The Art (and Drama) of Self-Advocating
I am learning in real time the need for self-compassion.
I want to switch gears completely for today and talk about self-advocating for what we need.
After going to the doctor last week—which is not something I do nearly enough—I left feeling frustrated because I hadn’t effectively advocated for what I needed.
At my job as the VP of Brand Editorial at Kinder Beauty, we are required to take a wellness day once a month and very strongly encouraged to fill that day with whatever self-care means to us.
Though I recognize and celebrate the value of taking wellness days, the whole concept feels very millennial to me so I find I have to choose to opt-in to this #selfcareatwork mindset. And since I identify much more as GenX—even if I just barely made the cut-off (I was born in October 1979, and though there is no clear definition for when GenX ends, it’s said to be anywhere between 1980 and 1984—which might be why some people classify those of us born in the very late 70s to very early 80s to be part of a microgeneration called Xennials)—I skew a bit more toward workaholism than my younger peers.
This, for me, usually takes the form of not being able to turn my brain off, even though my computer might indeed be off. So when I’m mandated to take a wellness day, it’s very hard for me to not just write the entire day or do some other form of sitting in front of a screen in an attempt to be productive.
My colleagues have been sharing in the Slack channel how they are taking their wellness days: Skiing with their family. Going for a hike. Meditating. Doing my best to take their cue, I decided that having a doctor’s appointment in the early evening was an indicator that I should take off work and fill my day with things that bring me joy: Taking a walk, even if it’s a very snowy one. Getting a matcha oat latte at the fancy tea place. Meandering around the library.
And since life doesn’t always go according to plan, instead of doing those things, I spent the day worrying. Though I did go through a few of the motions—including taking a precarious, somewhat dangerous walk on the literal icy ground—I mostly spent my wellness day dreading my evening appointment.
Sense & Sensitivities
There is actually an important lesson here for me to approach my next wellness day much differently—like perhaps having some plans in place so that I don’t fall back into my regular routine. And maybe I shouldn’t take my day off on a day when I have to go to the doctor; maybe the best thing is for me to spend the rest of my doctor-day busying myself at work.
Though I recognize the many privileges of having health insurance (but when will we get universal healthcare, already?!), I am downright traumatized by the doctor. From having a questionable full exam when I was a child, which left me weeping in my mother’s car and spending decades wondering what had just happened; to being told as a 19-year-old that I needed to lose weight while I was mid-exam during my first trip to the gynecologist; to being improperly diagnosed with a condition and thus improperly medicated as a college student—causing me so many terrible physical side effects that I had to drop out of school for a semester; to being given a skin allergy test in my thirties and then having the symptoms from the allergens treated with a medication I was, in fact, allergic to, the way I’ve dealt with doctors for the past twenty years has basically been to simply avoid them.
Avoiding doctors is probably somewhere between a privilege and foolishness. And I get that. But as someone who has spent most of my life somewhere on the fat spectrum—with the exception of the 10 minutes when I was thin, during which time I got a book deal about how the world treats fat people—I am downright traumatized by the anti-fat bias running rampant in the medical-industrial complex.
Relatedly, check out my VegNews article on the conflation between anti-fat bias and vegan advocacy. Here’s a line from it:
In a world where discrimination can range from hurtful (fat people are routinely the butt of jokes in everything from casual conversation to big-screen Hollywood movies) to outright dangerous (doctors regularly advise weight loss, without further analysis, to fat patients while recommending blood work, CAT scans, or physical therapy for patients of smaller size experiencing the same symptoms), fat people are regularly given the message that they are unworthy.
Though my experiences have not been that extreme, I am a very sensitive jasmin (with no “e”) flower, and even the microaggressions I’ve experienced have been enough to keep me far, far away.
Nowadays, when I go to the doctor, I go so far out of my way to ensure they don’t talk about weight that I must sound completely bananas. And time and time again, the doctor or nurse in front of me has literally no idea why my requests are so adamant. I honestly think that I exist in my own little bubble sometimes and when I step outside of it, the issues I am obsessed with are little more than an afterthought to the people working in the very industries that require the biggest shifts. Toward the top of that list is the anti-fat bias entrenched in the medical industry.
Doctor’s Orders
So when I went to the doctor last week after using up my wellness day worrying—and making a big, giant deal about what I would and wouldn’t discuss—I ultimately succumbed to the so-called expertise of the medical resident sitting in front of me and trusted that she’d expertly advise me about how to treat a couple of long-lingering conditions. I don’t really understand why I assumed she’d know how to treat me—especially since she kept reiterating that we only had 20 minutes together, and I have upwards of 42 years of dealing with some of this stuff—but I still figured she’d know what she was doing.
