I’ve been thinking about something I wrote a couple weeks back. This is the paragraph to be specific:
It’s all just data. And with that data you can make an adult choice about what you’re going to eat or how often you’re going to consume it.
The context of this paragraph was a review of the theory and my experience with “The Plan” by Lyn-Genet Recitas.
I like, no, love the idea of using our bodies as experimental facilities. How does this food make my body feel? How does this behavior affect the outcome I’m trying to achieve? (Be it weight, or heavy periods, or sleep, or even joy.)
That term “adult choice” has lingered deep inside my brain thingy. I define an “adult choice” as fully understanding the consequence of how a behavior / choice will affect you, your body, and your life. And possibly the lives of others.
I’ve realized something since writing that phrase.
Sometimes adult choices suck big time. (Tweet it!)
I like, no, love cheese but eating it hurts my belly, gives me night mares and causes weight gain.
I love sourdough bread but it turns my brain to mush: a hazy, foggy mess.
My mulling about “adult choices” has actually been more about emotional repression, as this too is an “adult choice” one we are taught, when we are quite young.
Commonly the adult choice in emotionally hard situations is to convince the body it doesn’t feel anything or use some sort of escape tactic (various forms of addiction) to numb out. The stress of trying to override our emotions can (and will) affect our physical health. We pretend like everything is fine. Life is just dandy. Nothing is bothering us.
“I’ve got my happy face on today!”
(That is a line from my favorite movie, Strictly Ballroom, said by a mother is very distraught that her son danced his own steps at a dance competition, against her wishes.)
I question whether this “choice” to essentially lie about what is real for us is truly an adult choice by my own definition. Do we know the complete set of consequences of our choice? Perhaps we do. But I reckon that we don’t fully.
Putting your happy face on means that you won’t disappoint people or won’t piss them off. This means you won’t lose love or attention. But at what cost? Anxiety? Insomnia? Depression? Irritable bowel syndrome? Even infertility?
I recently took a dance class called, “Groove” at the 2014 Bellyfit Summit where I was offering BodyTalk sessions to the guests and presenters.
Built into this dance class was a frantic, frenzied movement that I can only describe as an adult tantrum. There we were, about 150 women, pounding our fists in the air and jumping up and down. Hard.
And after? I felt easy and calm. And happy. Hmm…
Maybe toddler choices are a better idea.
Lets review the anatomy of a tantrum.
Mommy says little Sally can’t have any ice cream.
She’s angry. She starts screaming. She starts hitting furniture or the floor. Her feet begin kicking. Her voice is shrill.
And then like an ebbing tide the sobs come. Big, heavy gasps for air. Her body is surrendering to the sadness.
And soon the breathing becomes easier.
As quick as it started, it is over.
She’s back to playing, building her Lego house.
Allowing this natural escalation and denouement is profoundly emotionally mature. Minutes of honesty versus years of repression.
Tantrums heal emotions.
It takes a lot of energy to keep a beach ball below the water, and the same is true for what we feel. One day it pops back up to the surface, creating quite a ripple.
Interestingly, we are born with this innate ability to ride the wave of hard emotions. But we make “adult choices” to punish our children for expressing themselves, and causing a scene. We unlearn the natural way of processing emotions.
I actually just had an adult tantrum the other day. I was angry at my husband for something that was actually related to something else. I was huffing, and puffing, stomping around, ignoring him, trying to ignore myself, until my beach ball popped up to the surface and finally I let it out.
The anger, the shouting, the crying – oh the sobs. And after a few mere moments there I was making jokes and laughing. Thankfully through out all of this my husband had forced me into a hug, and he just held me as I rode it out. At first I didn’t even want to touch him, but eventually I melted in to his embrace. Both of us accepting how I felt was incredibly healing.
I think adult tantrum therapy should totally be a thing.
I know some therapists use this in their practice. If you don’t have one near by get yourself to your nearest Groove class, or take your broom into the woods and bang on stuff, and scream. The release will bring bliss.
Back to the idea of food choices. Often when I run food sensitivity tests with my patients they’ll comment about how as children they were always repulsed by certain foods that showed up on their test as reactive. Hmmm… toddler choices. We inherently know what works for us, until it is unlearned.
So yeah.
I’ve been thinking about “adult choices” and how they suck sometimes.
I’d love to hear from you. Have you ever had an adult tantrum? How did you feel afterwards? What was the outcome of your outburst?
To your healthy, thriving, delightful life (even if it includes the odd adult tantrum!)
Dr. Tonia
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