me.  Listening is a good thing.

I've also learned that being kind sometimes means speaking up.  Maybe it's the compliment I thought in my head but wouldn't always say in the past.  Say it.  It matters.  Or it's asking others to stop or change the conversation when it becomes unkind, even if it's about someone not present.  It may not ever get back to that person to hurt them, but staying silent hurts me.  Staying silent is participating.  It's passively saying that behavior is okay.  And it's not.

And I've learned that as with most things, it's more difficult to be kind with family.  And it's more important.

I notice kindness so much more.  There are so many kind acts every day, everywhere I go.  I notice unkindness more as well.  There's still way too much of that.  And I notice how my efforts to change and be more kind make a difference.  I am changing the world.  One person, one moment, at a time.

Kindness will go forward with me.  It is a part of me now.  It's in my heart.  But I've already chosen my word for next year and can't wait to get started.  More on that next week.

Feedback on Your Blog

Honest feedback is important.  Having people in your life who can look at something objectively and tell you the truth is so valuable.  As women, we sometimes struggle giving or receiving feedback well.  We tip-toe around the truth to not be hurtful.  We get hurt when someone answers directly a question we asked.  I am a firm believer that if you don't really want a truthful answer, you shouldn't ask the question.  Especially to me.

I believe truth is power.  Knowledge is power.  Going along living your life thinking everything is wonderful because all the little minions around you are telling you how great you are is not wonderful.  It might feel good for a while, but it's fake.  And it does nothing for your growth.

I thought about this today as I answered a request for feedback on someone's blog.  It was fun for me, although it was tough, too.  I worried that I would say something that would hurt her feelings.  But at the same time, I saw such potential for growth.  I truly felt like I was helping her see things she was missing.  I don't expect her to change everything I said I didn't like.  She might choose to change none of them.  But having this feedback gives her options she might not have known she had.

I really feel like the most important thing about blogging is to know why you are doing it.  Are you doing it as a family history?  Are you doing it because all of your friends are doing it?  Are you doing it because writing makes you happy?  Are you doing it to make money?  Are you doing it to shut your brain up (that would be me)?  Are you doing it in the hopes of getting a book deal?  Are you doing it to connect with others online?

There are so many reasons people blog.  Maybe you blog for a reason I didn't mention.  Maybe you blog for several reasons.  We usually have a primary goal and secondary goals, even when we aren't really aware of them.  But until you know why you blog, you can never know if your blog is successful.  If you don't know what your actual goals are how will you know when you reach them?

And once you know what your goals are it's important to know what's standing in the way.  That's where honest feedback comes in.

I work very hard not to give feedback unless it's asked for.  If I see a problem on your blog, I probably won't tell you (unless you're my daughter and it's a typo).  But I love to give feedback when asked.

So I am making this offer today.  If you've ever wanted someone to look over your blog and tell you what you can improve on, send me an email or let me know in a comment.  I'd be happy to look it over and give you honest feedback.  Because we can all use a little more truth in our lives.

Oh, and I welcome any feedback you might have for me as well.

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Some recent health issues have made it increasingly difficult for me to fulfill this offer to everyone who asked.  I apologize if I didn't get to your blog.  I ask your forgiveness and wish you well in your blogging efforts.

Confronting My Therapist

A little background -- Bill is my husband.  My therapist used to be his therapist.  And even though I have never sworn in a blog post before I swear once in this one.  I tried to find another word to use, but nothing else conveyed the same emotion.  I did try.

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Telling the truth to power is difficult.  Telling the truth to anyone can be hard.  Especially if you grew up in a situation where the truth was only appreciated if it was what they wanted to hear.  Otherwise, you'd be punished.

Well, that's the situation I grew up in and today I had to tell my therapist something he might not want to hear.  I had to give him feedback.  There was something he was doing that was counter-productive to my healing.

I was anxious.  But I knew that it was important.  He had done it multiple times and it was a big problem for me.

So today I got to therapy, all geared up and ready to go.  I can do this.  I can do this.  Don't let him start talking about something else.  Dive right it.  Just get it done so we can move on.  I can do this.

Well, he started talking in the hall on the way to his office and by the time we were in the door he already had a review going of my progress.  I went along, wondering how long I could put it off and knowing that it had to be today. 

We spent half an hour reviewing.  Talking about how I'm doing on my regimen and if I feel better and why all of this matters.  It was time well spent.  I covered things I wanted to cover.  But it wasn't what I was dying to say.

As we wrapped up the review he asked what direction I wanted to go today.  He mentioned a few of the things we'd been working on in the past that don't feel finished.

I stopped him.  I told him we could get to that in a minute.  First I needed to address something with him.  I needed to give him some feedback about something that isn't working in our relationship.  Then I asked if he was ready.  He asked if he needed a seatbelt.  I told him no.

