{image via pinterest}

I recently finished the parenting memoir slash cultural analysis, Bringing Up Bebe, written by former Wall Street Journal reporter, Pamela Druckerman. As an American expatriate in Paris, Druckeman explores how the French raise their children. Apparently, there are some pretty significant differences between American and French parenting outside of just replacing a baseball cap with a beret on your baby. Who knew?

Even for those who are not parents or who never want to be, Druckerman’s book is fascinating as an exploration of cultural differences. While I’m prone to think that she might be slightly exaggerating some of the distinctions for the sake of the book, there are some really intriguing considerations.

Some things that I wouldn’t want to adopt from the French approach (as described by Druckerman): no snacking (I love snacks!), a heavy emphasis on physique, and very limited praise of children.  Some things I would consider: a greater emphasis on the marital relationship, treating children as beings capable of rational decisions, and ditching the guilt.

The last one is what really struck me in reading about Druckerman’s life in France. She describes the successful women she knows who are mothering, working, recreating, having sex, and taking long, leisurely vacations. And it’s not just that they seem to be able to do it all. It’s that they do it without feeling a huge bolder of guilt weighing on their backs as they partake in each part of their lives. It sounds simple, but anyone who has tried to juggle more than one role knows that it’s not.

The French, according to Druckerman, in some ways seem to be much more progressive than us ye little Americans when it comes to our expectations of what womanhood is. The French believe that a woman is not defined by a single role, and that her time spent lounging, or working on a project, or having a lavish dinner with her husband mid-week sans kids is just as important as being there to wipe every nose or clean every scraped knee. Some might call the French cold or dismissive. Druckerman would suggest that they simply have a more well-rounded sense of self. They apparently don’t just think that they deserve time to themselves. They take it, and with gusto.

Along with banishing the notion of feeling guilty, the French also seem to have a very different perspective on feeling proud. Druckerman points as example to the great (stereotypically female)American pastime of bitching. Okay, she doesn’t use that term, but what she’s referring to is the great Pain Olympics that seems to happen whenever women are together for a period of time. You might be familiar: One woman goes on ad nauseam about she was up all night with the baby and she won’t seem to latch to breastfeed and her husband is always at work and she can’t even take a shower and she has a book deadline due and she hasn’t made it to pilates all week. Then the other woman starts about how much she’s struggling to juggle all the balls in her court.

Druckerman explains that in American culture, there’s a certain sense that in order to feel validated and successful, one must be busy, overwhelmed, and struggle. It’s as if things are only worthy if they require an immense amount of suffering and sacrifice. While I would never assume that the woman telling me about her stressful week was explicitly looking for that type of validation, I see Druckerman’s point.

How often do we fall into the pattern of believing that in order for our endeavors to mean something, they must be hard? I know that this definitely shows up for me, and I also know that I’m not alone. I think it might be why it’s tough for me sometimes to make boxed macaroni and cheese. It’s not because I don’t love it, and it’s not because I I’m worried about consumed processed imitation dairy (though maybe I should be). It’s because it’s so easy to make! And since I love to cook and I know the value in making more homemade meals, why would I take the easy route? It might be because I carry this culturally-based looming sense that things should be harder than that.

Granted, many people make mac ‘n cheese without issue, but I think the point stands. Americans, and maybe women in particular, have learned that struggle equals value.  When I read this idea and started to really reflect, I realized that it’s truly pervasive. What’s so wrong with finding pleasure (even if the pleasure didn’t require tons of toil prior)? What’s so wrong with just being happy?

If you’ve read the book, I’m curious to hear your thoughts. If you’ve just read this post, I’m curious to hear your thoughts as well. Do you notice these things that Druckerman points out? Do you suffer for the sake of suffering? Do you feel guilty for not being able to do it all? Do make boxed macaroni and cheese?

Okay, so I’m a little late to the party. But hey, I like to make a statement, so it’s cool.

If you’ve been an avid follower of the self-love mecca, Medicinal Marzipan, (and why wouldn’t you be?), you may already know about the cool renovation project over there. Mara has done more than added a fresh coat of paint – she’s totally revamped her space and launched a stunning new site – MaraGlatzel.com – that is as resourceful as it is beautiful.

