Happiness...

"Miserable and happy are not functions of what you have, what you look like, or what you achieve." ~ Geneen Roth

I've spent a lot of time over the past week or so reflecting on happiness.  Each of us has our own idea of what happiness is, how it is achieved, and how deserving we are of it.  It seems to me that, for as long as I can remember, I've always associated happiness with a lifestyle that is unachievable to me as someone who is profoundly overweight.  There is a simplistic idea embedded in my psyche that equates thin-ness with happiness.  I have this idea in my mind that, if I were thin, life would be significantly better.

You know that conversation you have in your head when you buy a Powerball ticket?  The jackpot is $200 million, and you buy your ticket with the, "Why not me?" question hanging in the air as the clerk hands you your potential fortune.  What would you do first?  Would you tell anyone?  Who would you tell first?  Would you quit your job immediately?  Would you donate a percentage of it to a church or a charity?  I love imagining what I would do first.  I love the idea of being in a position to actually help people in a significant and meaningful way.

In this same manner, I fantasize about being thin.  What would it feel like to sit on an airplane and have neither of my thighs touching an armrest?  I wouldn't have to worry about riding in a friend's car and not having the seatbelt fit.  What clothes would I buy?  How would I dress?  It's been years since I wore high heels - would I buy a boatload of 3-inch heels?  Would I join an indoor sports league and take up soccer again?  In high school I used to love to play golf on our local 9-hole course; would I be able to pick the clubs up again and play a round on a Florida course?  Would I take up a friend's offer to go out for a night of drinking and dancing?

I think what the quote above means is that we need to learn where it is that we find happiness, because losing weight isn't going to be the answer to it any more than winning the lottery is.  Perhaps that's why so many jackpot winners go broke so quickly after winning.  Happiness isn't in the things we buy, and it probably isn't going to be found underneath the layers of fat I'm shedding.  That's a big change in thinking for me. 

When I think about the happiest times in my life, it is almost exclusively tied to three things: people, travel, and learning.  For me, happiness lies in the moments shared with family and friends - memories of laughter, story-telling, and shared experiences.  "Remember that time Dad nearly burned down the vacation rental in Maine?"  Ahhh... good times, good times!  "Remember that huge blizzard when we were going to sled down the road, and when we got to the bottom the snowplow was coming straight at us?"  "Remember when we got to Paris and didn't have a hotel room booked, and we walked all over the city with our luggage trying to find somewhere decent with a room?" 

I, like many people who carry as much excess weight as I do, have battled clinical depression.  I am certain that it started as situational depression, but unequipped to handle the emotional consequences of bad choices I'd made, it became a long-term situation... and then I just kept making bad decision after bad decision, compounding everything.  If I didn't have two brilliant children (of whom I am immensely proud), I would call for a do-over... 'cause I think I can see how and where it all went wrong.  And it only took me 25 years to figure it out!

So it appears that losing this weight will not help me pay the IRS what they allege I owe them (dear sweet mother of God, if any of you reading this can fix that... talk about fantasy!).  It will not guarantee that I will find a man who is amazing and wants to share his life with me.  It won't even promise to make it possible for me to buy the clothes I want... after all, I'm still wicked short and decidedly un-wealthy.  Plus, designers don't generally create fabulous fashions for a 24" inseam.  It will not mean that I will have more time to do the things I wish I could do, or more money to do those things.

There's more to ponder here, but I'm starting to think that I'll be better off in a year or two if I keep my expectations for weight loss firmly planted in reality.  I can trust that I will be healthier a year from now.  My cholesterol will be lower.  My triglycerides will go down.  It will be easier for me to climb stairs, and I will have more energy than I do now.  I will probably feel more at ease in social situations, but being introverted is not going to change.  Who I am will not fundamentally change.  I will still prefer quiet settings to loud ones.  I will still need to remind myself that, just because someone doesn't like me doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with me.

