I hate rules. I dislike being put in a metaphorical box. And I am the worst with absolutions. I’m really good at doing things 95% of the time, but terrible at 100%. So why is this girl doing a Whole30, a program that requires complete adherence to the rules? You could say that I’m desperate…my several-year struggle with an autoimmune condition gone rogue is well-documented, as are the adverse effects on my well-being. And while I’ve made up a lot of ground on recovering from a crappy couple of years, I feel like I’m running at about 70% of my pre-2014 self. I still feel tired a lot, I’ve been getting sick frequently the last few months and I continue to carry 20 extra pounds. All three of these suggest strongly that I still have work to do.

A bit of background…most people who have an autoimmune condition also have an unhealthy gastrointestinal (GI) system. In fact, an unhealthy gut often precedes the onset of an autoimmune disorder. When the system works as it should, the insides of our intestines function essentially like the outside of the body, as it’s only through a very sophisticated barrier between the inside of the intestines and the circulatory system that certain molecules get through. So in this sense, the barrier is permeable in that it lets the good stuff through, but it also holds back all manner of toxins, bacteria, and pathogens. When the process works as it should, the digestive system breaks down the food so that the GI system can release the good stuff into the circulatory system and it can send the bad stuff on down the road (to the toilet).

In many cases before an autoimmune condition presents, this barrier breaks down. The permeability of the gut lining is increased, meaning some of the bad stuff slips through. As you’d expect, these invaders trigger an immune response, which can unleash a cascade of other reactions. Often times, a misbehaving immune system is a factor as well, but many studies show that the “leaky gut” comes first. (If you want to read more about intestinal permeability and autoimmunity, check out Sarah Ballantyne, Ph.D.’s website).

Much research is still being done to better understand what causes intestinal permeability in some people, but most scientists agree that environmental triggers are a significant factor, including stress and diet. When it comes to food, there is considerable research to suggest that grains, dairy and legumes are big offenders. (Again, check out Sarah Ballantyne’s site if you want to read more about this.) As a result, a paleo diet is often recommended by progressive medical providers as part of the treatment plan for an autoimmune condition.

Now back to the Whole30…for those that aren’t familiar with the program, it’s essentially a 30-day elimination diet that’s intended to be a reset of sorts. For 30-days, participants eat nutritious, whole foods – fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds, seafood, and meat. They avoid grains, legumes, added sugar, artificial sweeteners (including no gum), alcohol and compliant paleo baked goods with the intent of breaking some bad habits, reducing inflammation, and learning how certain foods impact the body. To keep the focus on the process, not weighing oneself during the 30 days is also a rule. The rules are strict – no cheating, not even one bite, or you start over. This is where things usually start to break down for me.

I attempted a Whole30 not long after we moved back from Fort Collins in 2015. I didn’t make it all of the through the 30 days (see the part about sucking at absolutions), but I did make some significant changes and noticeably felt better. Life got in the way though, and the changes didn’t stick. Since then I’ve made several other half-hearted attempts at improving my diet, but they never last.

In January 2016, I started seeing a new physician, and she’s been encouraging me to address my diet since our first appointment. She’s a proponent of the Wahl’s protocol, which has a paleo foundation with emphasis on certain fruits and vegetables to support mitochondrial health. Dr. Wahl’s developed her protocol while suffering from severe multiple sclerosis, which is also an autoimmune condition. In my case, medication simply treats the thyroid damage caused by the autoimmune condition, not the rogue immune system, and it’s on me to address that component. Diet is a significant part of getting things back under control.

So in an effort to finally follow doctor’s orders and address the underlying issues fueling my autoimmune condition, I’m doing a Whole30, despite the program being exactly the opposite of what I’d prefer to do. My sister Megan is joining me, she’s a Whole30 veteran and all-around badass (my sister Erin is a badass too, for the record). I hope that the accountability of a partner will help me stay focused, and get me to follow the rules (for once). My motivation for doing it is 90% related to my health and 10% due to my desire to wear my old pants. I have some really cute clothes that I haven’t been able to wear for a while. I believe that my poor diet (poor compared to the recommendations of my doc) is the biggest roadblock between me and good health. Most of the population can eat a “normal” diet and be perfectly healthy, unfortunately I am not one of those people. It’s frustrating to acknowledge that I am a barrier to my own recovery. If I can’t get back to the level of health I had before this recent flare, I don’t want it to be because I won’t stop eating pizza.