One of the coolest things about the whole she-bang is that Mara launched a fantastic new e-book along with the site. It’s called Body Loving Homework and it’s a collection of writing prompts that inspire you to create your own personal narrative. My professional, personal, and every other kind of opinion is that writing is one of the most powerful tools we have to access our truest selves (which was the basis for the Self-Discovery, Word by Word project and is also why I kicked off the Start Write Now series recently).

A collection of writing prompts sounds a little boring, and Body Loving Homework is anything but. Consider it your jump start to digging into the most important material in the world – what’s already inside of you. It’s an invitation (and roadmap) to incredible self-discovery. It covers topics from your emotional body to sex and intimacy to unraveling a media-fueled education (awe-some). Not only that, but it’s absolutely gorgeous. No, really. You have to see for yourself to know what I mean. So consider this your kick in the butt to check it out.

Have you come across any great self-love tools lately? Been writing as a means of self-discovery? Do share!

After nearly two years of focused work, with a fair share of bumps along the way, Helena has at last reached what her physician considers a healthy weight for her frame. She is eating nutrition-rich meals and hasn’t resorted to her trusty elliptical machine to ward off anxiety about donuts or job layoffs in more than a year. She has reconnected with the friends who, two years ago, told her that they felt disconnected from her, that they just couldn’t “get in.” Tonight they’re heading out to karaoke, an activity Helena used to adore because she could show off her powerful chops.

Would you call Helena recovered? In recovery? Partially recovered? Still in the grips of an eating disorder?

Think about that for a moment.

Now, would the label you assign change if I told you that Helena still counts calories almost every day? What if she only occasionally read nutrition labels – a former obsession – and only to check the amount of calcium and protein in her food? What if she still hates the way her legs look and cries regularly about not measuring up to her friends? What if instead she doesn’t hate the way that she looks, but is cautiously proud of her body – harboring fear, however mild, that her weight could shoot up? What if her food and weight obsessions were gone, but her perfectionism had translated into other areas of her life – like her work as a financial analyst?

Now what would call Helena? Fully recovered? Partially? In recovery? Nowhere close? If your label changed, think about why. On what did you base you assessment?

Assigning labels to the odyssey that is recovery is a challenge faced by clinical researchers, clinicians treating these individuals, and perhaps most significantly, individuals themselves. At the Academy for Eating Disorders international conference recently, I had the opportunity to hear Anna Bardone-Cone, Ph.D speak about her work in defining recovery.

Dr. Bardone-Cone recognized just how disparate definitions of recovery are across the literature on eating disorders. Looking at how various researchers defined recovery, we see that some do by the simple (though admittedly not so simple) restoration of weight, some by the absence of symptoms (e.g. restricting or binging), and some by more complex rubrics incorporating a person’s thoughts or attitudes. The problem is that when researchers are comparing treatments and other factors based on recovery that is defined differently, we really cannot compare at all.

There are other implications of a lack of consistent recovery definition as well. For one, individuals who struggle want to know what recovery will look like. While every single person’s journey will look different, it provides guidance and hope for individuals to understand just what they are working towards. It’s important, too, for individuals to know that recovery – full recovery, as I define it – is not simply about having a regular period (for females) or stopping their binge eating.

I am someone who believes that the idea of full recovery is real and can be attained by anyone with the right resources. These resources include a commitment to the process and a team of personal and professional support.

So what does full recovery look like? Like I said, the details might look different for different individuals, but I believe that recovery involves three main areas: physical, behavioral, and emotional. What this means is that those in full recovery are physically healthy and medically stable, are not using eating disorder behaviors, and they have developed a healthier attitude toward things like shape, weight, and food.

Does this mean that a person in recovery never bemoans the size of her thighs? Dr. Bardone-Cone says no, and astutely remarked in our workshop that we can’t expect those recovering from eating disorders to be super-people, free from the worries and concerns that are part of normal development and living in our society. We do of course hope that they have the skills to combat those thoughts when they arise, however. Occasional thoughts and concerns don’t mean a person isn’t recovered, just like occasional aches don’t mean that a person who had the flu once still has it.

Others prefer to use the terminology that is often used in circles of those who struggle with substance abuse and addictions and to refer to themselves forever as “in recovery.” Often the idea behind this semantic difference is that one will be aware and mindful of the possibility of returning to old habits in the face of stressors (as a person with a history of alcoholism might always need to be aware of the temptation to drink).  Personally, I respect any perspective on recovery that feels genuine and helpful to a person in maintaining health and happiness.

