Tag Archives: women’s health

The Dark Side of Wellness

12 Replies

Project 50/50 - week 14 "Ready for Bed"

In the last few weeks, a handful of people from disparate parts of my life (an old friend, a new friend, a blog subscriber, students) have asked me, in one way or another, how I got myself all together, how I got so “wise”, how I can practice so much seemingly perfect wellness in my life. I shake my head and smile, humbly denying their compliments. But here’s my honest response:

The only way I have come to understand wellness (note that I do not necessarily say “practice” wellness) is because I have so intimately known un-wellness. I was an unusually depressed young child and a very rebellious adolescent. As a young adult, all of my early dysfunction manifested as a personality disorder that, fortunately for me, is among the most subtle and functional of all the personality disorders.

Yes, I practice Yoga, I married a really loving man, I have a meaningful and successful career, I try to eat well, I meditate once in a while and, most important and best of all, I am a loving mother and teacher. But the un-wellness still rears its head – oftentimes unexpectedly.

The dark side of wellness appeared a few weeks ago when I quietly, privately miscarried for the second time. As I lay on my bed accompanied only by strong cramps and forced surrendering, I decided that I never, ever want to go through that – the loss of hope, the lonely letting-go, the strange grief over something that was never really anything, the feelings of failure – again.  And never risking going through another miscarriage again means never trying to get pregnant again.  And, oh my god, I will never be pregnant again.  That time in my life is over.  Commence the grief.  And self doubt.  And an ungraceful transition into yet a new stage of life.

After I digested the reality that life doesn’t unfold as easily for my body as it once did, I momentarily disliked this version of me that is growing older. She is a bit grey in the temples, gets sore more easily than she’d like, has gained weight since hitting 35, is a bit unlike the woman she had always been – youthful, desirable, potentially fertile.  For someone who has always depended in part on her looks and youthfulness, the acceptance of being near 40 is a bittersweet experience, indeed.

So, this is why I am so “well”:  Because I know un-wellness, I make friends with it, and then I embrace it. I experience hideous self doubt, frustration, feelings of failure. But I look that un-wellness in the eyes. I see it, write about it, talk to Nik about it.  I accept it for what it is.

And then I take a deep breath and move on, a wee bit wiser and one step closer to wholly loving the present me.

The Beauty Secret They Don’t Want You to Know

Leave a reply

beauty-sale2

We’ve always done arguably stupid things to be beautiful, or be considered beautiful, but it’s actually so much simpler to be beautiful than we think.  

Proof of human stupidity in the name of attempted beauty:

Ancient Egyptian men and women viewed exaggerated cat-eyes as seductive, so they adorned their eyes with eyeliner which, for many decades, was made from copper … which, of course, led to eye infections, mental illness, and death.  The Victorian Era was a time in which elegant was en vogue, but the “elegant” dresses that appear so beautiful to the uninformed eye were complemented with corsets and bodices that caused women to pass out from lack of oxygen. In China, until as recently as 1912, young girls had their soft feet bound so tightly that their bones were crushed, manipulated, and altered forever, ultimately rendering the grown woman unable to balance or walk freely.

But we in In 21st century America are so much smarter than all that, right?  Well, let’s think about that.  The media tells American women that we must be rail thin, Caucasian, young, perky, and pouty, so we take dangerous diet pills, go on drastic crash diets, binge and purge, bleach our skin, straighten our hair, wear push-up bras, inject poisons into our face, and surgically alter our bodies – all in the name of beauty.  Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but none of that ever actually works to make you beautiful.  

Why?  Think about it.  How can someone be beautiful if they face their reflection with criticism, disdain, un-acceptance, or self-loathing? The world senses insecurity, people pick up on self-unacceptance, and women are, simply, less radiant when they don’t feel radiant.

The beauty secret that make-up companies, the media, and Hollywood doesn’t want you to know: 

Love yourself.  Sustained attraction to a person is reserved for those who exude spiritual beauty, for those who radiate from the inside out.  For a woman to achieve real lasting beauty, she needs more self-love, confidence, and passion than she needs make-up, surgery, or alterations to her physique.

