Thought Experiment: The Me of "Could Be"

This is the third and final installment of a series on my personal account of psychological bullying and the long term effects thereof. Here I try to imagine how life may have been different had I been spared that experience.

     When I was really young, I believed that I could be anything I wanted when I grew up.  Being brought up in the 1960's & 70's I had a father who simultaneously encouraged me to dream of big and lofty goals while believing that a college education would be unnecessary for his daughter who would simply marry well and have a nice life with a good provider. At eleven, I wanted to be a doctor, a pediatrician to be exact. With the women's movement in full swing there was a certain amount of hope that this was possible. I imagined my life taking care of children and making a difference in the world. I also dreamed of being a wife to a fellow physician and having a large brood of happy children. I truly believed that I had what it would take to attain it all.
     By the time I hit high school, after years of continual ridicule, I no longer believed in myself or that I could achieve anything. I felt hideous and repulsive all the time.  I took refuge in music and writing. While my friends dated and experimented with relationships, I stayed home and read about psychology. I wound up marrying the first boyfriend I ever had and I did everything within my power to try to make it work, but there were indelible flaws which could not be fixed. It took me 15 years to accept things would never change and so my childbearing years were wasted in a marriage that reinforced the worst possible beliefs I held about myself. Even after I was out on my own, I worried I wouldn't make it and as independent as I was, the fear was near paralyzing!  No matter what friends saw in me that was good, valuable, skillful or otherwise, and no matter how much they said it to me, inside, I never believed in myself. Inside I was a nothing taking up space in a world where the future seemed dim. I longed to have the confidence and self determination that I was inspired by in others. I just couldn't find it. If I'm honest, I can say that I put myself in situations, jobs and even some relationships that nurtured my self-hatred.
    At 52, I still struggle to some degree with self-loathing. I can be cruelly abusive to myself with my thoughts and there are days that I have to work to not say horribly hurtful things to myself in the mirror.  There are also bouts of sadness.  Mostly however, I have worked through these feelings. They have far less power over me than they used to and I am able to acknowledge, accept and appreciate many qualities that I possess which are good. I have a great job, wonderful friends and a life full of joy, creativity and new experiences. Today, I like who I am on the inside... it's the packaging that bears witness to my past.
    But what if I was never relentlessly ridiculed?  What if I never lost the belief that I had the character to achieve my dreams?  What if the bullies did not succeed in tearing me down? What if encouragement shaped my life rather than insults? What if that awkward precocious 11 year-old grew up unimpeded and ran the show that is my life? How would my life be different?  Well, perhaps in a parallel universe that is how it played out. Let's ponder some of these answers...
     That precocious little girl I started out to be would have held on to per potential and never have put up with taunts and jeers in false hope to gain someone's affection. She would have known that people like that aren't worth her time.  She would have worked harder academically throughout junior high and high school and been close to the top of her class. She would have been involved in brainier pursuits along side her music and used her stubbornness on a debate team or speech club. Success in high school would have allowed her to apply to college and receive scholarships and aid to help her study whatever she chose. She may have held on to the dream of becoming a physician or she may have gone in a completely different direction. Perhaps, like the real Lori, she would have studied psychology, only she would have continued on to achieve a PhD.  She would enjoy success rather than fear it. She would have attained mastery over her body and emotions. She would be proud of her physical strength rather than be embarrassed by it. She may have gotten involved in a team sport or gymnastics which always made her feel alive. That version of me would have had dates throughout high school. Her positive attitude, friendly nature and willingness to be helpful all wrapped up in a toned body would be a combination of qualities which would be attractive to people in general but perhaps also to boys. She would be more open and far less afraid of being hurt. She would know deep inside that she was strong in character and resilient in the face of challenge. That girl... she would be unstoppable.
     The downside of being that girl is that I would have different people in my life. I cannot predict who those people would be or what qualities they would possess. To that I must say that I love the people in my life now as the woman I have become. They mean the world to me and I could not imagine my life without them in it.  So, if I were somehow given the chance to magically go back in time and do it over again with different choices, I am not sure I would do it. I am more than the sum total of my experiences: I am all of those plus all of the relationships in my life.  That would be an awful lot to risk, not knowing that the outcome would be as good as where I am right now, today. After all, nothing is certain, even when things are easy.
     The point of all of this writing is to make it perfectly clear with detailed examples that bullying through ridicule does real damage. It changes you from who you were meant to be into something and someone else. It limits your potential because you think less of yourself as a result. But it does not sentence you to a terrible life. There are still plenty of choices to make along the way and there are many wonderful experiences to be had after the bullying days are done.  I am glad I had the chutzpah to take a good hard look back at this demon from my past. What the result of sharing it all in a public forum might be remains to be seen. Regardless of any particular outcome, I can look out and say:  I am here. I survived. I have learned. I have grown and I thrive. If I have to carry around excess weight as an external representation of my past, then so be it.  Neither the bullies nor the fat defines me now. I get to define myself and write the rest of my life story!