However you lay it out, the fact is that there is tremendous hope out there for those struggling with eating disorders, and for those who have struggled in the past. Despite recent press that paints a picture of recovery of elusive, it’s not at all. It’s difficult, sure. But it’s also attainable. If you’re still wondering about what recovery might look like, Aimee Liu’s new book, Restoring Our Bodies, Reclaiming Our Lives, is a fantastic resource full of first-person accounts of the recovery process.

Do you believe that full recovery is possible?

{Image Credit :: loswl}

When Diana Spechler, author of the soon-to-be-released novel about a weight-loss camp, contacted me to tell me about a new website she had created, I was decidedly curious. In her email, Diana described the site as a “place where people can anonymously post their feelings about their bodies.”

As I thought about the potential for this body-focused PostSecret-esque venture, I wanted to know what had prompted Diana to create the site, so I asked her to share with me its evolution. “When I was writing Skinny… I was terrified to write about my characters’ body image issues and relationships to food because I worried that the book would get published and everyone would know that I had body image issues… I had to get over that before I could write the book,” she said.

So Diana began pouring out her “secrets” – the dark thoughts about herself and her body that she found so shameful – in the novel.  She recalled, “I had to remind myself a million times along the way to be honest, to stop hiding. It wasn’t easy. But five years later, I feel better. I can talk about my own body image issues and eating issues much more freely. And that’s because I spent so much time telling my secrets in my novel.

Like many others, Diana found healing in sharing what she had perceived as unspeakable. She gave voice to the negative thoughts that plagued her and found that as she shared these thoughts, they became less powerful. They loosened their grip.

“It seemed miraculous to me, and I wanted to find a way to give that gift to others,” Diana told me. “I wanted to tell the world, “Just talk about it! You’ll feel better!”

And so Body Confessions was born. It developed as a place for women to feel connected. Diana feels that “pretending that the problem is something different from what it is harms all of us and compounds the shame we already feel. [It’s] so we can say the things we aren’t supposed to say, and so that other people can read the truth and feel less alone.”

But does connecting over a shared hatred for our bodies really do us any good? Could it be more harmful than helpful? Where is the line between releasing shame and spiraling into negativity drawn?

These the question that began to stir in my mind as I perused the site. What I found saddened me for the women who had written the “confessions.”

Take this one, from an anonymous visitor: There are two possible reasons God did not create me as pretty and beautiful as other women. Either He thought I’d be able to handle it. Or I am just not worthy. I’m leaning towards the latter because I just can’t handle this.

Other confessions are equally heartbreaking (and potentially triggering), ranging from complaints about the size of one’s tummy to struggles with binging and purging to certainty that one’s partner will cheat because of one’s size. There are also the occasional uplifting posts, such as this one: I love myself the way I am. Affirmative posts like this are certainly more the exception than the rule on the site, however.

Personally, I didn’t leave the site feeling any better about my body. I actually didn’t feel much of anything about my own body, but rather a sense of helplessness in wanting to take away the pain of those posting these messages.

However, Diana has found that the site makes people feel less alone. And Glamour recently shared it on own of their blogs.

Interestingly, and perhaps contradictorily, Glamour’s recent piece in its March issue on body image included research suggesting that negative body thoughts actually shape our brains in an unhealthy way, promoting even more negative thoughts.

Ann Kearney-Cooke, Ph.D., a Cincinnati psychologist who was quoted for the article, said, “Neuroscience has shown that whatever you focus on shapes your brain. If you’re constantly thinking negative thoughts about your body, that neural pathway becomes stronger—and those thoughts become habitual,” she explains. “Imagine a concert pianist. Her brain would have stronger neural pathways that support musicality and dexterity than someone who hadn’t spent her life practicing.”

So, what do you think?

___________________________________________________________________________________

___________________________________________________________________________________

Respond to the poll and then share your thoughts in the comments below. We want to know! Do you feel it’s healing to get those thoughts out of your mind and onto the computer screen, knowing that others have “been there?” Or does it fuel more self-deprecation? Have you found writing your negative thoughts down to be helpful in other ways? What has helped you in overcoming negative body image? Would you ever use this site?