3 stone

I was just reading an article about the link between obesity and the brain, and a particular study on mice. It showed that eating a high fat diet increased cells in the hypothalmus, the part of the brain responsible for metabolism. They then blasted those cells back off again in half the group and continued to feed them all the same high fat diet. The group with the new cells blasted off gained weight at a considerably slower rate than those who kept their new cell growth, plus they used more energy and were more active despite being fed exactly the same diet.

Whilst this is an early days study and hasn't been replicated in humans, it does go to add weight (pardon the pun) to the theory that being fat makes you, well, fat.

And as I was reading the article it struck me that I hadn't actually written a post about my own weight loss, or the 20 years of battling with my weight that preceded that.

So I thought I would.

What I am about to write is my own personal experience, and I am in no way trying to speak for anybody else. We all experience the world and ourselves in totally different ways, and this is how I experience me.

before

As well as making me fat, being fat made me miserable.

There it is. There is no dressing it up or getting around the issue.

Although you could argue that being miserable made me fat...that is also a possibility and it's hard to really tell which came first. I expect I started to feel better about myself enough to realise I didn't need to stay that way. Really I expect it's a vicious circle with one feeding (pardon the pun) the other until eventually something breaks the pattern.


Well after years off yo-yoing and trying every diet under the sun, I eventually succeeded and I cannot begin to put into words how much better I feel, both physically and emotionally, both about and within myself since I have lost weight.

before

Silly things like not needing to spend hours in front of the mirror every day trying to find something to wear that was acceptable (in my eyes). Or dreading standing up in front of people to present for fear they'd just be thinking I was fat instead of listening to what I had to say. Or continually looking at my reflection in shop
windows as I walk past to check what I'm looking like. Or being the only one sweating during a pilates class. Constantly arguing with myself over food choices, about going to the gym and constantly beating myself up when I made the 'wrong' choice.

Silly little things in the real world that made daily life in my world really quite painful.

I can hardly believe when I look back on those days that I actually managed to get through each day with all of those hang ups and worries going on, all the time. No wonder I was stressed and fed up and tired and emotional. It was a special day when I first realised that I couldn't remember the last time I'd looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. That I couldn't remember the last time I'd worried about how I looked when I got up to present. That I no longer fretted and faffed over what to wear every morning (extra time in bed, great!). It is very liberating.

I'm not perfect. I still have my moments, but they are only moments, they are no longer the constant soundtrack to my every day. I've killed my inner conflict over food with new found NLP processes, I'm making better choices and giving myself a break when I fancy a break. And I'm learning to love myself rather than stuff myself with food.

A very lovely lady from my NLP course said to me "you strike me as a really big person, who's been making herself quite small". She meant it metaphorically, but it made me think.  Would a 'big person who makes herself small', in some way try to compensate for this inner smallness by unconsciously making herself appear bigger on the outside? Interesting.

after

Anyway, I was a physically big person who has successfully made herself smaller and is now able to be much bigger as a person as a result. I am so proud of what I've achieved, and maintained subsequently and so happy that I now feel (and look!) much more like me.

Those 3 stone (and 3 dress sizes, actually 4 from my biggest moments) are a massive weight not just off my body, but more importantly a massive weight off my mind.

........

Now, as it happens, I actually drafted this post quite a while ago and haven't until now plucked up the courage to publish it. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because it's intensely personal. Maybe it's because it's a bit sort of self trumpet blowing. Maybe it's because actually, I don't totally believe it's true. Mostly it is, but not all of it, at least not all of the time. Yes, I have lost a lot of weight. Yes I look a lot better. Yes, I feel a lot better. But I don't think I have really resolved my relationship with food, and recently I seem to be rebelling somewhat. I've started finding it almost impossible to stick to a routine with food, I've started letting bad habits creep back in and the pounds have started piling back on. I do know that when other areas of my life go a bit squiffy, so does my diet and eating, so going through a load of interviews and soul searching questions about career paths, resigning from my current job etc etc would count in that arena I guess! We're not talking anything too major here, but today, for example (and ok, after a particularly cake heavy hen weekend!) I'm 9lbs above the lightest I got to before. And while people are still telling me how skinny I look and blah blah blah, I can tell the difference, and I simply can't let it go any further northwards. It strikes me that unless I want to spend my entire life on some ridiculous scale watching, weight yo-yoing, in and out of dieting scenario I need to be tackling the emotional side of eating head on now.  I know all about nutrition, I know all about portion control, I know about carbs and sugar being particularly attractive to my fat stores...but knowing doesn't actually always help. Something clicked in my brain when I started doing the Dukan diet back in Oct 2010 that switched off all the other emotional signals and I was able to follow it to the letter for 8 months, even over Christmas. Whatever that something was, it's clicked back off again and I seem to have misplaced the bastard switch! It's not even just eating, I realised the other day that my inability to stop biting my nails here and there, even at 35, is just another oral fixation. I have no off switch when it comes to drinking either.