I took a deep breath and began.  It went something like this:

"There are going to be times when I need to talk about Bill, to process things.  There are still lots of times he's an ass.  I need to be able to talk about that in order to heal.  Whenever I start to talk about Bill you re-frame what I'm saying so fast that I can't say what I need to say.  Or you say, 'But this is better, right?'  You seem to be defensive when I talk about him.  I don't know if it's because you like him and feel like you need to defend him.  Or if it's because when I tell you he's not doing well you feel like it's an attack on your work because I'm saying he's not cured.  Or if it's because you're both men and you feel like when I say negative things about him it's an attack on men in general.  Whatever it is, it feels like you're defensive.  I shut down and am unable to say the things I need to say."

He said, "Okay."  He pondered for a minute.  Then he asked me if I knew what counter-transference is.  I said I did.  (If you don't, you'll have to look it up - sorry.)  He said counter-transference is not uncommon with therapists and they don't know when they are doing it unless someone points it out to them.  He said that he still didn't recognize it in himself, but that if I'm saying it's happening he needs to believe me.  He's been a therapist long enough to know he doesn't know everything.  Twenty years ago, when he was just starting, he probably would have balked at what I said because he thought he knew it all.  But now when someone says something like that he takes it as truth and tries to fix it.

He told me strategies he would use to try to be aware and stop doing it in the future.  I told him that if it happens again I will tell him to shut up and listen to me.  Or throw the pillow at him.

I told him I'd been nervous about confronting him with it.  He told me it was a good sign of progress that I was willing to stand up for what I needed, especially to a man.  He then told me he knew I would never say anything to hurt him, only to help him or help us do better.  He was right.

This is more evidence that my therapist is a good fit for me.  I trust him.  He's a good man.  I was pretty sure he'd want to know if something he was doing was hurting me.  I was right.

It was a good session.

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I wrote about the rest of my session on my other blog -- It Matters When He's Mean.

You're Much Happier in Person

Recently, as part of an improve-your-writing challenge, I asked for feedback on my writing.  A few brave souls trusted that I meant it (I did) and offered some.  Kudos to you for your bravery.  And thank you.

To me, feedback is like telling someone they have spinach in their teeth.  It might be awkward, but it helps them avoid future embarrassment.  I believe you should ask a person if they want feedback before offering it (unless they ask you for it).  And I believe feedback and criticism are two very different things.  It's not feedback if you are telling them about something you don't like that they have no way to fix.  It's not feedback if it's meant to hurt or tease or make you look better than them.

One thing that a couple of people told me was that I seem much happier in person than I come across in my writing.  That my writing seems darker than I really am.

Being the introspective person that I am, I thought about this.  Is it true?  Am I misrepresenting myself in my writing?  Am I misrepresenting myself in person?  Why don't these two personas align?

Like most things in life, it's complicated.

While I would like to be incredibly genuine at all times, sometimes I still put on a happy face when I'm out.  Not as much as I used to.  Not to people I trust.  Usually just in passing or with people I don't really know.  Or if I'm not up to talking about what's bothering me. 

And then there's the fact that if I'm outside of my house, I'm probably feeling better.  If I feel better then I'm happier.  It's that simple.

Plus, being with people, especially certain people, makes me happier, too.

I can also be more intimate in my writing than I can in everyday situations.  There just aren't that many opportunities to sit and chat for hours with a friend.  Privately so I can get it all out without worrying about being judged or others overhearing.  Writing serves that purpose for me.  Writing is very intimate.  I can say what I feel without anyone else's emotions coloring it.  And things come out in my writing that I might not have known about myself, that I might not have even known I was feeling.

When I don't feel well I stay home.  I stay in my room.  Just me and my computer.  That leaves more writing time.  When I feel well I am out and about and don't have as much time (or need) to write.

I also feel a need to capture the dark times.  For me and for others.  It's so difficult to communicate those feelings to others.  It's difficult to remember them when they pass.  But it's important to try, if only so others know they are not alone.

All of that said, I know my writing has been darker for a long period of time (until maybe the last week or two).  I have been in a darker place.  One that won't break.  But even in the midst of this I don't feel sad most of the time.  People sometimes think that because I write about dark feelings I am sad.  That's not always the case.  I have sad moments and happy moments, just like everyone else.  Some are just longer than others.  I don't think my life is horrible or tragic.  I also don't think it's peaches and cream.

Realizing that my writing has been dark, I have asked myself if I should write more positively anyway -- in spite of how I feel.  No one has asked me to do this.  But some people do miss my positivity.  (It didn't feel like criticism, just that the other me was missed.)  Maybe my dark writing will drive people away.

Trust me.  I have thought about this a lot.

And this is my conclusion.  I will watch for this in my life.  I will watch for more positive things.  I will look for happy.  And I will make it a point to try to write when I am in a better place.

But I won't fake it.  As much as I love having other people read my writing, it's not really for you.  It's for me.  If it is meeting your needs and not mine, then it's just not worth it to me anymore.

And that's another thing that's beautiful about feedback.  You can examine it, weigh it, and decide what you want to do with it.  Implement all, some, or none of it.  Without this freedom it loses it's power.