It's Still Personal

This is a follow-up to my previous blog post on bullying, "It's Personal"
 which you may wish to read before proceeding if you have not previously done so. 

     What happens when you are told by psychological bullies on a daily basis in your formative years that you are fat, ugly, undesirable and indeed unlovable?  At the start you disbelieve it rather vehemently. Quite quickly after the initial reaction, you begin to question the information and look for evidence as to determine whether it is or is not true. Our brains are wired, to look for patterns and so it accepts confirming more readily than disconfirming data. Next, a confirming belief is formed which is reinforced every day when you hear again that you are fat... ugly..., etc. The belief deepens and becomes more generalized into a self-image. The self-image is accepted by the unconscious brain which then drives behavior so that the belief becomes reality. This is manifest in the body as you gain more and more weight which renders you to many as more and more ugly... Further reinforcement occurs with every suggestion for weight loss and every rejection; large, small, real or imagined; creating a cycle of behavior both conscious and unconscious until you no longer simply believe, but rather know with certainty that you are indeed fat and ugly which makes you undesirable and therefore unlovable. This is the effect of relentless ridicule and believe me when I tell you: It's personal.
     It should be noted that I was never a skinny girl, however I was not fat either.  In my early teen years, I was not particularly curvy, but rather more muscular. I was indeed quite strong and though not involved in organized sports, I could play physically for hours in football, basketball, running bases, etc. When I look back at pictures of myself during the time when I received the brunt of ridicule, I did not have a fat body, but a solid one. I certainly felt fat between my ears though,  and as I have stated previously: As you think, so you become.
     My adolescence is documented in detail in multiple journals, but I need not consult them when it comes to this issue.  I remember wanting one thing during that time: a boyfriend. It's what the other girls around me had and they seemed to be having so much fun (when they weren't over reacting, falling apart, fighting, breaking up, reconciling, etc.) and they were getting kissed and touched all the time. I tended to like the smart, artistic type and went from crush to crush like every other girl only my affections without fail went unreciprocated. Every rejection was internalized - swallowed both literally and figuratively - and I began gaining weight. The weight became the reason for all things negative in my life. Countless times you can find a litany of self-loathing emotion followed by the solution, "I need to lose __ pounds. Or else!" or some such permutation.  At first it was was 10 pounds in junior high school and then it crept up slowly over the years until when I was at the end of high school it became 30 or 40 pounds.
    The more rejection I perceived, the more weight I gained. The more weight I gained, the more ugly and less desirable I felt. What I understand now that I did  not back then was that the feelings of self-loathing I kept on the inside were played out through my behavior in ways that perpetuated more rejection.  How?  By ignoring any signals that a person of the opposite sex might like me, or by sabotaging my own chances by acting mean or tough or even worse-cutting them down before they could cut me down.  On a conscious level, my weight was the barrier between me and what I wanted: to be loved.  On an unconscious level it was a shield and armor, protecting me from even risking rejection. So, there were no dates and no boyfriends.  I attended dances with male friends and had fun, and was fun to be around. I used my sarcasm, wit and clowning around to be sure that everyone was laughing because if they are laughing with me, they weren't laughing at me!
     The trend continued after graduation, this time out in the work force and socially out in the bar scene: I would be attracted to someone, they would not return the attraction and I would feel rejected. You guessed it - I gained more weight, reinforced the self-loathing which proved the programming in my mind.  I would look at myself in the mirror and say the most hateful things, sometimes out loud. I took over the role of bully and turned it onto myself in spades.  I was harder on me than any bully ever was!
     When I was twenty-one, a man walked into work and he was kind of cute. After about 10 months of working together, we were transferred together. A new environment was rather conducive to feelings of connection.  We started dating secretly.  One night we were getting ready to leave work and go out together when the body-building manager asked my new boyfriend to go out with the guys. He said he couldn't because he had made a promise to me. What the other guy did not know was that I was standing off to the side out of his line of view when he said, "Oh man, you don't have to go out with her. Tell her I'm making you work late."  I felt nauseous at such disdain and wished I could disappear. What an awful position my date was put into! But he took it in stride, glanced over and winked at me before saying, "No. I want to go out with Lori. I'll catch you guys another time."  I straightened up, smiled, walked into the other guy's view and said, "Thanks!" to my beau. I finally had a boyfriend! Looking back now it could be said that simply having a boyfriend was more important to me that who he was or what the relationship was like.  It felt good and it occurred to me that since it took so long for someone to actually want me, I better hold on. Even though I had some doubts, I believed that good communication could fix anything and we were married less than a year later.  
     Just before we got married I went on one of those medically supervised liquid diets and lost 40 pounds in a month. I was still a bit overweight with 20 pounds to go, but felt much better about myself. Although there was physical intimacy beforehand, I also thought being thinner would help out in that department too, once we were married and unrestricted. I was very wrong. In fact, nothing could have been further from the truth. The systematic rejection began almost immediately and by the eighth month of marriage my new husband had withdrawn every form of physical contact and affection from me. This became the greatest and by far the most painful and psychologically damaging rejection of my life. I shut down emotionally and felt trapped. By the end of my third year of marriage I had not only regained the 40 pounds I had lost, but added another sixty.  Then we moved to our new house out in the mountains, 75 miles away from everything I knew.  Depression set in quite severely and another 15 pounds came along with it.  A year later the self-hatred became unbearable. I knew something had to change or I was going to die so I started to attend Overeaters Anonymous, which started me losing weight (more than 50 pounds) and gaining emotional strength.  I started working on me for real and found a therapist for both me and my husband.  

