The human condition. I used to think the expression was reserved for pedants and philosophers. But now I know better. It's as important to children as it is to high-thinking adults. Perhaps even more so.
Sometimes I feel as if I can almost watch the thoughts happening, the neurons firing, in my daughters' heads. Those thoughts are getting more and more complex. Now they are both old enough and mature enough to question everything in a very grown up way. They ask more than just what and why, but how and when and what will it feel like.
As we sat under the stars on our last night visiting the island of Kauai as a family, we looked up and observed an incredibly luminous Sirius shining down on us. My younger daughter, age 10, asked a very serious question. "What happens after we die? What does it feel like?"
This is the biggest and baddest of them all when it comes to challenging questions. Not just for children but for every last one of us. None of us will escape our fate. As soon as we our born, when we gain consciousness, we realize we will someday die. And what does that mean? Also: What does it tell us about how to live?
I struggled to answer. I came up with platitudes. My husband and I veered onto shaky, nearly mystical ground, trying to reassure her while at the same time dealing quietly with our own terror. It's not the first time we've been asked this. I still have no response.
That, my friends, is the human condition in a nutshell. Trying to calm and reassure and guide our loved ones while feeling our own existential crisis boiling inside. Knowing that we don't know. Facing the scary uncertainty of life and the sure certainty of death.
She tried to get us to answer, to provide something concrete. I fumbled further.
In the end, I said essentially this: We know these explanations don't satisfy you, but this is this best we can do--and this is the human condition. We live, we enjoy a remarkable moment like this one surrounded by an amazing family that we have created, sitting outside at a patio table of a lovely restaurant, feeling the cool night air, under unusually bright stars and a nearly full moon, hearing the waves crashing onto the beach below us, just out of sight in the night's shadows.
This is what we have. All we have. And we are extremely lucky to have this. The rest is the great unknown.
In fact, often, the rest is us dealing with pain, loss, frustration, anger, resentment, sorrow, suffering, and not having any way to end it other than returning to the moment we have, and resting in it, taking any joy we can from it, keeping everything sad and tough and joyous and awe inspiring in our minds at the same time.
Sometimes it feels as if we might explode from it all, but generally we don't. We go on. As long as we can. And then we stop. But we hope that by then, we will have left something worthwhile and indeed precious behind.
And for us, that thing will be you.
Do you ever feel so angry you could scream, and then suddenly realize that this feeling goes against all you believe? All you try to achieve as a person, parent, and Stoic?
As promised, my third installment of my conversation with Stoicism teacher and writer Donald Robertson focuses on anger. I am not the most patient of people, and I often wonder how I could avoid becoming upset too quickly and speaking out in anger, especially to my children. I also would like to do a better job of helping my kids manage their own anger (depicted here!).
I asked Donald: What does Stoic thinking teach us about how to cope with anger?
You want to begin by spotting yourself becoming angry. As a therapist, I’ve dealt with anger management. The first stage of therapy is that you have to spot it to stop it.
There are different levels of self-awareness. Everyone knows when someone turns red. But the hard part is noticing anger before you are truly aware of it. There are early warning signs. Earlier than normal, try to notice it. It becomes harder to control passions the longer they go on.
The same thing is true if you are a runner—when you’re going fast, and someone says stop, it’s hard to stop because things have escalated. But stopping when you’re walking, it isn’t as tough. That’s anger. It’s less and less voluntary the longer it continues. Catch it early, and you have more voluntary control.
It’s possible that you are getting annoyed, and you are not aware you are angry. One answer to that is that another person could observe you. Stoic mentors, in ancient times, would follow you and notice your responses, like Rusticus did with Marcus Aurelius. It can be more obvious to others.
Learn to notice internal signs like tense shoulders. Like the specific thoughts you have, such as blaming thoughts. Or maybe it’s the tone of voice I’m using, or I’m frowning – that’s mindfulness training, as well as self-monitoring and self-observation.
Anger is temporary madness. Evidence shows that it creates cognitive distortion. Anger narrows our scope of attention and amplifies our response. We are prone to generalization and can’t problem solve. We have ‘gone crazy and can’t think clearly.’ Awareness of other stimuli will dilute that response—so the more I notice about my body, the more I will be forced to expand scope. That way I can give my mind a bunch of things to do.