So, what to do, other than continue to swing wildly from protein eating tea-totaller one minute to cake scoffing alcoholic the next? Well, I've decided, since counselling never really touched the sides with this one, and since these are all habits deeply routed in the unconscious that my conscious mind seems completely pathetic at controlling, I will bypass the conscious bit and try hypnosis.

I've wanted to try hypnotherapy for ages, for various reasons and afflictions (!) and have decided that eating/weight management is going to be the one to try it on. I have 2 sessions booked in from next week and a load of self hypnosis mp3s to listen to so fingers crossed.

I shall report back shortly!

today...

Today I felt a bit sorry for myself.

The glorious long weekend was over.  The once jolly bunting was now hanging all limp and soggy. My beautiful sweet smelling peonies were browning and stinky. My head hurt, my tummy hurt, my back hurt. I had no energy whatsoever. The weird poorliness I'd noticed creeping in over the weekend was making a final bid to take over.

I hauled myself up and out and into London, only to realise it had been a mistake and carted myself back off home again.

Where I sat in the cold and dark and stared at the wall wondering what to do next.

My options were: feel sorry for myself. eat things. go back to bed.

I tried all of those and got bored of each in turn.

I stared at the wall a bit more, just in case the answer was written there and I just hadn't noticed it before.

Then I had an idea.

I used to read. A lot. I have a Kindle onto which I have downloaded a multitude of books, from frivolous fancy to downright dry. But over the last few months, since I've become more and more interested in all this happiness chat and have been buying more and more books on the subject, I've also, paradoxically, been reading less. I can't seem to make myself read all these books I've been buying. They just sit on the shelf staring at me, reproaching me for bothering to buy them in the first place. Do I think their wisdom will transfer by some kind of osmosis just by being in the same room as me?  Or am I just rebelling against things I think I should do rather than what I really want to do? I read so many blogs and articles and reports online that actually, what I really want to read in book form is pappy nonsense. The kind of pappy nonsense you fill your suitcase with for a beach holiday. The kind of pappy nonsense that concerns itself with cupcakes and cocktails, where cliches abound. But I've stopped reading that too recently. I think I feel guilty reading such vacuous rubbish when I have a shelf full of terribly interesting sciencey type stuff to read instead.

There's a certain irony in there, that a little treat I used to enjoy, that acted almost like my sanctuary, has been dropped in the muddle of this happiness journey of mine. Which just goes to prove the old adage that you cannot search for happiness, you just have to realise where you had it to begin with.

Well reading nonsense was certainly a happiness of mine and I'd let it slip. But now I'd realised it, it was time to put it right.

So today, I gave myself a break. I dug out and dusted down my kindle and downloaded a suitably dreadful sounding book called "Through with men". And then I sat there and read the whole thing in one day. It was rubbish. And I loved it.

And feeling buoyed by this I took myself off to the Chinese Doctor who told me my Qi was too low because my meridians are all bunged up and proceeded to stick all manner of needles and weird cups all over me and then left me to fall asleep under a nice hot lamp listening to whale music. He then prescribed me some funny herby things and gave me some herbal plaster things to slap on my achey bits.

And now I feel much better.

Better because I gave myself a break.
Better because I allowed myself what I wanted and needed rather than what I felt I ought to be doing.
Better because I've picked back up an old pastime I used to enjoy but had let slip.
Better because I forced myself to stop moping about and to focus on solutions instead.
and better because this weird herbal plaster thing is actually working.

So today turned out ok after all.

And tomorrow is another day.

Hip Hip, Hooray

I feel moved to try and capture some of the spirit of this fantastic Diamond Jubilee weekend with a post, but fear I shall fail miserably. It has been too lovely by far to put into words, although I shall still try.