Today (Feb. 6) is Day 1. I expect to feel like crap for 7-10 days while my body adapts to the lower-carb, sugar-free diet. I’ll miss my midday diet soda and the energy boost it provides. In exchange though, I expect to sleep better, have more energy, have increased focus and finally break some really bad habits (see the midday diet soda above). I hope to lose a few pounds, but that’s not my primary motivation. Also, I want to remind myself that I can do hard things.  Someday, I hope to be a marathon runner again, and remembering I can do hard things will be important.

To give myself the best chance of success, I’m sharing this post to have a reminder of why I’m doing this and to hold myself accountable. I’m also recommitting myself to my meditation practice and journaling throughout the 30 days. I have no doubt that my sister will finish this, I’d really like to finish it with her.

Full disclosure – this is a post about politics that’s not about politics. There is no ranting, no bashing of any candidates, just my thoughts on the state of our political environment at the moment.

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The older I get, the more I’ve paid attention to politics. I think this is a natural course in life…with age comes a greater tendency to lift our heads to see the world around us. And while I’ve paid more attention to politics, I still sit on the sidelines. I vote, I read, but I’m not politically active. That might change in the future, but at this point, I feel more like a spectator than a participant.

As I’ve observed the most recent presidential election cycle, and the conversations surrounding it, I’ve become deeply worried for the collective us. I recognize that republicans and democrats have always viewed the world differently, this isn’t new. But what feels different to me is a complete communication void between those that are at opposite ends of the political spectrum. The void extends from our congressmen in DC to friends and neighbors. More recently, there’s not even a common understanding of what information is true (this is NOT a reference to the “alternative facts” comment, but a more general statement about the very different lenses through which people view the world and how we obtain our information). I perceive little effort to step back and hear a different perspective, to listen critically about why someone feels the way they do. This weekend was a perfect example of the echo chamber in which we all live.

On Friday, Donald Trump was inaugurated. Many Americans voted for him with high hopes for the change he can bring to our country. They were excited to see their candidate take office, an “outsider” who spoke their language. Most of the conversation on social media seemed to center around the size of the crowds. Granted, Trump and his administration did their part to fuel that dialogue, but from my perspective, it was the most inconsequential part of the day. It distracted from other things that happened over the weekend…Trump’s inaugural speech, his speech at the CIA. Regardless of whether or not we voted for him, we should all be listening closely to what he says, especially in these early days of his presidency. We all have the responsibility of holding our elected officials accountable, and that starts with listening to their messages unfiltered. It is not about taking shots at the president’s family, what his cake looked like, or what kind of relationship the president and first lady might have. Those are all distractions from the real work of our government.

On Saturday, there was a march in Washington and in other cities around the world. The people who marched had many personal reasons for marching, and they varied widely. The march was grounded in a liberal perspective, which means I wouldn’t expect the message to resonate with those of a more conservative viewpoint. I saw many posts in support of the march, and many others that mocked marchers, suggestions that congress should enact laws that limit protests (!!), and articles that “ranted” at those that marched. The right to peaceably assemble is part of the first amendment of our constitution. Even if a particular march or protest doesn’t reflect our own personal viewpoint, we should all celebrate and support the right of our fellow citizens to participate in this most American exercise. There will be a pro-life march in Washington on the 27th. I am not the target audience for that march as it is not my cause, but I strongly support those who will march. Protesting is important. Marching is important. Whether or not a particular protest or march resonates with our personal beliefs is not.

So, what’s next? Where does the collective we go from here? How do we move forward from this place? If we are to create a more inclusive, respectful political environment, how do we do that? My personal belief is that the acrimony in congress reflects that acrimony present in our society. If we change, congress will change. It won’t be fast, but change will happen. If I could make a to-do list for us, myself included, this is where I’d start. It is by no means all-inclusive (I’m essentially spit-balling at this point), and I welcome additional thoughts on how we can collectively move forward from this dark, divisive place.

• Stop judging each other on the lowest common denominator. The majority of republicans are not racist, homophobic, gun-loving anti-feminists. The majority of liberals are not delicate flowers (i.e. snowflakes)  who live on welfare, expecting the government to fix all of their problems. In any group you’ll find assholes…whether that’s a political party, a group with a shared hobby such as runners, or a profession. We must resist the temptation to judge a collective based on the worst of that group.
• Focus less on what others are doing and focus more on our own sphere of influence. Don’t support the platform of the march? Don’t march. Think the Affordable Care Act is the worst thing that ever happened? Work with your congress-people to advocate for change. Believe that Planned Parenthood provides critical healthcare to women living in poverty? Get involved in advocating for the organization’s survival. Lets find those things that matter to us, and work to change those things, without judgment towards those who share different views.
• Have conversations with people we trust. Don’t understand why people are so passionate about the second amendment? Talk to people you know who are responsible gun-owners. Don’t understand why the LGBTQ community is concerned right now? Talk with people who are part of that community. Listen more, talk less. Even among those that share similar viewpoints, there is much to be learned through thoughtful dialogue. I recently had a conversation with two similarly-minded friends that reframed my view on a topic in which I thought I was well-grounded. I was grateful for the conversation, and appreciated the opportunity evolve my perspective.
• Resist the urge to use labels when talking about those with different viewpoints. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT.
• Recognize that most have complicated belief systems. Very rarely are things as black-and-white as they seem. Even in the most hot-button of issues, most have nuanced views that can’t be well-articulated by a soundbite or meme. So many conversations are reductive. I believe that by walking away from the 1,000 shades of grey that lay in the middle of most any issue, we do ourselves a great disservice.
• Get involved. Support candidates who reflect your beliefs. Help get them elected and communicate with them throughout their term. Volunteer for causes that resonate. Pivot away from things that don’t matter to you and towards the things that do.