Important note: It needs to be stated at this point that my husband was a good man. He had lots of wonderful qualities. He was honest, loyal, trustworthy and a wonderful provider. He loved me and saw wonderful things in me. He sent me to college and allowed  me to achieve my bachelor's degree. There were many good things about my life with him. I simply wanted more than a roommate. (Added after publishing)

    In therapy, along with job stress, my husband blamed (are you ready?) my WEIGHT for his lack of interest. This, even though 1) he started dating me when I was heavy 2) he payed no more attention to me after I lost weight than before and 3) he pulled his affections from me before I regained weight.  My mind exploded as I began to process what he said and all of the insults, jeering and tawdry song lyrics flooded back into my mind and confirmed, this time beyond doubt, that those boys from my childhood were right all along!  Fat, ugly, undesirable and unlovable - that's me!  After all, if my own husband rejected me, I truly was nothing. I felt that way for years in therapy as I tried to face my demons and save my marriage in which I remained through another move, this time 800 miles, and a dozen more years before circumstances arose to cause me to reevaluate myself, my marriage and my life.
     In the mid 1990's I got my first computer with a modem which through AOL got me connected to people from all over the country and beyond.  I met a man in a chat room one night and quickly found myself baring my soul to him both online and on the phone too. I knew pretty early on that I was having an emotional affair with this man and I knew it was wrong.  On the other hand he was filling a need in me that husband refused. He payed attention to me and without seeing me, desired me.  In our own way we fell in love, at least as in love as you can be with someone you've never actually met.  After over a year of corresponding and telephone conversations the opportunity arose for us to meet at an airport. This was back in the days when you could meet someone at a gate.  We spent all of 45 minutes together, but it was a life-changing experience for me because he did not reject me. Shortly after we met, the guilt set in for both of us and we chose to stop communicating, but I walked away with a gift: That man wanted me like crazy and he made me believe it... and it was personal!
    Once I believed that one man wanted me,  I had to begin to face the things I believed about myself which held me back and kept me in my dead-end marriage. As that emotional affair was coming to an end another one was growing. He too was 1000 miles away  and this time when the opportunity arose, I was certain when I met such an intelligent, successful, beautiful man I was sure to be rejected.  Sometimes, it's wonderful to be wrong. Again I was confronted with a man whose desire matched my own... and this meeting did not occur at an airport, but a hotel.  When I got home, I began planning my divorce. After all, the belief that I was not desirable was shown to be false not once, but twice. The data was confirmed and I had to get free, not to be with the man who opened the door, but to open myself up to possibilities where I lived.  And so I did.
     Not long after my divorce I met a man who was a lot younger and a lot more open than I had ever been. For seven years he helped challenge a lot of my false beliefs. He made it understood that I could be desired at any weight because sexiness lived more between my ears than in the shape of my body. I learned too that I was sexy because I was sexual. Those were major lessons to be learned and I have kept them with me to this day. Some men, who are not shallow, really do see beyond the package and treasure what lies within.
     So now I know that I am lovable because of qualities in my character despite what my outward appearance may be at any given time. I know that I have good skills to bring to a relationship; ones that nurture and deepen to help it last. I have always had  wonderful friends in my life whether or not I am in a relationship and I live a small but wonderful life. All of these experiences and many others have worked together to make me who I am today. I believe I am a good, loving and compassionate person, that I work hard and play hard.  I do not let my physical weight stop me from any experience. I go places and do things. I even get on stage with an improvisation class, in front of an audience. I am smart, funny and open. Most importantly, I think I'm a good friend and if that is true, then my life is a success. I choose happiness!  I choose it every day.
 