Things I am Totally Hypocritical About

May I just tell you how much I HATE hypocrisy?  I can't stand it when people preach one thing and do something completely opposite.  Who do they think they are?  Are they so righteous that the rules don't apply to them?  Man, the superiority complex.

Have you ever heard that those things which irritate us most in others are frequently the traits we hate about ourselves?

Allow me to present Exhibit A -- Me.  (There's really only one exhibit, but in all the law shows they always label them with letters and it just sounds stupid without it.)

*Don't eat at the computer.  Oh, how many times I have chanted this mantra.  The amount of punishment I have dished out.  The frustration I've expressed at the greasy mouse and crumby keyboard.  Don't these kids know how to take care of anything?

Exhibit A -- Me sitting at the computer after the kids have gone to bed, eating chips (greasy ones, crumby ones) and placing my full glass of milk on the desk right next to the mouse.

*Get plenty of sleep.  Why do kids ever give up naps?  Why do they get up early when they don't have to go to work or school?  Why do they think summertime means they are entitled to stay up as late as they want because they don't have to get up early to go to work or school?  Don't they realize that their minds and bodies need sleep in order to function properly and be healthy?

Exhibit A -- Me staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning because the house is finally quiet.  Reading a book.  Watching the latest episode of The Good Wife.  Blogging.  And suddenly realizing that it's 4:30am and I'd better go to sleep soon or my husband will catch me awake when he gets up to go to work in an hour -- BUSTED!  Wondering why I find everyone so irritating the next day.

*Don't spend so much time on the computer.  I have to monitor the time my kids spend on the computer like a hawk or they would be on it all day.  It's not healthy for my son to play World of Warcraft for five hours straight, only to take a break when I call him up for dinner.  It's not okay with me that my daughter has been on facebook for the past two hours taking quizzes and feeding her pets.  Their bodies need physical exercise, not just their fingers.

Exhibit A -- Me telling my kids that I ran errands and did laundry while they were at school.  Of course I wasn't on the computer all day.  While I secretly know that I read 68 blog posts, played 25 games of solitaire, and took care of my pet on facebook.

*Walk into the other room to talk to me; don't shout.  Don't call me on the cell phone from the living room.  I chastise every person I live with for this one at least a couple of times a week.  I mean seriously, you can't get up and walk the fifteen steps it would take to communicate with me without shouting?  Do I not deserve a little more consideration than that?  Are you really that lazy?

Exhibit A -- Me yelling at Kid 4 to leave Kid 5 alone from my bedroom while they are in the living room.  Me calling Kid 3 on her cell phone to wake her up in the morning because I don't want to get out of bed.

*Be kind.  Why is it so hard for siblings to be nice to each other?  Can you really not walk past her without touching her?  Can't you say something nice about that person instead of always tearing them down?

Exhibit A -- Me and a couple of friends griping about a neighbor who's driving us crazy.

Unfortunately, I rest my case.

You Can't Handle the Truth!

How are you?

No, really.  How are you?

I would ask two questions in regard to the above inquiry.  First, how often do you mean it when you say it?  And second, how often do you answer honestly?

This questions bugs me.  It bugs me because it's another example of the sloppiness of the English language.  Most of the time it isn't an actual question as to how your life is going or how you are feeling, it is a way to say hi.  I don't like it when words are used in a way that they don't really mean what they say.  Clear as mud?

I try to mean it when I say it.  Partly because I like to be precise in my communication and partly because I think everyone needs a whole lot more listening ears and hearts in their lives.

So, onto the answering part.

This question has posed problems for me.  I would say that it got especially difficult when I started working with a bunch of therapists, and they meant it.  It was probably the first time in my life that I really felt like anyone around me wanted to know how I was out of true concern for me, not out of a desire to assess whether or not they could ask me to do something for them.

And then it got worse when I started seeing a therapist professionally.  And worse when I got my never-ending headache.  At this point I had no idea what this question really meant or how I should answer it.

Let me clarify by saying that I believe in being honest.  I try very hard to be honest in every situation.  (Partly out of the perfectionism issue.)

So suddenly people were asking me how I was and fine was no longer a default answer.  Often I wasn't fine, but I also wasn't sure who really wanted to know.  I confess that I erred a great deal here.  I tend to over-share.  I gave out more information than many people wanted.

I think I've improved some.  I think I fliter a little better.  But I still sometimes offer the truth even when I know people don't want it.

My favorite place is in the checkout line at the grocery store.  It goes something like this:
"How are you?"
"I'm really tired and cranky and trying not to kill people.  How are you?"

Now, some people barely notice and move on.  Others admit that it's the most honest answer they've heard all day.  And others say that they are, too, and we share a moment of bonding.  They have just been given permission to be honest, to drop the smile and be true to themselves in the moment. 

And then I am a little better.  Funny how sharing true emotion for just a second with a nearly complete stranger can be so cleansing.  You should try it.

So, how are you?