There are so many reasons why I, for one, have had such a jolly lovely time, and as soon as I try to separate them from each other they all lose something...I think this weekend the whole really has been far greater than the sum of all its parts.

It has felt almost like Christmas, where the whole nation, and beyond, has been focused on the same thing, on the same joyful celebration. The atmosphere has been truly amazing, it has really taken my breath away and has been absolutely lovely to see and to be a part of.

There's been flag waving and bunting, pork pies and fireworks, good old British spirit in the face of driving rain, good cheer & merriment all round. We've always said us British know how to throw a good party and I think we've certainly proved it this weekend.

But I think what I have been most moved by is the outpouring of affection for the Queen herself. Including by me.

I don't really think I'd stopped to think about what the Jubilee was really all about in the run up to the weekend, or to contemplate what it involved. It wasn't until a few days beforehand that I really understood what the running order of the weekend was and what was going on. So I was totally taken aback by the sheer scale of the thing. By how many people came out in force both in London and further afield to celebrate. By how people really came together.

It really did feel like something from another age, with crowds of people lining the streets spontaneously breaking into chants of God Save the Queen. I have never seen anything like it and likely never will again.

I have also been absolutely mesmerised by the Queen herself. I have been glued to the television watching every moment, every wave, every smile. I have loved all the footage of her through the years and listening to all the stories of her times gone by. Even her standing up for so long at a time over the weekend was remarkable enough! There are so many things about her, her role, her family and her background I didn't know before and never really felt inclined to find out. Now I could sit and watch her all day, and have done!



We didn't travel into London, we didn't go and line the streets ourselves, we didn't arrange our own street party (does a small house party count?) or even really attend one (although we went and looked at several!), we didn't watch either of the two beacon lightings near us. But we joined in in our own little way and it felt very, very special indeed to be a part of something so huge and so wonderful.




It is lovely to see such spirit across the UK given the doom and gloom we've been surrounded by in recent times. Whether it be double dip recessions, financial collapse, political disillusionment, war, terrorism, fighting, rioting and so on. It feels as if the combination of last year's Royal Wedding, the Jubilee and next the Olympics are bringing a new dawn of hope, renewing our faith, lifting the mood and reminding us of all the good stuff again.




For me, this weekend has been very, very special. And I'm aware that I've now said that twice but I can't say it enough. It has been truly humbling and inspiring in many ways and it has made me very proud to be British, amongst many other things. It has been much too big a deal for me to even get anywhere near to capturing here.




Over the last 4 days we've had compassion, community, good cheer, faith, dedication, affection, optimism,celebration, pride, being a part of something, giving back, gratitude, resilience, emotion, direction and meaning.

In bucket loads.



And that sounds like a pretty good recipe for happiness to me.

Long may it continue, and long live the Queen.

Hip Hip, Hooray! Hip Hip, Hooray! Hip Hip, Hooray!

Average

Why is the world so obsessed with averages? Averages are so, well, average. Yet they are all around us.  People seem to live their lives by them like some kind of mystical guide to all things...what's the average height, weight, IQ, age, chance of x or y. They've even got their own law!

The irony being that we're all holding ourselves up to these averages, which by their very nature don't actually exist as real examples.

If you take a load of pretty coloured paints, and mix them all up in a big bucket, you end up with some kind of nondescript munge coloured plop. A munge coloured plop that doesn't actually exist as a standalone paint colour. That's what averages are for me.

Except the nice pretty paints don't go around berating themselves because they're different to the munge coloured plop. They continue to celebrate their uniqueness. Well, I expect they would if they weren't inanimate paints. But you get the point.

It starts even before we're born. Our due date is based on the average pregnancy and on our mum's average cycle. As soon as we're born we're compared to the average weight and size and then our mums are harassed by health visitors if we happen to fall outside of the magic averages or if we end up on the wrong place on the magic averages chart. She must be feeding us too much/too little/wrong. Heaven forbid we're just following our own little growth plan and not the one on their stupid chart.

At school, all the hundreds of individual children who pass through and who sit tests and exams are boiled down into one big melting pot to give us an average grade, an average pass mark. Fall under the curve and you're a bit of a thicko, above it and you're a geek. Average is the place to be safe.

and boring.

