What Do You See When You Look in the Mirror?

Smile in the mirror. Do that every morning and you'll start to see a big difference in your life. Yoko Ono

For many of us female-type people, it's not easy to look in the mirror.

We're hard on ourselves. We don't just see our reflection. We see body parts to be criticized and judged. We ask ourselves: Is this a bad hair day? Do I look fat in these pants? What's going on with my chin(s)?

Constant criticism is a form of abuse. We wouldn't tolerate it from anyone else, but we do it to ourselves. I know a woman who goes as far as cutting her face out of family pictures. Where does that kind of self-loathing come from?

Of course, to be entirely honest, has there ever been a picture taken of me that I haven't judged harshly?

Five years ago, I had a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. When I looked in the mirror, I saw utter and complete damage. My body image was in the toilet. I was angry, broken and overwhelmed.

Little by little, my body healed and I came to accept the changes breast cancer had caused. Yet, I still judged, even though no one knows better than I the traumas (miscarriages, infertility, cancer, abuse) this body has taken and survived magnificently.

And there it is. I dared to say it.

"Magnificently."

It's not easy to admit, but it's actually easier to criticize than it is to celebrate my body. I don't want to be "full of myself," so I become lesser. I'm afraid to seem conceited. I'm embarrassed by compliments. I don't want to appear to have a big head.

I'd be ashamed to get caught smiling in the mirror.

In the end, it's not about what we see in the mirror. It's about who we see. Can we love and accept ourselves from the inside out?

Can we say with complete conviction: "I'm enough!"

I've watched the video above more than once and teared up every time. With all of the social conditioning females are subjected to and how hard it is to own our magnificence, can we ever look in the mirror and see what those who love us see?

It's not easy, but maybe we can take it one smile at a time.

xoxo,

Debbie

P.S. The video reminded me of a book I recently read, Love Yourself Like Your Life Depends on It. It's short and sweet inspirational reading. Check it out!

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The Road to Woodstock, Connection, Robert Sturman & Lots of Rain

How did I end up in a cornfield in Woodstock, NY, with Lockey Maisonneuve, and Robert Sturman, world class photographer/artist? 

Interesting story.

Back when I had cancer, I told my therapist about a Pilates class I took. Because of my surgery, when I found myself flat on my back attempting to lift my feet off the floor, they wouldn't budge. I was so upset, I wanted to run out of the room. The only thing that stopped me was the carnage I imagined I'd cause by stomping the other women in the class on my way out the door. 

My therapist told me about a rehabilitative exercise class for breast cancer survivors, led by Lockey. I wasn't thrilled about trying another class, but desperation sometimes pushes you past your comfort zone if you let it.

Long story short, Lockey and I became friends.

That was five years ago.

Yesterday, we took our road trip to Woodstock to meet Robert, who travels the world shooting photographs of yogis that transcend the physical into another realm entirely. Lockey, a yoga teacher and creator of the Let It Go Workshop, was the subject, I was the supportive, helpful friend. The photo session started, and so did the rain. 

After camping out in our cars for the worst of it, we ventured out into the cornfield. The ground was soaked (why are my rain boots warm and dry in my closet?) but it really didn't matter.

Magic happened.

The older I get, the more I realize it is impossible to live well without connection. Sure, it was a joy to meet a famous, incredibly talented photographer (and a really lovely man.) But, more important than that was the connection the three of us shared in that field, being a part of creating something amazing.

And, even better than that was spending the day, driving, talking, eating, and in and out of the rain with one of my closest friends in the world. 

So, when I found myself in that Pilates class stricken with grief at how much cancer had taken from me, it wasn't the end like I thought it was. It was the beginning. 

The road to Woodstock started five years ago on that floor and in my therapist's office when I let myself be vulnerable and tell my story to someone I trusted to help. 

The moral of the story is to ask and you shall receive. If you're lucky (and why shouldn't you be) you might end up witnessing an incredible artist make art and sharing beauty and connection with souls I never would have encountered otherwise. 

Oh, and never stomp your way out of a Pilates class. It's just not good karma.

xoxo,

Debbie

PS: You can read more about our Woodstock adventure at WhereWeGoNow.

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Act with Kindness, Because You Never Know

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. Philo

Giving back gives me joy. It also heals what ails you. That's why I spend time working as a patient educator with the Pathways Women's Cancer Teaching Project.

The other morning, I spent some time talking with four young women in the physician assistant program at Seton Hall University. I was there to give them the truth (mine) about what it is like to be a cancer patient.

As a patient educator I've met with hundreds of young residents, and medical, nursing and chaplain students. During our sessions, we are interviewed and participants are encouraged to ask us anything and everything about our experience. In this way, we expose them to the patient as a whole person with a family, job, fears and emotions. We've been told by many participants that meeting with us has entirely changed their practice for the better.

Three of the women I spoke with were engaged and asked numerous questions. The fourth was extremely quiet and sat twirling her hair. She appeared to be listening, but wouldn't participate, even when I asked her directly if she had any questions.

After our session with the PA students, the patient educators got together. When it was my turn to talk about my session, I mentioned the young woman twirling her hair. I said I initially thought she wasn't engaged, but a moment of eye contact led me to believe she might have been dealing with a cancer story of her own.   

