Defining what irks you

As I travel further through life I’ve found a number of things to be true. Grilled ham and cheese sandwiches on a rainy day fill me with comfort, kindness is a lovely trait to have and behold, and defining what ails you is surprisingly helpful for literally every problem you may have. 

This is a conversation about the latter (though I’m always taking recommendations for the perfect grilled sambo!), so get comfy and let’s talk about what I mean. 

Let’s start with something fun, like a painting… You’re standing in front of it and you ‘... don’t like it”. If we begin and end with this statement we are effectively an uncharted ship drifting in unknown waters, there’s no clear way out and there’s no action that can be taken. 

Not-liking something and leaving that statement sitting there as though it’s a sacred truth is a comforting thing to do, but it’s decidedly unhelpful and it offers no critique of the situation.  The most important question to ask yourself in this scenario is to further ask why or what you don't like exactly… Is the drawing wrong? Are the colours too bright, or is the whole image too busy? 

What about if we’re talking about a sandwich? Is there too much mayonnaise, not enough butter, or did you forget the tomatoes? Notice how if we investigate the phrase “I don’t like it”, how quickly and easily we can come to a solution, or at the very least an attempted fix?

Though art and eating sandwiches are both huge parts of my life, an even bigger part is the mental illness I’ve carried around with me since I was a child. For me, a key action that locked and loaded me into remission/ recovery from that illness was the decision to analyse and choose what thoughts I was turning into actions.

Too often with mental illnesses, we are taught that we are unbalanced, sick, and that we need help. Most often that help always seems to come from external sources such as doctors, therapists, treatment teams, and medication. Whilst all of these things (and people) are lovely, they're finite and at the end of the day, they speak more to the illness than they do the living human being that the illness is happening to.  

More importantly, regardless of how great your treatment team is (or your art teacher, or sandwich maker) they don’t have access to the most sacred part of your world, the Self, and thus they can only ever take wonderfully educated guesses as to what may be at the core of our decisions (be it a paint colour, an ingredient, or a decision to partake in some rather ‘mental’ behaviours). We are the only people who can define what is happening into any helpful clarity. And the more we practise this routine of questioning our answer, the more whole, healed and ‘biggened’ we will become. 

SO how do we begin? We ask some God dang questions!

Don’t like jam? Why not? Is it too sweet, too red, too much sugar or fruit? Does it make your guts feel weird (are you allergic?). Is it all jam? What about chutney or mint sauce? 

Don’t like make up? Why not? Not one of those girls? Don’t know how to put it on? Don’t want to look like a try-hard? Worried that everyone will stare at you?

Don’t like your reflection?  Why not? Legs too chunky? The whole leg or just the calf? Is it only when you’re naked or do you hate your calves all the time? Or is it your arms, or your collarbones? Maybe it’s your pores?

Whatever it is, get specific. The more specific you are, the greater chance of overcoming your problem you have. 

I truly doubt that anyone would hate all jam, chutneys and other condiments made from plants and fruit. BUT, if we don’t question the thought to begin with and instead hold it up as a sacred truth, jam will disappear from our pantry and fridges for years at a time. It took me 6 years to buy jam again.

I didn’t wear makeup and loudly proclaimed that ‘I was NOT one of THOSE girls” for most of my 20’s. It turns out that I am 100% one of them, but I was terrified of buying it because I was convinced that the world was staring at me, laughing at my ineptness. 

Though it may be hard to stand in front of the mirror and question the spitting voice of self hatred, you need to. WE need to. 

For me, it is my belly, my gut, my arms. So I work hard on loving them, while I create a wardrobe filled with clothes that celebrate the parts of me I feel comfortable with. 

When I’m sad, I define it. When I’m angry, I define it.  When I’m tired, I define it.  Our sense of self and indeed our very survival requires this of us.

To question the answers that my mind immediately threw at me was (and remains) an act of love, probably the greatest act of love I’ve ever witnessed. When I define what ails me, be it on a canvas, a sandwich, or in the mirror that life is reflecting back at me, I present myself with the opportunity to critique, correct and try again. 

Can you name a better gift?