Afterward:
     I can still become attracted to someone who is not interested.  That's just part of life. No one is liked by everyone! Sometimes, I admit, those old ugly feelings of rejection come up and I swallow them down and my weight still fluctuates in response. I lose weight when I am with someone and gain it when I am not. I hate it, and often I hate me for it. I remain my own worst enemy. That's the residual affect of the bullying that occurred 40 years ago. I don't blame or hold animosity towards the bullies. My own psychology did and continues to do more damage than they did. It can't get more personal than that.
    At present, there is another bully in my life, and that is society itself. After all, it is the overweight population that receives the most open ridicule nowadays. We are fair game! It's everywhere from the playground to the White House. Skinny is what everyone is told and programmed to desire. Boys in particular are targeted to believe this.  Just look at the marketing we are bombarded with: It has reared generations of shallow men. In fact, I have several male friends who talk in my presence about what is hot to them and what is not. I never fit the description and they talk as though I am not even there. Sometimes those old feelings come back and I feel less than human as I listen. I would like to rid myself of this leftover remnant though I am unsure what psychological work I need to do to accomplish it. Perhaps writing these very words is part of the process. If I do achieve complete freedom from  my past, will I also be free of the behaviors that keep me fat? Even if the weight remains I long to be free of those feelings and the biggest bully of all... the really personal one... the one within myself... 
     All in all, I can't complain.  In fact people who know me would tell you that I am one of the most well adjusted people around. I am a critically-thinking realist with rational perspective on myself, others and the world.  Above all, I am grateful for everything and every experience I have had - bad, good or indifferent.  No one escapes the fact that we all carry emotional baggage from our past.  It's personal! So what?  Life is good!

Middle-aged Dating Escapades: Part I

     In the thirteen years since my marriage ended, I have had some interesting experiences in dating.  I also had a long-term live-in relationship thrown in there for five years, but that has been over for, well, five years, so I have had time to collect some pretty silly and sometimes outrageous stories.  In fact the most horrendous dates make the best stories, so I always feel like I have gotten "something" out of each one. Being unconventional (Really?), I am starting with the most recent.  I will then go back and chronicle some of the more colorful stories of the past in future posts.  

     I have been on Plenty-of-Fish, a free online dating site as LoriS1313 on and off for several years.  I had tried Match.com and eHarmony in the past, but they became cost prohibitive so I chose to stick to the free version of PoF. My profile had been hidden from public view for two years as I had been in a yearlong doomed-to-fail illicit relationship with a married man who inevitably broke my heart and from which it took me a year to recover and be ready to put myself back "out there." About four months ago I decided to take the plunge and see what kind, if any "fish" were biting. 