I’m worried for us. I’ve observed more than a few friendships breakdown over this political season. This stuff matters, and it matters a lot, but so do the people in our lives. From this moment forward, I’m committed to building more bridges and listening more. When pushing back against a policy or candidate I disagree with, I’m committed to resisting thoughtfully, respectfully, and with grace. I recognize that this approach doesn’t resonate with everyone, and that’s groovy. But this will be my path forward.

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“Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.”
― John F. Kennedy, January 20, 1961

“A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both.” ― Dwight D. Eisenhower

I’m not the most qualified person to be speaking on this topic, so I bring it up with hesitation. But I think it’s important.

I progressed embarrassingly far in life before I spent much time considering the concept of privilege. It’s not that I didn’t think it existed, or that I didn’t understand the very real disparities challenging particular communities, but I didn’t give deep consideration to its origins, implications or consequences. Let me be clear that I realize that in-and-of itself is privilege. But since my foray into public health, I’ve had to sit with the concept. If I’m going to make my community healthier for ALL residents, I need to understand the various factors, both positive and negative, that are impacting health. I’ve learned there are many kinds of privilege – racial, economic, heterosexual, gender, religious, etc. You can benefit from one kind of privilege and be disadvantaged in other ways. Privilege is a systemic, cultural experience, not an individual construct.

When you dig into the data, it’s clear that significant disparities exist. For example, non-Hispanic blacks have the highest age-adjusted rates of obesity (48.1%) followed by Hispanics (42.5%), non-Hispanic whites (34.5%), and non-Hispanic Asians (11.7%).  Blacks, non-Hispanics, and Mexican Americans aged 35–44 years experience untreated tooth decay nearly twice as much as white, non-Hispanics. (Health statistics from the CDC) The rate of suicide attempts is four times greater for Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual (LGB) youth and two times greater for questioning youth than that of straight youth. Suicide attempts by LGB youth and questioning youth are four-to-six times more likely to result in injury, poisoning, or overdose that requires treatment from a doctor or nurse, compared to their straight peers. (Suicide statistics from The Trevor Project) One of every three African American children and one of every four Latino children live in poverty— two times higher than the rate for white children. By age three, white children have a significantly larger vocabulary than black children of the same economic class. The gap for race is as large as the gap for class, and remains the same through age 13. Racial disparities in poverty result from cumulative disadvantage over the life course, as the effects of hardship in one domain spill over into other domains. (Poverty statistics from the Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy, University of Michigan)

Still with me? If when confronted with the concept of privilege, you’re inclined to justify the disparities, qualify them, diminish their significance, please don’t. Sit with the impulse and consider why you feel the need to push back. Our society’s tendency to brush aside these realities has been damaging communities for over a century.

As I’ve observed conversations about privilege over the past few years, several themes emerged. Setting aside those that acknowledge the realities of privilege…there are those that feel the presence of privilege diminishes their own personal accomplishments or hard work (it doesn’t). There are those who believe the disparities exist at the fault of the vulnerable communities themselves (they don’t). Then there are those that proclaim privilege simply doesn’t exist (it does). And usually in the midst of these conversations, if someone says the word “privilege” out loud (or in writing), many of these individuals will respond vigorously, using their personal beliefs and experiences to deny the existence of it. A single person’s experience is never a counterpoint to the experience of an entire community of people, or to the data which supports that experience.

How do we have this conversation? How do we talk about privilege in a way that allows us to move beyond the question of whether or not it exists (considering the mountain of data that proves it does), and to the conversation about reconciling it? I’ve found myself avoiding use of the word during these conversations. Generally, I’m not inclined to avoid a difficult topic or term to make others more comfortable, but as I’ve experienced how this word can single-handedly shut down dialogue, I’ve shifted my approach in the interest of maintaining the conversation. Having this dialogue is critical, particularly if it leads to a deepened understanding. But not calling it what it is diminishes it, so I’m invested in learning how to name it without losing the conversation. This is messy work.