As a side note: Seneca wrote a book about anger. He said anger is unnatural and unnecessary. It’s ugly and bad. He says, “Look at people’s faces when they are angry, don’t they look twisted and horrible?”
Are there other specific Stoic-based approaches to calming anger, once we become aware of it happening?
They did cognitive distancing. The ancient Stoics talk a lot about when a thought pops through your mind, you should see it as an arbitrary value judgment. All the thoughts we have are projections. All judgments are fundamentally indifferent. Nothing external is that bad. The only thing we should care that strongly about is our own character. That value doesn’t exist in external world. It’s not things that upset us, it’s our judgments about things. I’m externalizing it – you are a jerk, this is awful, you are awful. This is catastrophizing. We need to learn to roll that back.
Epictetus said if you have an angry thought, you can tell it, “you’re just an impression. You’re not the thing you claim to represent.” He is talking to the thought, as if another person, as if it is an outside object. This is creating cognitive distance. “You again, you are my angry judgment that comes up.”
It’s like catastrophe-tinted glasses – there’s a difference between looking through the glasses and taking the glasses off and look at the glasses.
We can try to take a step back and look at our beliefs, judgments, and impressions. Marcus believed in a catharsis—a separation—of our thoughts from external reality. Learning to notice that we are putting those glasses on and looking through them. It’s not a feature of reality. It’s a perspective, a projection. That weakens our emotional and behavioral response.
Having done that, Epictetus says, tell the thought to wait a while, and give us time to rest and respond. You could say to yourself: “Wait until I’ve calmed down and come back to this.” Then you can later be more rational, and ask yourself, what would Socrates do, what would Zeno do? What would the people I admire do?
Also, you could do a cost-benefit analysis of your angry response. Say you do what your anger was telling you to do. What would be the consequences? What would be another way of responding? When we have calmed down and removed ourselves from situation – time out strategies. The Platonists believed in that.
Counting to ten is not long enough. Augustus had a Stoic tutor, who told him to recite the Greek alphabet when angry. That’s longer than counting to ten!
Any other Stoic wisdom on anger, especially when working with kids?
The Stoics believed we are all like children in a way. They didn’t claim to be “wise”—no one was a true “sage.” They thought that we are all in the same boat, and none of us are perfect.
Seneca said of his philosophy, “Imagine this is a therapy, but I’m not a doctor. I’m the guy in the hospital bed beside you who has been undergoing treatment longer. I’ve made some progress.” It’s like peer support.
Getting back to anger: Marcus Aurelius had some strategies for anger management. One of them is to remind yourself that you are just as bad as the person making you angry. Humility could that be enough to stop the feeling. We are all foolish, we all have passions, and you have to figure this out for yourself.
Parents who get angry are child-like. Realizing that is humbling and helps to snap us out of it. “There’s a child within me, who is having a tantrum,” we might say to ourselves.
With kids, when they get angry, we should teach them not to ashamed of anger. But also to tolerate anger. What matters is what they do next, after the angry feeling happens.
Thanks for reading The Stoic Mom. If you have any suggestions or ideas for future 2018 posts or any questions, please write in the comments!
This is part two of my conversation with author, trainer, and teacher Donald Robertson. Read on for his thoughts on Stoicism and parenting, and on how Stoic philosophy can help us question our own values.
Add to the discussion in the comments… and share your questions and suggestions for future posts and interviews.
Q: How can Stoic philosophy help me become a better parent? And how should I begin teaching Stoic values to my kids?
A: The best way to teach is through role modeling. Stoic philosophers did lecture and wrote books, but they also thought that the best thing to do is to set a good example. To start by improving our own character.
Accepting that our children and our students are not under our direct control is critical. Even Socrates had bad students who went off the rails. Well, he said, I don’t control their minds. All I can do is provide a role model. Sometimes it’s in the hands of fate.
We need to work on accepting these limits and not getting frustrated with them.
The ancient Stoics were a lot tougher on kids than we are today. They believed that character is instilled through exercise, sport, and work.
