Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise

This morning I put on a t-shirt that has been folded at the bottom of a dresser drawer.
At one point it was my favorite top to wear.
In the last three years it hasn't seen sunlight.
Why?
Because the last time I wore it someone asked if I was pregnant.



I don't think I am speaking just for women when I say that the issue of body image and self-esteem is a real daily struggle. We don't have to be told by the media what shapes, sizes, and colors a "healthy body" is supposed to look like; we already know. And we know best when we stand in front of the mirror, or see a candid photo of ourselves, or listen to words spoken from the mouths of babes regarding our appearance.

A healthy person is supposed to fall within their designated BMI.
A healthy person is supposed to be flexible and have good balance.
A healthy person is supposed to have strong clean fingernails.
A healthy person is supposed to hold a kale salad in one hand and a acai detox smoothie in the other.
A healthy person is supposed to smile and be open about everything going on in their lives.
A healthy person is supposed to take selfies in exotic places with captions like "Only 14 miles to the top!" or "Greenland today, Taiwan tomorrow!"

So what about those of us who don't fit all (if any) of those Wikipedia-approved descriptions?
Does that make us an UNhealthy person?



The past three years of my life have been an interesting journey in the notion of health. When I felt the need to move on from a place that I love dearly and into something new I was at my heaviest--weight-wise and emotion-wise. I wasn't eating well--heck, I was hardly eating at all--and was tired, drained, and confused. I spent the next year taking off some of that weight exploring new places by moving my legs and (in the process) endured multiple sunburns, scars, and poisonings. (Systemic poison oak and a nasty spider bite in three months. Bad luck, yo.) I spent a snowy winter wearing a constant sinus infection. I started passing out at work. I was diagnosed with a heart problem. Before the first two years of adventure were up, I found myself frequenting doctors' offices.

During my first cardiologist appointment, Dr. S looked at me and asked this question: "Caitlin, do you think you are a healthy person?"

I didn't smoke, drink excessively, or do drugs. I wasn't feeling depressed or overly anxious. I was hiking thirty miles a week and had lost ten pounds since my last weigh-in a year earlier. I ate three meals a day and could carry fifty pounds. Yes, I was healthy.

He sighed. "No. No, you're not a healthy person."

And no amount of hot yoga or chia seeds or CrossFit was going to fix me.



As we in the American culture test and calculate and screen what is Good For You, and through that determine what is Bad For You, perhaps we are coming to harmful conclusions. The World Health Organization defines health as "a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity." We are so focused on the physical and mental part of this that we are actually causing some of the social stresses. We are telling people who is in and who is out of the "healthy" box we have created. 

And for those of us who fall outside the boundaries, the act of getting healthy may be the most unhealthy part of our lives. 


Pouring out finances and making time for the machines at the gym. Focusing on our Beach Body and planning far-away summer adventures in the name of self-care. Posting bare-stomach photos and keeping the social media world updated with every mile we have jogged. 


Boosting personal self-esteem? Yes. 

Encouraging social well-being within a community? ...I don't have an answer for that yet.

Gym memberships. Superfoods. Training technology.

Healthy. Wealthy. Wise.



I am in the midst of getting healthy. And I say that with a little irony because the fact of the matter is I, as a woman with a heart defect, may never be considered healthy again. Which is okay. Because for the first time in years I can ride my bike to work. I can laugh when a preschooler pokes a pimple on my nose. I can do a sassy dance when I look in the mirror. 


So I am going to wear my favorite shirt again.