When a woman holds her head up high as she walks, she is beautiful. When a woman takes the time to behold and appreciate her curves, she is beautiful. When a woman looks at her reflection in the mirror and focuses on what is unique and right, rather on all that brings her shame, she is beautiful. When a woman feels empathetic joy for a friend’s accomplishments, she is beautiful. When a woman strives to be strong in body and mind, she is beautiful. When a woman gives love to her children, runs the errands, does the laundry, and feeds her family with grace, she is beautiful. When a woman takes pride in what she does for a living, whether she mops floors, runs a medical practice, or practices law, she is beautiful. When a woman pursues her passions, she is beautiful.  When a woman gives of herself to those who need her, she is beautiful.  When a woman takes time to be alone and go within, to feel – and accept – who she really is, she is beautiful.

“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. ”  
– Audrey Hepburn 

~

Copyright © 2013   Unauthorized use and/or duplication of any material on this site without express & written permission from  Anitra Lahiri is strictly prohibited.

On Motherhood (originally penned June, 2009)

2 Replies

Kyan and Me, 2006

I always swore I’d never succumb to what the world expected a woman to be. I swore I would never try to be the All-American Superwoman. I would never be rail thin. I would never give up my name in marriage. I would never be silenced. I would never be passive. And I swore I would never swap my identity for motherhood.

My entire life, I was afraid of becoming a mother. People would ask me if I wanted children someday and always, without a moment’s hesitation, I passionately stated that as a feminist, I did not have to, and would not under any circumstance, have children. I thought that having a child meant that you had given up and given in to the oppressive idea that a woman’s place is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. I thought that desiring pregnancy was something for antifeminists who “didn’t get” that a woman could now dedicate her life to career and personal fulfillment. I thought that personal fulfillment could not truly be found in motherhood- that it had to be about oneself, entirely and solely. And so, I went about my life, for twenty-some years, declaring quite proudly that I would never be a mother. I thought that having children was for the weak.

And, being the strong woman I thought I was, once I finally admitted that I did want to be a mother, I swore that I would not lose my Self to motherhood. I would still practice Yoga. I would still value being beautiful. I would still take bubble baths and read novels. I would still be the me that I had been before becoming pregnant. After all, a true feminist doesn’t lose herself to anything, surely not something as quintessentially feminine as motherhood, right?

Then I became pregnant. And miscarried. And at the moment that I turned to Nik after looking at that dim ultrasound monitor, my heart wept in a way it never had before- not with the death of beloved pets, not with the loss of romantic loves, not with 9/11, not with the feelings of rejection we feel from the world at times. This was a whole new kind of mourning. At that moment, the whole world turned dark except for this one bright light that completely monopolized my spirit- the desire to be a mother. This child had been on its way, he had been mine, and I would fight with all of my might to get this being back in my life, back in my body, to make myself a mother and Nik a father.

When Kyan was born the following year (exactly one year later, to the day), I willingly gave myself to motherhood. The moment I first saw his little blue head emerge from me, I knew more positively than anything I had ever known in my life before, surer than my own name, that I had been waiting 31 long years to be with this person. The second that I reunited with him, I felt completely at home for the first time in my life. This was my son, and I was finally a mother.

Kyan is four years old now. I don’t practice Yoga regularly anymore. I rarely take bubble baths. I haven’t read one novel since the day he was born. There have been mornings when I don’t even brush my hair or look in the mirror. There have been days when I don’t even stop to take three conscious breaths. Many times, I have had to wonder who the hell I am anymore. Have I swapped my identity for motherhood? Yes. And I can’t think of a more beautiful way to spend my life and my energy right now. Will I find myself back someday? Yes, if I choose to. And then I may practice Yoga again every day. I may start caring more about my appearance. I may read more books. I might even start a blog like this one ;) .

Now I understand that bringing a life into this world and then losing yourself in loving that little person unconditionally and wholly, is actually for the strong.