Related to my last post, I believe that an investment in reconciling privilege is rooted in compassion. If we, as a society, aren’t compassionate towards vulnerable Americans, vulnerable communities, we won’t be committed to eliminating disparities. Disadvantaged communities need advantaged communities as allies in their quest for equity. Compassionate allies can build important bridges that will be necessary to achieving that equity.

As a member of an advantaged community, what can you do?

• Listen. Seek to understand the experiences of those who are different from you. Hear their stories and trust their truth.
• Ask. Inquire about how best to be an ally. Let those affected by disparities guide you in how to engage.
• Seek. Work to understand your own privilege.  By better understanding the systemic structures that work for your benefit, you’ll be better able to identify how these same systems might be adversely affecting others. Dig into the data, there is a considerable amount of research that can help inform your perspective.
• Act. Find your passion and be a doer. Volunteer for a local non-profit, or contact your local legislators to advocate for policies that are important to the communities you are supporting. Write letters to the editor or donate money. Don’t sit on the sidelines. Get involved in ways that resonate with you. (If you’re an introvert, don’t volunteer to make phone calls, you’ll hate yourself for it later.)
• In a position to cultivate awareness among others about privilege? The Privilege Walk is a non-threatening, impactful exercise that can spark rich dialogue. If you’re still unsure about privilege and how it influences our experiences, just reading through the exercise can help you understand the subtle, but impactful ways it touches our lives.

“Privilege doesn’t just insulate people from the consequences of their prejudice, it cuts them off from their humanity.”                               ― DaShanne Stokes

Definition of compassion (Merriam-Webster) – sympathetic consciousness for others’ distress together with a desire to alleviate it

Synonyms – mercy, leniency, tolerance, humanity, kindness, warmth, love, tenderness, care, concern

While we lived in Fort Collins, I had the privilege of working with a coalition of residents who lived in several very low-income neighborhoods around town. Most of the residents were Hispanic, some were undocumented. I worked in public health, immersed in data about the inequities that exist within our systems and institutions. I learned that health outcomes are systematically worse for Americans living in poverty and for those who aren’t white. I learned that where we live has more of an influence on our health than our personal habits or whether or not we have access to a physician. I learned that these are well-researched facts which articulate the harsh realities that many Americans face every single day. (Go here if you want to read more about the social determinants of health.)

The residents I worked with were honest, kind and hard-working. They worried about their kids, worried about their parents, and enjoyed talking about all of the same things I talk about with my friends. And they lived in the deepest poverty I’ve ever witnessed first-hand.

As I’ve listened to the political discourse over the past year, I’ve thought often of those residents. I’ve been deeply empathetic for as long as I can remember, but there’s a new dimension when you’ve worked closely with others to address the systemic challenges they’re facing, especially when those individuals’ experiences are vastly different from your own. Every time there’s a conversation about immigrants, I think of them. Every time someone makes an assumption about those who are undocumented, I think of them.

Throughout this election, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about compassion. After listening, listening and listening some more, my perspective is that as a society we’ve lost ours. Recently, caring about the welfare of others is something to justify, to defend. Or at least it has been for me. Compassion transcends politics, is beyond red and blue. Compassion is acknowledging the very real disparities that exist, politics is disagreeing on the solutions.

When we live in a world where we can create online and in-person communities that reinforce our own beliefs, that insulate us from natural tension and discourse, it becomes easier to make assumptions about those who are different, whatever different means. Whether that’s urbanites and rural Americans, straight and LGBTQ, white and brown, rich or poor, we are inherently weaker with a myopic view. And we lose the middle, the 1000 shades of grey in between. It becomes harder to cultivate compassion for those who’ve walked a different path. With regards to our politicians, they are merely a reflection of the reality we ourselves have created. When we become more, they will be more. It’s like that old business saying…culture eats strategy for breakfast. We are the culture.

So compassion. Of all of the challenges facing us, compassion is fundamental. Until we (the collective we) rediscover our humanity, become invested in the success of all Americans, we’ll continue down this path. It’s a step back from politics. Questions that remain unanswered for me…how do we cultivate compassion? How do we personalize the challenges facing marginalized and vulnerable communities, how do communicate their unique challenges so that their stories are accessible and relatable? (These two questions are incredibly relevant to my professional life as well, so if anyone has any answers, please share.) Most importantly, how do we funnel that compassion into meaningful change? Caring for and about one another is strength, acknowledging that some people do need more help is grace, providing that help is compassion.

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”  ― Mother Teresa