Learning to Be Happy

One of my favorite things to do on my vacation was to take pictures of things that struck my fancy. I love art in all its forms: sculpture, painting, stained glass, metal work, architecture, etc., not to mention the written word or music.

We passed the sculpture of the horses above many times when we orbited the Picadilly Circus area. The detail and movement captured in this piece was awesome to me. Plus, my mom's a horse fanatic, so I wanted to show these pictures to her, too.

We didn't go to this restaurant (also in the Picadilly area), but I just loved the stained glass in the entrance. In fact, the whole building was interesting, with interesting sculptures all over it. You just don't see buildings like this where I live, so I'm always spellbound by the history and grandness of them when I'm given the opportunity. Not only because the U.S. is so much younger than the U.K., but in my rural, sparsely populated area, my ancestors just didn't have the money and resources to construct a lot of works of art like this.

Even the taxis were works of art in London! We got to ride in one of these famous black cabs during our stay, and I must say it was one of the most comfortable and stress-free rides I've ever paid for. Unlike other cities and countries I've been in, the driver didn't scare the bejesus out of me with his erratic, nerve-rattling driving. The vehicle was clean and roomy and the seats weren't lumpy and nasty. On a side note, I must say the National Rail train ride was also a wonderful experience, and Amtrak could really take some hints from them.

A few days before I left for this trip I visited my therapist Dr. K., and we came to a real eye-opening realization for me. She asked me how excited I was about my upcoming vacation, and I had to admit that for a number of reasons I wasn't really feeling it. Some of it was not feeling well, but a goodly portion of it was guilt: guilty that I was leaving my husband and daughter to fend for themselves; guilty that I was able to take the time and spend the money to do this frivolous, indulgent thing when so many people can't. And the flak I took months ago definitely put a damper on my anticipation, too.

I then realized that throughout my life I've often had trouble enjoying, anticipating or being happy about the good things in my life. Whether it was good grades in school, graduating college with honors, buying a house, adopting my child or falling in love, there was always something inside of me that kept me from feeling unbridled joy, or that I even deserved it. Some of it goes back to my childhood. Every Christmas I can remember being sat down by my grandmother and instructed not to "brag" about what presents I received that year. I was told other kids might not have been as fortunate as me and that I shouldn't make them feel bad. So I always downplayed or didn't say a word about what I got for Christmas, which bled over to birthdays or other times I might have received something special. Even now -- this very day -- when someone asks me how my England trip was, I get gripped with that rule in my head to not brag and rub people's noses in my good fortune, and I find myself fighting the urge to downplay my enjoyment.

But some of it definitely comes from my self esteem and weight issues. Every day in this society we are bombarded by the demonization, minimalization and ridicule of fat people. Fat people get inadequate medical care, get paid less in their jobs, and have often been the victim of bullies throughout their lives. We're stereotyped as lazy, slovenly, low-class and stupid. For years we didn't deserve decent clothing, and heaven forbid someone fall in love with a fat person, lest they be called a Chubby Chaser and suspected to have some ulterior motive.

This has all evolved into the dysfunctional, messed up way of thinking that I have. The biggest "aha" moment during my therapy session was that because I wouldn't let myself enjoy these material or emotional things in my life, I wound up turning to food to find those feelings of enjoyment and satisfaction. But of course, the sad truth was that the more I turned to food, the lower my self-esteem became and harder it became to enjoy the rest of my life.

The important thing my therapist told me was that even though I have been surrounded by these fattist attitudes and taught by my family to feel guilty about the good things in my life, I'm a free-thinking adult now. I don't have to follow the old rules and agree with the negative ideas anymore. I do deserve to be happy. And I deserve to feel good about myself.

An instance of this skewed thinking came up on our London trip. We stopped at a coffee shop with Internet access, and while my one travel companion got online to track down a British friend's phone number, the rest of us ordered coffee. I was the last one to order, and when I asked for a Mocha, the guy behind the counter seemed to smirk at me. When he walked away I looked over at my fellow female companion and she smiled and said, "He thinks you're cute."

"No," I scoffed. "He must have thought I sounded ridiculous with my hillbilly American accent."

A minute later he came back with our coffees, and when he handed me my mocha, he said, "Here's your coffee, darling."

We walked out of the shop and my friend immediately jumped on me. "He was into you! He didn't call me darling!"

We then got into a discussion how we both tend to dismiss flirtations and deny someone could actually be attracted to us. Funnily enough, when our Internet surfer returned and joined in our conversation, he said he was the exact opposite; he tends to think people are hitting on him when they actually aren't! I guess that just goes to show how differently our self-image can affect our perceptions of the world around us.

More pictures and England recollections are on their way. And in between some more morsels of wisdom -- if I can muster them up!