Science is obsessed with averages too.  There are even at least three different sorts of average to play with. Everything has to be plotted on a graph so a nice neat curvy line can be drawn roughly through as many dots as possible.  Nevermind about all the dots the line doesn't pass through. They must be anomalies, little weirdinesses we don't need to worry about.

Don't we!?

Surely it's these weirdinesses that are the interesting bit?

Personally, I am not concerned with averages. Or being average. I don't understand the point. If we're going to strive to something or compare ourselves against something, why not choose excellence rather than average?

At work I have been given two different bits of advice by different people. The first was to try to care less about stuff. The second was not to live every day like it was a performance review.

Why!?

Firstly, why would I want to care less about things? Ok, I get it, caring too much about stupid little things that you can't change isn't helpful and that's probably what the advice was really. But suggesting that somebody like me try to care less is like asking Monet to leave off the water lilies for a bit. Ain't gonna happen.

Secondly, why on earth wouldn't I want to give every day my utmost? Why are there a million and one quotes about dance like nobody's watching and all that jazz if the way to get the best out of life was to just sort of mosey on through giving an average performance every average day? Sorry, but if I get hit by a bus (or any number of other quite average ways to cark it), I want to pass on knowing I gave it my best shot. Every day.



I don't understand why striving for anything other than average is not only not commended, but in many situations is actually criticised.

So, I have a message for all the propagators of average:

My name is Emma While, and I am not average. I am a high achiever, get over it. What's more, I've decided I'm no longer going to apologise or be made to feel embarrassed or ashamed of my non-averageness. Instead I am proud.

And anybody who doesn't like it can just average off.

strength training

I wrote a post for our blog at work the other week about playing to your strengths.  It's such an old, well established concept, but how many of us actually do it? In our work or in other areas of our life?

The thing is, as human beings we are, it's true, wired to focus on what we might see as negatives, or weaknesses rather than to focus on all the good stuff, which is a bit of a pain in the proverbials really. But we can rewire the way we think. Neuroplasticity says so and positive and organisational psychology show that if we do, our overall happiness, our productivity, efficiency etc increases. Thank goodness for that, because it really does get quite tiring and depressing going on about how rubbish we are at stuff all the time.

The other thing our funny little minds are quite good at is making stuff up. There will be things you think you're no good at just because that's what you've always told yourself (maybe because either you tried it once or somebody else told you you were no good at it and you just believed them). These are known as limiting beliefs and they hold you back. Since doing my NLP course I've become more finely tuned to the amount of times I notice people saying "I can't..." "I don't think I'll be able to..." and so on. LIMITING BELIEF alert. Oh, and obviously when I do it myself, but think that's a whole other post! Language and what we tell ourselves is SO important. Our silly subconscious doesn't know the difference between something that's true and something you've invented in your own mind so the more you go around talking about how rubbish you are at something, the more it will just become true.  Next time you catch yourself talking about something you can't do, just check if it really is true or just something you've always told yourself and then go back and correct what you said if needs be.

On the other hand, you might just be right, you might just be rubbish at it after all. And that's ok too.

I read a post on Moodscope the other day that said something along the lines of "do you think Usain Bolt lies awake at night worrying about not being any good at trampoline?" which I loved!

There really is nothing wrong with having weaknesses, in fact it's healthy to recognise what they are, admit we have them and ask for help and support in those areas. I'm not massively good with admin, for example. Of any description. But I know it needs doing and I hate for it not to be done. I used to get annoyed with myself over this and tie myself up in knots putting it off, doing it all slapdash just so it was done and so on. Then I just thought, hang on, this isn't a strength of mine, but it is a strength of other people's. Why waste time getting annoyed with myself and trying to force myself to get better at this when I could be doing things I am good at, and let somebody else who excels in this area help me and get it done quicker and better than I could. Phew.  I read an article about how Mark Zuckerberg, an introvert, made sure to partner up with an extrovert who could go off gallivanting around schmoozing and signing deals so he could stay safely holed up in his office focussing on what he did best. Perfect.

So it is fine to not be good at everything. Just accept it, get over it and get on with what you ARE good at. It is much more motivating. That's the point of teamwork...whether it be at work or in other relationships and situations...everybody brings different skills and strengths to the party so why not let everybody stick to those individual strengths. Much more efficient, effective, productive and fun.