Today, many parents express their love through consumerism, buying toys, taking kids out to places for entertainment. But in Stoicism, it’s more important what we give them to DO, rather than possessions. The way we invest our time is a more appropriate gift – and to have them do things that require effort. We develop virtue through hard work.
Q: Parents today get competitive about their children’s success in academics, sports, careers, everything. How can we re-think that with Stoicism?
I live in quiet Nova Scotia. That’s not as obvious here. The competitiveness of parents varies a lot.
As Stoics, our goal isn’t to give our kids skills that would make them externally successful. Stoicism challenges some of our culture’s values that way. Stoics believed that what they were proposing should upset people. It’s an “epistrophe” in Greek–like a U-turn. Part of that is questioning consumerism and narcissism.
Stoics would say – what is Success in LIFE? Will a degree and a good job make our children good people? Is our priority to make our children materially successful, or more rounded people?
Sometime pursuit of wealth is obstacle. Epictetus says you can’t serve two masters. If you pursue a successful career, you can earn wealth. Some career paths suck you into a certain type of character and values, which is not necessarily good. External success is not same as virtue.
Instead, we should ask: Do our children have wisdom? Integrity? Are they true to themselves? Are they living in a way consistent with rational values?
Q: Interesting. Could we apply these same questions to ourselves, as people and as parents?
A: Yes. In Stoic week, we do an exercise known as “values clarification.” It’s Socratic. Rather than saying “these are the values,” this approach asks you a bunch of questions. It asks you to figure out what you care about and reflect on those values. The Socratic method can expose contradictions between our beliefs and actions.
Another approach is the double standard strategy. You think about what you want for yourself. Then you make a list of what you admire most in other people. Then you ask: What if I did what I admire in others? What would it be like to apply that in practice?
We have a Stoic model for this: Marcus Aurelius. In Book 1 of his Meditations, all he does is describe others’ virtues. It’s a huge list.
As parents, we could ask: What do you spend most of your time doing with your kids? What are things you most admire about other parents? What if you could do what they do?
Q: Let’s go back to the source material for a moment. Much of the language and emphasis in ancient Stoicism is masculine. Discussions focus on “the wise man” and on “manly” attributes. How did the Stoics of Greece and Rome view women?
A: Stoicism’s founder, Zeno, wrote a book called The Republic that we only have fragments of now. It was a critique of Plato’s Republic. He said that everything would be equal in the Republic. That implies no slavery, and that men and women would be equal.
Ancient Cynics also seemed to have believed there was an equality between men and women. The idea was shocking then. And maybe only Cynics would think this—they were known for saying shocking and anarchic things.
We believe that Cleanthes wrote on the thesis that virtue is the same in men and women, but we know nothing about what he said.
Then 400 years later, Musonius Rufus’ lectures argue that virtues are the same in men and women, and he argues that girls should be taught philosophy as well as boys. Women should be able to practice philosophy.
Next time: ANGER rears its ugly head. And it is indeed ugly, as Donald Robertson tells us in part three of our interview. Leave any questions or thoughts in the comments!
The Stoic Mom had the chance to speak with Donald Robertson, author, trainer, and psycho therapist, and creator of courses on Stoicism including How to Think Like a Roman Emperor, Crash Course in Stoicism, Stoic Mindfulness and Resilience Training. Here’s the first part of that enlightening conversation on Stoic thinking, and how it can help us handle our fears and focus on what really matters. (Watch for part two of this conversation soon!)
Q: Philosophy helps us think about meaning and purpose. What does Stoic philosophy say about the purpose of human life? What should we be focused on?
A: The Stoic goal of life is “living in agreement with nature.” It’s attributed to Zeno, Stoicism’s founder, and Marcus Aurelius is still talking about that 500 years later. It’s a constant. The Greek words used have other translations, like living in accord with virtue or living wisely.
What does that mean in practice? They believed that the essence of human nature was reasoning and thinking. We use language. That distinguishes us from animals. And since we can think and use language, we have a duty to use it properly.
In other words: Nature’s handed this gift to you, and it is the greatest gift of nature. We should use it to its fill.
We can think—but most of us think badly and irrationally. Nature has left us half finished, and we should complete the circle. We have the tools, we should pick up tools and use them. To reason well is to attain wisdom.