    It is a well known fact that I am weird and that I am perfectly content with my own weirdness. I know who I am and what I am and try very hard to be real about myself.  In fact, if you know me and you click on the link to my profile up there, you will see how brutally honest I am about myself.  I make it known that I am a real woman, not some skinny model and what my political and religious views are along with describing what I want in a man and relationship.  I attempt to state all of this in a witty, humorous somewhat self-effacing way.  (Comments welcome:  I can always improve that dang profile!).  Also, my photographs are very recent and I do my best to portray myself in such a way that the reader  knows that "what they see is what they will get."  To me this is the most honest way to be and prevents a lot of time-wasting trying to figure out what is true, what is embellished and what are simply lies.  What I have come to learn however is that I am rather unique in this regard. 

     Now let's go back about nine weeks.  I had just had a pretty funky experience with a man (we'll get to him at a later date) and was doing my best My Cousin Vinny "I'm through with this guy!" impersonation when I get a very humorous message from Don.  Don's profile was a bit sparse, but the humor got my attention, so I responded, and it began.  Within a week we had progressed to talking on the phone.  Soon we were spending hours at a time talking about everything from politics to religion to music to feelings to grieving the loss of our fathers, etc.  Communication was great.  He seemed like the perfect combination of sensitive and masculine.  We have tons in common, even use some of the same quirky phrases. He is smart, funny, talented, musical, an amateur photographer, employed, self-sufficient, communicative, etc.  He texted me  "Good morning" and little quips throughout the day.  Appropriately attentive without going overboard. What luck!

     Experience has taught me to enjoy the newness feelings while keeping my feet firmly planted in reality.  In other words, I know better than to get my hopes up.  Keep reading...  you now where this is going.  

     Four weeks into this telephonic relationship, portions of our conversations were spent flirting and talking about an impending relationship.  Don often asked, "What will you do if you fall in like with me?"  I asked him the same question back always assuring him that we would cross that bridge if and when we get to it.  At this point I became anxious to meet.  We were investing quite a bit of time in each other and it was clear that we enjoyed each other and there were little tender feelings beginning to germinate. This was a "call for action." In order to protect my sensibilities since I was still in a place of ration, and possibly my heart if it went much further I expressed my desire to meet.  "We will have to do that soon," Don replied.  In fact that reply was received on multiple occasions whenever I broached the subject of actually meeting to learn if what we were experiencing on the phone had substance and merit.

    After a week of expressing how important it was to me that we meet, I announced that I was taking myself out on a photography outing to the zoo over the weekend. My plan was to go to either Milwaukee Zoo or Lincoln Park Zoo.  Don said that if I go to the Brookfield Zoo (my last choice) then to let him know and he will meet me there.  Now, I know that he told me this during a phone conversation at 1:30AM while he was quite inebriated and feeling playful.  But, weird and rational though I may be, I am always, first and foremost a girl.  So guess where I went?  You got it!  I took myself to Brookfield.

    When I got myself settled into a parking space at the zoo, I sent him a cutesy, cheesy (OK, lame) poem text.  I don't remember the whole thing but part of it was: I am at the zoo! You could be too! What will you do?

    A few minutes later I get his response.  "Good morning! Which zoo?"

    Right then I knew I was in trouble because his response told me he didn't remember our conversation and if he didn't remember THAT, there was no way he remembered his promise to meet me there.  Crap!  

    Keeping it light and positive I replied, "Brookfield!  Are you coming?"

    About an hour later, I get his response, "I am trying to get there. How long will you be there?"

    Trying to get there?  TRYING?  What the hell?  Either you are coming or you are not.  What kind of game is he playing?

    "I just got here. They are open 'til 6." I texted back complete with smiley face even though my fingers could have pierced the little QWERTY with each letter pressed.

    "OK." was his response.

    It's a good thing that I don't need to be in a group to have fun or keep myself amused!  In fact I have gotten quite comfortable doing things on my own when need be.  (Don't get me wrong: I'd MUCH rather be with a friend or group!) So, with or without him, I was perfectly content photographing animals and watching people.  Around 1PM I got hungry and only hesitated about 30 seconds wondering if I should wait until what I hoped was his impending arrival before I grabbed myself an overpriced salad at one of the concessions. 

    At 2PM Don actually called.  He confessed that he was horribly hung over from his drinking the night before.  I was assured that he does not usually drink to excess and this was quite rare. Still, I was hopeful. He still had 4 hours to make it there! OK, so hopeful sometimes means stupid or gullible.  But hey! It's positive!