Do you know what your strengths are? Really? I made a list of mine, it was quite interesting and took quite a while and lots of head scratching and crossing out. But it's brilliant now to be able to recognise what they are. The advice is that once you know your strengths, to make sure that you are then practising them all the time, honing them and putting them into good use for both yourself and everybody around you as much as possible. Which makes a lot of sense, it's not rocket science is it!? we just need to remember to do it!  If you're a manager of people, there's a big lesson in team management here too.

Which is obviously, to find people better at trampoline than you!

Giving

It's not exactly a secret that being nice to other people makes us feel nicer about ourselves. We've all heard of karma and the idea that what you give comes back around and so on and so forth. But it would appear that it is now official that actually giving to others is linked to our own happiness.

I've read quite a lot on this from various different places, giving to others is one of the pillars in the science of happiness. So I thought I'd try it for myself. Thing is I've never been stingy with my money or my time in the first place. In fact I've been known to give so much of both to others that I haven't left enough for myself. Where money is concerned,  I've always been happy to buy more than my fair share of rounds on a night out, to subsidise people who might otherwise not be able to join in and so on. But if I analyse this giving, it's mostly because I wanted to do whatever it was and needed not to do it solo. Or I wanted to stay out drinking so kept on buying drinks so people would stay with me. Those things might count as being generous but I think smack more of desperation, of having a bit of an addictive personality more than about being nice. I also donate to loads of charities. Alex even commented on this in his wedding speech. I can't watch children in need or comic relief without finishing the evening a good £50 lighter. Which is all great but it's hardly taxing is it signing a direct debit and letting it quietly leave my account every month. My time is a different thing. I'm quite carefree with how I spend that too, lending it out to all and sundry. This is because I'm not very good at saying no and because I really do like to help people and end up feeling guilty if I don't for some reason or other.
So, I decided to start giving to others and doing things for other people for no other reason than that it would make both them and me feel nice. To do it having made a purposeful choice to do it for its sake, not just because I'm weak willed or profligate with my spending.

I started small. I bought a few people at work a coffee apropos of nothing in particular. It made them smile, and that made me smile.  I told random people I liked their cardigan, or whatever and bestowed smiles on strangers in the street...its amazing how people react to these things! Then one day I walked past the big issue lady outside M&S in Maidenhead and, out of habit, shook my head at her and walked past. Then I stopped and thought, why not? So I went back and for the first time ever I bought a Big Issue.  I have never seen somebody look so thankful as she did, and that made me smile too. I gave my tickets for the Thich Naht Hanh talk away, instead of selling them or letting them go to waste and it was lovely to hear how much the lady who took them enjoyed the evening. And then, having walked past the same guy asking for change near Paddington every single day for the last 6 years, I went into Costa Coffee and loaded £10 onto a gift card for him. Ok so £10 isn't very much, but it's more than he would have had otherwise and at least I know he'll get £10 worth of food and drink. I made out to him that I just had it and would he like it...he would, very much so, he was chuffed. He hasn't asked me to spare any change since, he just tells me to have a good day.

These things have all lifted my spirits and made me nice and smiley. I wouldn't have thought that one good deed would be enough to permanently raise my happiness scores for good, but over time these things must add up and I for one will be making sure I keep at it.


Interestingly though, there is a flip side to this.  In the last week I have read two different articles about the other side of helping others. One was about volunteering and said the best volunteer work actually involved the beneficiary of the work in the process in some way...gives them a role to play. Otherwise they can be left feeling more down and a bit redundant. So we need to be careful when offering to help that we're not making the person we're helping feel useless and helpless. I thought this was a good point. The second I read today on my daily MoodScope email and it said this. That, according to a clinical psychologist, the best way to help a friend who is feeling low, is not to help them at all, but to ask THEM to help YOU.  Now when you think about it, this makes total sense. Firstly because getting them to help you gives them purpose, gets them active, takes their mind off things, gets them involved...all things we know from psychology to have a positive impact. But also because we've just established that helping other people is one of the pillars of happiness...so if we really want to help people feel happier, we just ask them to help us...and then everybody's happy. It's like some beautiful virtuous circle of help and happiness.

And this is a very important lesson for me, because whist I have always been willing to help everybody else, I am not at all good at asking for help myself. I think I know what my homework for this week is... 

harmony

Just wanted to share this...Gandhi said it a lot better than me