#makeitok is a hashtag for those of us who want to end the stigma around mental illness. For those of us who want talking about and attending to mental health to be a normal, accepted, an “ok” part of life.
In the last few years I’ve been really impressed by the differences in the shapes and sizes of the bodies in advertising. Even cellulite is allowed now, officially.
All kinds of things that were once sort of taboo to talk about, or seen as disappointing or embarrassing, have become very widely accepted and even celebrated.
You are you, and that is okay.
That is our official policy.
And we will even design some advertising around it.
And post on Instagram about it.
. . .
I don’t actually think this is all posturing. I actually feel really hopeful about all this change.
But I do wonder, if we’re being honest–is this stuff that we’re saying is okay–is it really okay? Are we standing behind that declaration? Or are we just saying it?
Like, yes, we know deep down that each human is on their own colorful journey, that everyone will have their own struggles or their own characteristics, and that we want to be very accepting . . .
But what about the comments or conversations that don’t go on Instagram?
What about the accidental messages that are sent when the two or three heavier people in the workout class get left on the outside of the cliques?
What are people internalizing when the assumptive goals and programs the gym offers always start with something about losing weight, looking better?
Or what about when we create these communities where we hold “mental health” events and keep saying stuff like “anxiety is normal” or “it’s okay to struggle,” but then . . . you don’t actually witness anyone feeling the safety to raise their hands and say, “hey guys, I’m actually falling apart now, like in real-time, I think I need some help.” . . . ?
I live with a good amount of anxiety, and I’ll tell you what, it is not a walk in the park for my best friend who shows up for me in the anxiousest moments (you’re welcome dictionary). Anxious energy, depressed energy–it can be really difficult to be around. Your anxious friend may be on the lookout for reasons to label you a threat. Your depressed friend may not seem to appreciate you and all the love you’re showering on them, because today they literally can’t appreciate anything. And that is not easy to sit with, as the person showing up, “making it okay.”
It’s so easy–even trendy–to say “We all struggle with mental health sometimes, it’s okay that you do, too!” It feels good for a minute to raise our hands and say “Yeah, I actually have anxiety, too” and then to have a bunch of people nod their heads and say “Mmmm! Thanks for sharing!”
And these aren’t bad things. These are step 1. Step 1 used to be taboo. But step 1 has become the norm. A trend. We made it okay to at least SAY that it’s all okay.
. . .
I can’t recall in which book or talk or maybe podcast, but I heard one of my favorite authors, Jon Kabat-Zinn (who helped popularize meditation and other eastern practices and ideas in the western world) express some concern over the trendiness of yoga: It’s fantastic that it’s more accepted and accessible now, but as the west becomes drenched in yoga classes and yoga workouts–are we losing some of the deep, life-changing principles that have been at yoga’s core for centuries?
In other words: Everyone “does yoga” now. But . . . how much depth in yoga traditions is being forgotten or neglected?
It’s an unfortunate side effect of trends–one that maybe we can work to mitigate: The popularization of good, true, loving principles is wonderful, but the more popular the message, the easier it is to posture, to put on a show, but to go no further than lip service.
When that happens in areas where people have felt left out or ashamed–personality, interests, sexual identity, poverty, mental illness, weight and body-type, race or ethnicity, abilities . . . the list of reasons society through history has given people to feel inferior is endless–when the posturing of acceptance and inclusivity happen in areas where people have felt left out or ashamed, it can do a lot of damage.
We’ll get to that more, I promise.
. . .
So–we checked off step 1. As a society, we’re officially kind and accepting of all kinds of bodies, all kinds of minds, all kinds of all kinds.
. . .
When was the last time someone got really raw and real with you about how they’re struggling–in this moment–let you see and hear and feel their struggle?
Were you able to make it safe for them? No matter how heavy that energy was? Or how panicky? Were you able to prove to them that they’re okay for being them, even with the raw mental health struggles?
And when you post to Instagram about how as a personal trainer you believe in the okay-ness of every different shape and size, and a new client shows up feeling relieved and hopeful now that they’ve found personal training with no shame–what expectations do you actually set with them? What messages do you give them? Do you encourage them to love and accept their right-now body? Do you talk about sets and reps like they’re punishments or the price to pay for the way they eat? Or assume they’re here for a “lifestyle change?”
Or how about as a gym owner or manager that publicly champions healthy body image, claims credit for saying “all shapes and sizes are welcome here,” and that body-sculpting isn’t the only acceptable goal for gym-goers–who are you hiring as trainers and staff? And what pressure are you putting on them to “look the part” by getting lean and toned and badass? And what comments are you making about them when you don’t think they’ll hear? And do all the special programs and challenges you offer seem to say, at their core, “You should look better”?
Okay, so we all do this. We say “I’m a good person.” “I don’t bully.” “I don’t make fun of people.” “I accept everyone.” But in some realm, some way, some context–I think we’ve all got some work to do to make this “okay” stuff ACTUALLY okay.