And it’s not as though she was inept, but she definitely didn’t give me the proper care or the appropriate medicine for me. In fact, one of my closest friends is an esteemed ER nurse and (despite being holed up with Covid) spent the greater part of the day prior researching my concerns and providing me with some insights about treatment. One of my friend’s most adamant statements was regarding a medication I absolutely should not go on because I struggle with anxiety (this is not a secret and my doctor knows this, too), and the number-one side effect for this commonly prescribed medication is anxiety and irritability. (Because I really need to be more irritable.)
You can probably guess where I’m going with this: That was indeed the medication I was prescribed, and despite vocalizing my concern over this side effect (which the doctor hadn’t heard of, even though when I google the medicine, increased anxiety is the first thing that comes up), I went home with it—as well as a different medication that I honestly don’t understand why I was prescribed in the first place. I was given no bloodwork, no urinalysis, and no physical exam aside from checking my heart and lungs.
This is where my frustration comes in—and maybe it’s surprising that the frustration is directed at me. Though I know I should be more self-compassionate, given the circumstance, in retrospect, I wish I had advocated for myself a bit more intently. There were things I knew I needed that I didn’t ask for because I was a bit like a deer in headlights that whole time, and I didn’t want to overstep my role as the “patient.” But I know myself better than my doctor does, and I wish I had trusted my instincts. As a result, I am on a questionable medication that I think is off the mark for me, and it causes side effects that I’m probably struggling through for no good reason.
Self-Compassion is Not Just a Hashtag
I wanted to write about self-advocating today because I think there are other places where we can practice it besides just the doctor. Whether it’s in our romantic relationships, our friendships, our work, or just when we are out and about, it’s OK to give ourselves permission to kindly ask for what we need. And if we don’t get it, it’s OK to press further.
That’s where I usually get tripped up; the second time around of asking. It makes me uncomfortable to reassert my needs when they haven’t originally been met because I am not a giant fan of conflict.
But I want to do better in this regard; I want to do what it takes to self-advocate, even if it feels scary or uncomfortable. I want to trade in my deer in headlights vibe for one that is self-assured, calm, and organized.
And I know I can self-advocate right now by extending a dollop more of self-compassion regarding my recent doctor’s visit. It wasn’t easy to show up that day, especially given my traumatic history with doctors. And it’s not like I was a totally hopeless case; I just want to be able to self-advocate unwaveringly the next time I go.
I’ll throw this question out there for you: Are there any areas in your life where you can better self-advocate? Do you feel uncomfortable or frustrated sometimes after you leave a situation, like you self-abandoned because it felt easier than having possible conflict? What does it look like to visualize that situation going better for you?
How to Better Self-Advocate
I don’t have all the answers here—obviously, this is something I struggle with, too—but I think the first step to more effectively self-advocating is to offer self-compassion (compassion unlocks identity, as I once stated in my Tedx talk). Part of offering self-compassion means validating our uncomfortable feelings around the situation, while concurrently recognizing that feelings aren’t facts. Meaning: they are real (I genuinely was nervous and upset in anticipation of going to the doctor) but they aren’t based in current circumstances (nobody was actively trying to harm me; my feelings were based on my past traumas). It’s important to remember that distinction; it can save us from a lot of unnecessary upset.
After we extend ourselves that compassion—and remember, we are just human animals doing our best to get by in a very complex world—it might be worthwhile to get more prepared. Write out a list of what you want to get out of the situation so that you have something to refer to.
Then, be gentle with both yourself and, if possible, the person on the other end of your request. They are also a human-animal doing their best in the given circumstance.
One thing I have noticed some people resort to when being confronted with someone else’s need is extreme defensiveness and even anger. If we are able to somehow stay grounded (which might mean taking lots of deep breaths, remembering that self-advocating doesn’t necessarily mean we have to have the last word, and offering compassion and empathy to the person we are with—without self-abandoning), we might find it easier to get our needs met.
Being straightforward and kind about our needs as we self-advocate can be key to feeling good about it later—not frustrated with ourselves, as I felt after the doctor.
It’s also OK to circle back to something if you didn’t get your needs met initially. Sometimes, there are just too many confounding variables in the moment and we are, for whatever reason, unable to stick the dismount. We don’t get just one chance, though. Self-advocating isn’t a practice that expires on a certain date (you’re thinking of that questionable tempeh in the back of your fridge).
And remember—it is a practice. So even though I didn’t get it completely right with my doctor last week, I do see the ways I did effectively self-advocate. And part of self-advocating means prioritizing my physical and mental wellbeing—which might partly take the form of going to the doctor.
All of this has been a lesson for me. Not only in terms of how I can better show up for myself in these situations but also in terms of how I can better approach what wellness or self-care looks like for me. I might be a curmudgeonly Xennial, but I am nonetheless a curmudgeonly Xennial with a strong need for R&R. And since I’m not exactly hard-wired to spend my day off skiing or meditating, it means I need to take that extra step to find my own version of chill. I think I’ll self-advocate and make that happen.
I just need to have a little discussion with my inside voices that tend to get in the way of my own best interests. