5 Things I Will Never Do Again

 I will never again accept love that doesn't honor and cherish.

I was raised to believe that love doesn't keep score--doesn't look out for its own interests, doesn't draw the line at giving 50%, doesn't count the cost. And these things are true, when love is healthy and reciprocal and safe. However, my commitment to them in the absence of any other concerns has led me to put my own needs and well-being, not just on the back burner, but completely off the stove.

I was lucky enough to get a second chance, with a love that gave and gave and gave. I got something that many people never get, the opportunity to be loved by someone who wanted my best above all else, who rejoiced over my success, who gave me a safe space to live and learn and grow. The fact of the matter is, I'm not looking for love again at all. I've been so fortunate, I've had love like so many people only dream of, and I couldn't ask for anything more. But one thing I can say without hesitation is that if love ever comes into my life again, I will never, ever again settle for less than I've had.

 I will never again fail to stand up for my kids. 

There were a lot of years during which my top priority was to make my family work. In order to do this, I believed, it was necessary for everyone to give and to forgive. I still believe that, and in healthy relationships this dynamic of reciprocal grace is a key foundation. However, like most wise principles for working relationships, this can morph into something dysfunctional and damaging if it doesn't exist within healthy and appropriate limits.

I expected my kids to give and forgive in ways that were harmful to them. I allowed them to experience mistreatment as part of a relationship, when they had no ability or power to knowingly consent to a sacrifice like that. They were too young to understand how or where to set their own boundaries, and it was my responsibility to teach this to them, model it for them, and set healthy and protective boundaries for them in the meantime, and I failed at this. 

One time--once--and only when I felt there was nothing left to lose, I gathered my resolve and stood between my child and his attacker, not caring about the consequences. It was good, and scary, and I felt brave and dangerous and right. But it was long overdue. My kids deserved better from me, and there won't be another time when they don't get it.

 I will never again consider my mental and emotional well-being an unnecessary luxury.

I used to evaluate everything in life based on one simple question--"Do I need it?" By this I meant, can I live without this thing? If whatever was in question was not something I needed to physically live, it pretty much failed the test. I would not invest time and energy, or especially spend money, on anything that wasn't necessary. I wouldn't grant myself margin or give myself any slack for any needs that weren't unavoidable.

A lot of things have changed my perspective on this. For one thing, as a parent, I realized I regarded my children's needs completely differently than my own. This raised the question of why my own wellness would be of less value than theirs. On top of that, being loved by someone who cares for your total well-being makes you start to suspect that your well-being is worth caring for. Having cancer also makes you take a look at your life with a different perspective. And frankly, some of the shift is probably just getting old, and hopefully gaining some wisdom to go with it.

So the older I get, the more I've changed my idea of what it means to need something. If my kids asked for a mental health day off school, they got it, and if I needed one, I took it. I've re-evaluated my priorities. I do cut myself some slack. I work a lot harder to take care of myself and the people around me in ways that are about more than survival, and I'll never go back.

I will never again judge my body by toxic cultural standards around weight and attractiveness.

Wow, guys. This is a big one. And to be honest, it's hard. I haven't mastered it. I still slip. But it is so, so important.

Something major had to happen for me to get to this place. The messages of fat-shaming and the cultural pressures around women's standards of attractiveness came home to live with me. And in order to survive this, I had to completely detox myself from any form of buy-in. So here's where I'm at today. I don't shame myself around food. I don't ever eat anything because of feelings of guilt or obligation. I choose food that's good for my body, that tastes good, that makes me feel good. I eat in ways that support my relationships and my larger life priorities. I participate and I celebrate and I nourish myself. I'm not afraid of the scale--I weigh myself. I'm not afraid to lose weight if there's a reason--I had a medical issue this last year that I knew I could improve by taking off a little, so I lost 15 pounds. But I reject the idea that losing weight is automatically good and something to be congratulated about. Losing weight is neutral. Gaining weight is neutral. Weight is morally neutral. No matter what that number says on the scale, I can be healthy, happy, beautiful, and worthy of love. And I'll remind myself of that as many times as I need to.

I will never again measure my worth by my productivity.

OK, well, that's a lie. I totally will. But this one is aspirational.

Several years ago, in a blazing hot early September, while camping on my parents' property, my mom asked the group of us if we would pick one of my parents' apple trees. She'd done it herself the year before, she said, but just wasn't feeling into it this year. We quickly agreed and set to it. I will readily admit that I was the first one to quit and go inside for a few minutes' break in the air conditioning. I came back out to find the rest of the crew dropping off as well. Rick was the only one who worked the whole time, completely harvesting every usable apple on the tree. Understand, my mother, in her 70's, had previously done this task herself.

If you know my parents, this doesn't surprise you, because you already know that they're an unstoppable machine. Both in their late 70's now, they are starting to slow down, but the two of them can still outwork people half their age. All my life, I've planned for their visits by compiling a task list of things that would take me weeks to accomplish, because they come, they see, and they conquer. They are really a marvel.

What has also taken me all my life, though, is to learn to view this as my parents' unique gift, rather than the basic standard for all human life. It was great to grow up in a family that attacked life like the Incredibles every day and always came out on top. And to be honest, most of my life I've had a pretty high capacity myself, at least compared to most people, if not to my mom and dad. But since 2019, I've slowed down a lot, and that's brought on a lot of uncomfortable confrontations with guilt, shame, depression, inadequacy, and all the feelings associated with not living up to my own expectations (and what I imagine the expectations of others to be).

I don't know what the future holds for me in this area. Maybe I'll go back to kicking life's ass, and maybe I won't. But either way, I hope I'll make peace with the fact that I don't have to in order to be a worthwhile human, and maybe even be able to know that I'm actually still doing a good job.