Q: What does this “agreement with nature” actually look like? I’m often stressed and worried about my kids, my family, my community, my work, and larger events in the world. Can people live in better harmony with themselves and others by pursuing Stoicism? And can Stoic thinking help its followers reach a state of tranquility?
A: We can live in harmony with our own nature by consistently reasoning well. That’s being authentic and true to ourselves. We also need to try to live in harmony with external events. At the level of society, we live with our fellow citizens—and we can try to live in harmony with rest of humanity. One of the philosophers’ goals was to reconcile people who are arguing, for instance. Socrates was really good at introducing people to new friends, forming healthy relationships among friends.
In terms of the question of tranquility, it’s not so much how you feel that matters—it is the state of health that your mind is in. A wise person who is flourishing, whose mind is excellent, will probably be tranquil, but it’s kind of a side effect.
The problem with making tranquility your goal is that you could just take tranquilizers. You could avoid stressful situations. Psychologists would call that avoidance and withdrawal.
Ancient Stoics would disagree with avoiding things. Zeno was engaged with advising politicians and believed you should engage with public life. Stoics also said you should marry and have kids, even if it can be stressful—it’s part of nature.
In fact, in modern psychology in past 15 years or so, we now think that many traditional self-help techniques are subtle forms of avoidance. People instinctively do things to help themselves that involve avoiding upsetting feelings, like visualization or breathing exercises. But research shows that being able to ride out and tolerate those feelings is more healthy. You can learn to accept the feelings.
Q: Do Stoic thinkers expect us to be perfectly calm in all situations? Do they talk about how feelings, for example of anxiety and worry, affect people?
A: The ancient Stoics recognized that all people have involuntary feelings. A wise Stoic might shake, turn pale, and sweat in a scary situation. It is what happens next that counts.
One Stoic writer tells the story of a philosopher on a ship during an awful storm. It’s scary. When he gets ashore, others say to him, why were you shaking and turning white? He says, those were involuntary reactions. But what matters is that I recovered my composure afterwards. I’m not a brain in a vat.
In fact, it’s impossible to feel courage without feeling anxiety. You can’t have that virtue unless you experience these involuntary first movements. Being in a frightening situation is an opportunity to exercise bravery.
Q: Do the Stoic thinkers offer specific techniques for combatting our negative emotions? How can we build our own reason and wisdom?
A: Yes. They practiced the “premeditation of adversity.” In modern psychotherapy, we would call it imaginal exposure. You try to habituate yourself to frightening things. If you can do this successfully, your anxiety is more or less extinguished.
Ancient Stoics practiced imagining exile, poverty, betrayal, and their own death. That’s the most robust advice they give, but it’s difficult to do on your own, without a psychotherapist or mentor.
They don’t say how long to spend on it. If you don’t wait long enough for habituation to happen, you could actually sensitize yourself. You can look at modern psychology to understand this. It works better if you do this for longer period, say at least 15 minutes at a time. It feels boring. But that feeling of boredom is habituation happening. It requires patience.
A second technique is the “view from above.” You try to imagine situations in the broader context of space and time.
So if you meet a person who upsets you, you might think of that person as a child, or when they get older, to see it as just one slice of their whole life. This moderates your emotional response. And maybe you’ll start to understand that other person—as determined by the past, for example.
You could also imagine you are floating up in the sky seeing events below. It is not blotting out and avoiding them, but plugging them into a broader context. To be rational, in ideal world, we’d see everything in context. In the ancient world, people believed that Zeus could do this.
It is impossible for humans; we just see slices. and our reaction is amplified. But we can use our imaginations.
More of my interview with Donald Robertson—on parenting, Stoic women, and handling anger—coming soon.
Do you have any burning questions about Stoicism? Post them here as comments!
“Let the goddess within you be in charge of a person who is mature, womanly, strong, brave, a leader, a ruler.… In brief, you must hold yourself upright, not be held upright.”
- Adaptation of Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book III, Part 5
Here is an uplifting thought: that we, as people, women and men, parents, and citizens can derive strength, energy, and--above all--reason from within ourselves.
Where exactly does this goodness spring from? From part of us that Roman emperor and Stoic thinker Marcus Aurelius calls “the god within," and sometimes refers to as an inner genius or guardian spirit.