    By 4PM the skies darkened and opened with large torrents of rain. I took refuge in a gift shop, invested $9 in a bubble umbrella, requested an extra plastic bag to protect my camera and then proceeded to the African exhibit to hang with the gorillas because it was becoming ever more clear that watching a Silver-back through a telephoto lens was the closest thing I was going to get to a man that day!

    Sure enough, at 5PM the phone rings yet again and this time, instead of fostering false hope, he simply apologized.  Although I was understandably disappointed, I expressed only compassion and understanding.  Magnanimous of me, don't you think?

   We talked later that night and the next night and the next.  I reiterated how important it was that we meet and why. He agreed each time and gave me some permutation of "soon" each time.  After another week of talking, flirting and dreaming together, I asked him for a specific date.  He promised me that after work the following Wednesday or Thursday, we would meet.  Whew!

    The week came and went.  Excuses of overtime and condo association meetings came up.  We didn't meet. Again, I expressed concern and stated even more emphatically that in order to protect myself we MUST meet and that it had to happen soon.  I gave a tentative deadline of Independence Day weekend which at that point was two weekends away.  He agreed that this was reasonable. This was a generous amount of time to give him to pull his act together, choose a date and get this initial meeting over with.  

   Now throughout all of this, Don would proselytize about how most men are lame, how they play games and how he just didn't understand it.  He would say that a lot of women are lame too and they lied about who they were or the baggage they had from old relationships, etc. (Do you think perhaps he protests too much?  We'll see!) Also when we spoke on the phone, Don would always express his keen interest in having me come over to his place and listen to music, hear him play his guitar or mandolin, or to watch movies.  I told him I would love to do that, but we HAD to meet in public first.  I would not compromise my safety for him or anyone else.  He agreed that this was wise.  So I did the research and found out where the halfway point was between us.  We were only an hour away from each other, which was no big deal. Right?   Well, of all the times we talked, his big concern was the distance between us and this seemed to put him off.  To me it was just something we would have to figure out if it turned out we liked each other in person. 

    Last weekend was Independence Day and we talked about meeting Sunday which he nixed because it was too hot and I had to be back home by 6 to get ready to attend a Firemen's Ball.  But when we talked Sunday night, I told him that we were meeting the next day because I was coming down by him.  He only had to tell me where to meet him. His only response was, "Really? OK"   

    Monday, July 4th, I texted Don to "Rise and shine" because I was looking forward to head down to meet him.  He didn't respond. An hour later I called him and left an excited message that I was jumping in the shower and was going to start driving south and needed to know where to go.  An hour went by. Then two.  A text came through that he didn't feel well and would call me in awhile. At that point I decided I would not be taking that call.  When he called later that day, he didn't even leave a message.  Enough said.

   The reality of his reluctance to meet me caused me to take pause and evaluate our interactions again.  Looking back, about a week into our communication when talking about our mutual enjoyment of photography, I asked him to look at my albums on Facebook. He kept saying he wasn't a Facebook person.  I get that, however I really wanted to share my photography with him.  Then the week before Independence Day weekend, I asked him to remind me his mail address.  He gave it to me and I immediately sent him an email with actual photography attached as well as links to more photography and the blog post that I wrote about how my dad taught me patriotism.  These things are very important to me!  When I told him that night that I sent him the email, he said that he saw it on his phone but couldn't look at anything until he went on the computer.  HE NEVER DID IT!  How much effort does it take to flip a switch and sign on to your email in order to look at something that someone who you say you care about wants to share with you?  How much?  Is it that difficult?  That time consuming?  

    So Wednesday morning, two days after my final attempt to meet this man, I received a text in the morning, "Hi Ron Pauls new book rocks!"

    I waited about 15 minutes and replied, "Hi! Cool!"

    Awhile later I get "Hm"

    "?" was my immediate reply.

    "You still wanna talk?"

    This was a tough one.  Why?  Because I really enjoyed our conversations.  They were fun. HE was fun.  I thought about it for some time. But ultimately I could no longer hang with the game playing and over an hour later, I replied, "Yes, I do! Face-to-face."

    I haven't heard from him since.  Therefore, I have added an "e" to his name and quickly turned him from "Don" to "Done!"

    As for me?

    Batter up!