Happiness, for me, would be having my entire family living within 2 hours' driving distance of each other.  It would mean that our children would know each other and be able to begin stories with, "My cousin and I..."  A place for family and friends to gather and share our stories and adventures in life.  That's where happiness is for me.  Size 6 or size 26, I think it's important to recognize that this is a weight loss journey - not a journey to nirvana.

Where does your happiness lie?

The Introverted Exhibitionist

When I was in college I worked at the front desk of the dormitory in which I lived. During one of our staff meetings a Myers-Briggs personality test was administered so that we could all ultimately get to know one another better.  When the results were revealed, most of the staff was surprised to hear my result: INFJ.  The first letter stands for Introverted. (Click here if you're interested in reading the full explanation for this personality profile.)  I don't come across as particularly introverted when I first meet people, and I believe that is simply due to having had excellent parents.  My siblings and I were all taught how to behave ourselves in public.  We traveled frequently, and we were required to dress nicely and be on our best behavior (which is very difficult for a little girl in an itchy dress, incidentally).  We were instructed in polite conversation and were expected to greet and speak with people of all ages.

When they explained the results to us at the next staff meeting, they told us that the primary difference between being Introverted and Extraverted is where you find your energy.  Introverts tend to recharge their batteries, so to speak, by finding a quiet place to be alone with their thoughts; whether it's a walk outside in the park or a cozy corner chair with a book, their energy is renewed and solace is found unaccompanied by other people.  Extraverts prefer to convene with others - share stories and ideas - and gather in groups to uplift one another's spirits. 

I lean towards the introverted side, but I also have a very strong need to be heard - to affect people and impart knowledge in some meaningful way, which seems rather extraverted to me.  It struck me while I was walking the other day that I'm something of an introverted exhibitionist.

I know after many years of therapy (and much reading of self-help books) that not wanting to be seen plays a significant role in my obesity.  Being morbidly obese almost gives a person his or her own personal cloak of invisibility in today's world.  Most people avert their eyes when they see a very large person, and I'm sure that most of them do that because they don't want to be caught staring.  That has almost exclusively been the experience that I have had, and for the most part, I'm comfortable there.

There are others, though, who gawk openly at fat people and, out of ignorance or hatred, choose to belittle with names, laughter, pointing of fingers, or outright assault.  Several years ago I was walking with a very fit, very attractive female friend, and we were heading to a bar.  A young man standing next to a bench actually made a moo-ing sound at me as I passed and sneered when I turned to see who was doing it.  I didn't acknowledge him in any other regard, and I know the friend I was with made some snide remark in my defense, but I couldn't tell you what it was because my face had turned crimson red, I could barely breathe, and I heard nothing else until we got to the bar.  She mercifully claimed she needed to use the ladies' room when we arrived, giving me a few moments alone to recompose myself.

The time I spent in pubs and bars in my early thirties with my two very, very good looking friends confirmed that I would rather suffer one humiliating moment every 10 years or so than spend every weekend trying to find gentle ways to stop the advances of every man who thinks he's got a right to hit on every woman he finds remotely attractive.  Women who are thin and fit are far braver than I am.  The two friends I mentioned are both extraverts, so I suppose they probably see it from a different point of view, but I loathe conflict.  It turns my stomach in knots when I have to tell someone something I know they don't want to hear.  I don't want to have to thwart anyone's attempts at flirtation.  I watched countless men approach them, many with a very forceful way about them, and I was frightened by it.  It didn't seem to frighten my friends, but I knew then as I know now - I'm not equipped to handle outright advances like that.

I have chosen to lose weight for a plethora of reasons, though the top reason is to extend my life expectancy.  A part of me dreads what happens at the other end of this weight loss, though, because I'm truly not ready to be seen.  As an introvert, I'd really just like to make my way about the planet seeing what I want to see and being seen only when I choose to be.  It's just too bad that reality doesn't seem to be agreeable to my preferences.  Anyone have any suggestions on how to overcome the fear of being seen?