I’ve been studying Marcus’ Meditations, and this element stands out over numerous pages. Although it’s unclear whether Marcus believed in a single, powerful deity, or in pantheistic gods, or thought it was impossible to know the nature of the spiritual realm, it does seem that he held fast to the notion of a divine spark within us all.
This piece of ourselves is the source of our reason and intelligence as humans. And it is that which we must preserve by following philosophy and living a good life.
It's not easy. Modern Americans are struggling with the many pressures inherent in a highly individualistic and judgmental culture, the swirling mess of work, home, housework, family, politics, finances, and an increasingly self-absorbed and self-indulgent society that seems more likely to alienate and embitter people than to care for them.
From my vantage point in Silicon Valley, I often see precious little community and pitching in for the polis; it’s a very “I got mine” vibe. I am guilty of being overworked and overcommitted, too, and lacking time and energy to take on more. I worry about my kids seeing so much self-centered behavior. The bright spot for them is that their school environments are one potential source for coming together, and I've found a handful of good friends in the parent community here (supportive for me and potential role models for children).
The question is: Can you be strong and self-sufficient without being cut off from other people? Can you cultivate that wisdom and logic within, share it, and use it to participate for the good in your community and world?
And can we teach this to our children?
I do not have a certain answer now, and I am seeking one actively. There are some rays of hope. I know that both my daughters want to pursue “take action” projects in our area with the girls in their Girl Scout troops. I’m waiting expectantly to find out what that means. Can they channel their energy into something useful and create change?
As for me, I’m engaging in helping my friends and fellow humans with their lives and issues, my colleagues with collaborations on innovative, creative work, and my world with supporting causes I care about. My company offers matching grants and I have recently been busy directing donations to local, national, and international efforts I want to advance.
But much more needs to be done. Spreading ideas inspired by this philosophy and the primacy of truth, justice, and service could help. My younger daughter serves as an example. She has started the school year strong, working to form a "stop stereotypes" club with a handful of other students. These fourth graders don't like kids getting pegged by gender, and they want to see change within classrooms and on the playground, as well as in the wider world. (I was disappointed, though, when her school principal declined to meet with the group, despite their hope to be taken seriously on the highest level available to them.)
Her enthusiasm is inspiring. We could all learn to do more, and to grow in wisdom and leadership, propelled by our inner spark.
Seething inside me is a dark image. A picture of myself that I'd like to change. Part of my journey into Stoicism is about how to gain a more balanced interior world. That begins with taking a step back to acknowledging how I got here.
For me, much of it boils own to the simple idea that I grew up with, reinforced by countless teachers, people all around me, and our culture's preoccupation with "perfect girls." The basic concept: "You should act smart because you are smart.” And more than that: "Be perfect."
This approach implies that being/acting intelligent and competent defines your self-worth. Supporting this line of thinking, the next logical step is to believe that the highest grades, scholastic achievement, degrees, and prestigious careers are marks of your worthiness as a human being. Praise is what matters, and getting something wrong is shameful.
For me, this kind of mentality led to a trap of constant self-doubt about and negativity around my own sense of value, wholeness, and, ultimately, happiness. For years, I’d often tell myself how “stupid” or “idiotic” I was for making what I perceived to be a "dumb" mistake. I’d even say “I am worthless" or "I hate myself.”
I internalized the idea that I had to be perfect, that I couldn’t make a simple error without demonstrating that, in reality, I wasn’t smart or valuable, but in fact, I was incompetent and a failure.
Why did I persist in believing this in the face of so much evidence that I was indeed, in most people's eyes, a capable, intelligent, and strong individual?
I have a theory. Over the years, I used this thinking as a protective shield in some twisted way. In 12-step programs, people look at how their addiction “served” served them in a sense. Perhaps that has been true here too. If I could preventatively say, “What an idiot I am!” then I knew deep down I would feel it less when someone else said it (or when I thought someone might say it under their breath). I’d be somehow immune when other people pointed out my flaws or shortcomings. My horrible self-talk formed a series of pre-emptive strikes.