It’s like when a big corporate company proudly publicizes their strong commitment to inclusivity–all races and ethnicities, all differences in ability, all ages . . . but then you look inside the company and you can’t find BIPOC team members or leaders, you can’t find anyone with a disability, and it seems like older people who can’t keep up quite as easily with the new and the young are always the ones whose positions get coincidentally eliminated.
. . .
We’ve taken step 1 as a society.
We accept all kinds of differences–even ones that by definition include some extra care, like differing physical abilities or like mental illnesses.
Publicly. Loudly. Proudly.
It’s our policy.
We are accepting.
But are we actually showing true, complete, genuine, radical acceptance when it comes down to the nitty-gritty, day-to-day stuff–the little conversations, the little cliques, the goals, the decisions, the priorities, the relationships?
Posting an Instagram-vs-reality side-by-side where you proudly tell your followers “See? I have love-handles, too! Bodies are okay!” is a start. But what happens when all the rest of your posts seem dedicated to showing only the picture-perfect stuff?
And what happens when you promise the world that your community is a community where they don’t have to hide mental illness, where they can stop pretending–and then this sweet, tender kid, whose dark life story you couldn’t imagine, finally tries opening up, and it’s awkward (because it is) and it’s raw and it’s dark and it’s sad and it’s heavy, so heavy–and then next time . . . nobody really seems to have the time to listen?
We’ve got to go past step 1.
A lot of times, we do!
I don’t intend to be writing this long post about how everyone actually sucks at being accepting. We . . . we don’t. We’re learning. In some contexts we’re super good at it. In some contexts we’re still learning. Some of us mean better than others about it. Everyone’s at a different point in their kindness-journey, different baggage, different inherited prejudices, different perspectives . . . and we’ve made it a long way as a society.
Step 1–the official policy of acceptance–we’ve sort of completed. Step 2 is well underway. But it’s also, well, not underway, sometimes.
So for you and me to think about . . . where are you and I saying one thing but practicing another, proving another, implying another?
What subtle pressures as professionals, friends, parents, co-workers, social media users–what subtle pressures are we putting on people to be a certain concept of perfect? Maybe it’s even unconsciously, so the self-reflection needs to be deep.
When we tell someone it’s okay to be who they are . . . are we then proving to them that it’s okay, by regularly showing up in love and acceptance, by regularly adding to the world’s library of diverse beauty, raising the volume on celebrations of each perfectly unique and valuable life around us?
Or are we saying “It’s okay to struggle” or “It’s okay to look like that” and then unconsciously building higher walls and higher barriers, telling the story of a world where you should look like this, feel like this, own this, do this, fit in this crowd . . . ?
. . .
A little mental exercise: Put yourself in the place of someone who has grown up with the assigned (and eventually self-assigned) label “fat.” Lots of baggage with that one . . .
I’m gross. I’m not attractive. Nobody will want me. Nobody will listen to me. I can’t do all-those-things. I’m a failure.
And all of a sudden, the world starts . . . accepting them! Celebrating them!
The clothing aisles have pictures of people that actually look like me now! And all the fitness accounts are on my side finally, telling people to stop shaming me, that it’s okay to be me!
This is . . . absolutely life-changing. This is hope. This is love. This is self-love. Finally! This is peace and acceptance and happiness and hope and yes yes yes.
Maybe I’m beautiful! I AM beautiful. I am me, and people are okay with that now–I’M okay with that!
And then . . . . . . . . and then, it all starts to feel a little . . . hollow, a little empty, a little like a sad, mean trick.
Like, they’re celebrating me . . . but I don’t feel very welcome or included in that celebration. Nobody’s listening to my own story about it. Or like . . . they say I’m allowed to be this heavy, but all they want to talk to me about is how they can help me lose weight. And they still don’t want me too involved. Like, I can be their acceptance-poster-child, but I’m still too heavy to work with them or be a part of the in-crowd . . .
And then, sometimes, the “behind-closed-doors” conversations happen, and you catch wind of it.
“. . . really could afford to lose a few pounds . . .” “. . . doesn’t represent a healthy lifestyle . . .” “. . . can’t imagine treating my body that way . . .”
And now–now you’re officially on the outside again. Well, not officially, but in reality you are. And now you can’t even claim that you’re not accepted. Now you can’t even ask for compassion as a person who is labeled or misunderstood or judged, because . . . because, officially, they SAID you’re okay. They said they love you, they said they accept you, they said they celebrate you.
So now you’re back to square one, your old place of shame and loneliness. Only with a little more in the way of dashed hopes than when you started.
The world just isn’t safe for people like me. I’m fat and nobody likes that.
. . .
Does this ring true at all for you? Do you get it? Have you been on the receiving end? Do you think maybe you’ve been on the dishing end?
We SAY it’s okay for people to be who they are.
But are we actually MAKING IT okay?
I bet we can.
Sometimes we do.
I bet we can more.
Here’s to supporting each other through radical love and acceptance.