We looked at her feedback form and, sure enough, she had written that a member of her family had breast cancer and she just couldn't talk about it in the group.

How did I know? Something in her eyes sparked a split second of recognition. How many times had I gone out into the world, trying to function normally, when deep down inside I was carrying the red hot ember of cancer worry? What about that time I struggled to hold it together as the tech said amazingly ignorant things to me during my first mammogram after my mastectomy?

And it's not just cancer pain we push down where we think no one can see. One of the most painful experiences of my life happened over 20 years ago when I was a practicing attorney. I was in another attorney's office for a scheduled deposition of his client, a child. My job was to ask questions about the child's accident, but the attorney came out and told me his client wanted to leave early. When I said I would try to be quick, but I had a job to do, he asked me if I had children. When I answered that I didn't he dismissed me with, "Oh, that's why you don't understand."

What he didn't understand was that I am the oldest of nine children, so I certainly get kids. He also didn't understand that I had lost two pregnancies and was battling infertility. As much as his carelessly cruel comment hurt me, I held in my pain and trudged through the deposition.

None of us has to come clean and share anything we don't want to share. We have a right to our privacy and our dignity (there's nothing worse than losing it with people you don't trust to handle it.)

Sometimes it's easy to know when a person needs your kindness. And sometimes it isn't. 

But it shouldn't matter.

Part of being human is to experience sorrow, fear, grief and pain.

To be an evolved human is to know it's not just you and to act accordingly, with kindness.

Because you never know. 

xoxo,

  

Debbie

Image courtesy of Jennifer

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10 Ways to Live Your Truth & Create Emotional Healing

“If you shut up truth, and bury it underground, it will but grow.” Emile Zola

Do you know that feeling of walking through life trying to function and look okay, but on the inside being a complete mess? That was me during most of 2009.

Of course, a select few knew my secret but, at that point, I wasn’t ready to publish my truth to the world. I was just trying to get through each day, if not each minute, the best I could.

That February, a breast cancer diagnosis had gone off like a bomb blast in my life. I lost body parts, but could cover up the physical and emotional damage with clothes and an “I’m fine.” It was a lie and I told it because I thought acting strong was how to “move on.”

No such luck. Every time I stepped out of the shower, my fifteen inch hip to hip scar, missing nipple and asymmetrical, scarred breasts screamed “DAMAGED” at me. Emotionally, I was angry, lonely, fatigued and teetering on depression.

That summer we were invited to friends’ house for dinner and I finally confessed to my husband that I was exhausted emotionally from telling people I was fine when I wasn’t. I felt like I was lying all the time and I just didn’t want to do it anymore.

His answer, “Tell the truth.”

It was a radical idea and, when the inevitable question came up, I took his advice and was surprised by the empathy and compassion I received. That was the moment I realized burying the truth didn’t make me strong. Being strong required telling the truth and taking small, concrete steps to honestly live it:

1. Show Up to be Supported: No one knocked on my door to offer support during my early days of covering up and acting strong. Support didn’t come until I admitted I needed it and showed up to get it.
2. Tell Your Story: When I started telling my story I felt heard. Being heard made me feel validated and validation helped me heal. There was no shortcut to emotional healing that let me get away with not telling the truth.
3. Practice Gratitude: All I had to do was say, “thank you.” Letting others know how much I appreciated them, even when it made me feel vulnerable, brought more goodness into my life.
4. Give Back: The first time I shared with another cancer survivor I was shocked to realize my cancer experience was actually worth something. Putting my suffering to work in service to others was, and still is, a win-win.
5. Say “Yes” to Yourself: Before cancer I was extremely risk-adverse. When faced with something new, I’d come up with a million reasons to say “no.”  After cancer, I honestly faced my fears and asked just one question, “Why not?” The answer lets me know whether or not to take the leap.
6. Move Your Body: Before cancer I wasn’t athletic. I’m still not athletic, but I’ve discovered yoga and walking. Getting active gave me back some control over my body, with each yoga session bringing a stronger connection between body, mind and self.
7. Practice Mindfulness: Mindfulness brings me into the present without judgment. When I focus on the now, rather than replaying the past or worrying about the future, I have clarity and much less drama.
8. Make Time to Play: There is no falseness in play. When I play, I am joyfully living in the moment and everything I am is true.
9. Take Every Opportunity to Laugh: Laughter is the crystal clear sound of joy. You can’t laugh and not feel joy and, at least for that moment, joy is your truth. Try it!
10. Cultivate a Sense of Wonder:  The world is a wondrous place. When I open my eyes to it, I let myself truly believe in possibilities.

Back in the day, I thought insisting I was fine and hiding the truth of life with breast cancer made it so. I was completely wrong.

Emotional healing is impossible without truth-telling. 

If you’re struggling, how do you show up for yourself in honesty and truthfulness? I’d love to hear from you; please leave me a comment below.

If you found this post useful, please share it with your friends on Facebook, Twitter or Pinterest.

xoxo,

Debbie

Featured image courtesy of Fatma .M.

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