I’d also force myself to work harder that way: “If I’m not prepared for this test, the teacher will think I’m a dunderhead, I’ll get a bad grade, and I’ll never be successful.” “If I don’t ace this interview, I must be truly incompetent, and I won't really deserve a good job. What a failure I am.” And so on.
Weird and absurd, right? Yet that’s how messed up I’ve been on the inside. That’s the kind of treatment of my own psyche that I used to propel myself forward through very competitive schools and tough work environments.
It has also taken a tremendous toll.
I have had a Dorian Gray-like picture of myself hidden away inside me, eating away at everything good.
You likely recall the Oscar Wilde story: a handsome young man hides away a painting of himself, one that ages and decays and sours and becomes monstrous as he commits bad acts. Meanwhile, his real body remains beautiful (on the outside).
My self-portrait carries the marks of emotional wounds, often self-inflicted, but dangerous nonetheless.
The acid effect of internal damage finally became too great when I found myself trying to drive my own children using the same mentality. Of course, I want them to know I have high expectations because they can live up to them and be their best selves. But I don’t want to plant a Dorian within their young, vulnerable hearts.
That is why I began, a couple years back, to work on my negativity and lack of self-compassion. I took classes on meditation and on mindfulness, I studied compassion and Buddhism, I met with counselors, I did self-assessments of who I am and how I got here, and where to go next to get over this mentality and be healthier.
I learned to care about my own suffering more. The very first step was to actually notice it, to be aware of how I talked to myself. I began slowly to try to focus on satisfying moments rather than fears.
This is a work in progress that still needs a lot of effort. But at least now I can break down why I feel this way in a more granular understanding.
Among all these efforts, my studies of Stoicism and of recovery from addictive behavior have had the most lasting and helpful effect. I am trying now to give my darker thoughts up to the universe and to the force for good instilled in humanity, that “divine spark” that Marcus Aurelius and others refer to.
I have to remember to protect my own spark. Even from myself.
A quote to meditate on:
“The duration of a person’s life is as a point; the substance of it ever flowing, the sense obscure; and the whole composition of the body tending to unravel. Her soul is a restless vortex, fortune uncertain, and fame doubtful; in a word, as a rushing stream so are all things belonging to the body; as a dream, or as smoke, so are all that belong to the soul. Life is a warfare, and a sojourn in a foreign land. Fame after life is nothing more than oblivion.
What is it then that will guide us? One thing alone: philosophy. And philosophy consists in this, for a woman to preserve that inner genius or divine spark which is within her, from violence and injuries, and above all pains or pleasures; never to do anything either without purpose, or falsely, or hypocritically: wholly to depend from herself and her own proper actions: all things that happen to her to embrace contentedly, as coming from the Eternal from whom she also came...”
A woman-centric version of Marcus Aurelius, from the Meditations, Book II, Section 15
With so much violence and death in the news recently—both human-made and nature-made—it’s hard to comprehend so much suffering.
I sometimes wonder if there is a threshold to witnessing so many things that are out of control—and out of OUR control, as the Stoic thinkers have shown us. Perhaps there is a point beyond which we just break down and turn away. (If that is true, the ancients must have experienced it, given the scale of war and disease at that time.)
After I heard about the mass shooting in Las Vegas that claimed 59 lives, my sense of despair and disconnection went into overdrive. The unthinkable cruelty hurt me on a personal level. I went through the motions of my day, trying not to discuss the horror with my kids. I didn’t want them to see my alienation and sadness. And I did not know how to explain what had happened.
We are seeing these kinds of staggering acts monthly, weekly, and daily if you look at violence on the local level around the country. It makes me ask: What values do we share in common as Americans—as human beings? How can we live “in accordance with nature” in our modern world? So many people seem to have forgotten what it means to tap into the logic of our brains and the spark of virtue, kindness, and joy within.
Human life is much more than an instinct to survive. Nor is it just material comfort or a set of serial goals, like “graduate from school," “get a job,” "get married," and “buy a house." There’s a deeper spiritual element. To feel connected, valuable, and good, the Stoics tell us, we must try to live a virtuous life, in harmony with the best elements of our natures.
Maybe by attempting to live a good life—a caring and thoughtful existence supporting those around us—we can somehow serve as a bulwark against acts of violence and terror. At the very least, we can continue to promote and protect the core virtues that make our lives meaningful while we are on this planet. Stoicism means living far from despair even in the worst circumstances, and I try to keep that thought in the forefront of my mind.
My daughters clearly have inborn body types. My older daughter was always around the 99th percentile in growth for her age. At 11, already she has grown to my height, with my wide shoulders and (relatively) powerful legs.
She is strong and healthy, and I am grateful. But I already know that she will not have the slim body type do some of her relatives. And in our culture, that will likely bother her on some level, since the slender type is so prized.
My younger daughter is a different body type altogether, one I don’t recognize quite so well. She was usually around the 55th percentile for growth for her age. She is average height and weight, also a very active kid whose friends ask how she can eat so much and still stay skinny. She’s only 9 and who knows how her body will change, but I don’t think it will mimic mine so closely.
Perhaps my children will be more able to accept their bodies, especially in this era of women’s fitness. I can dream, can’t I?
I have long had struggles with my body, especially after having two kids. When carrying my second daughter, I was put on bedrest. I lost muscle tone and put on flabby weight (more than I’d hoped), and I had to take medication that made me feel awful. Recovery was a long process, and with a two-year-old and infant it seemed to take forever.
Then when I returned to work part-time I found I was very sedentary, very busy, stressed, and had almost no time for exercise. I was surrounded (I almost said assaulted!) by free food at my office, which did not help my waistline. And I developed some seriously painful physical issues from the repetitive stress of carrying heavy babies around and (when I had a few moments to myself) hovering over a laptop and doing crafts to unwind.
It was a perfect storm for motherly physical un-fitness.
After some months (years, I guess?) of complaining about it, I finally decided to make a change and got proactive. I went to a good physical therapist, luckily covered by my medical insurance. Joyce's energetic persona made me feel old and bulky, but she helped immensely.
Putting aside a bit of budget for health matters, I found a female physical trainer, Mary, who did her best to whip me into shape over a few months. And a mom friend who liked running got me into weekend runs while the dads minded the kids.
I lost some weight and I got stronger physically. I built muscle tone and improved my posture, which helped my pain. I did what I could, given time and budget constraints.
Today, the journey continues with stops at the gym, speed walks, fitness biking, uphill hikes, dance “jam” classes, and all-encompassing eating plans. It feels like a constant battle and I expect it will get worse as I age.
Over the years, I have had a lot of trouble accepting my basic body type. It's not slender, not an hourglass, not an image of Hollywood perfection. It’s a type that’s hard to fit nicely into off-the-rack clothes, for example. But it's not all bad: I know I can look darn good in the right outfit, and I get compliments (especially from biased people like my husband).
The point is: As much as I work out and lose weight or gain it, this will always be my body.
Stoic thinking is helpful here, if I can just remember to bring it to mind. Stoics in ancient times were known for their willingness to pass up fine food and drink, and even nice, warm clothing. They could deprive themselves of an awful lot, and they did not indulge when given the opportunity.
That’s a mindset I am trying to develop—especially when it comes to the abundant free food in my office (a "first world problem," I know!).
And the ancient Stoics were, above all, accepting of things outside their control. Surely body type and body chemistry/metabolism are things we are born with, as my daughter’s form shows.
Ancient Stoics were remarkably accepting of the body’s aging and its pain. For Stoic thinkers, possessing good health was not a given and was one of the “indifferent things” that did not determine a person’s worth, virtue, or joy in life. That's because we can’t help getting sick or growing old, and eventually we all lose our precious bodies and pass away.
But long before that (I hope), we should be clear: we must accept our bodies and ourselves. We should try to be the best person we can be, to be the fittest for our own well-being, but the rest is outside our control.
Perhaps I could come up with some new Stoic mantras for women struggling with this. I’ll think about that in the coming days, as I try to find ways to work exercise and healthy eating and stress reduction into my hectic life. Any comments on coping with this often-tough path would be more than welcome!
About The Stoic Mom
I'm Meredith Kunz, a writer, editor, and mom to two daughters in Northern California on a journey to discover how Stoic philosophy and mindful approaches can change a parent's - or any person's - life.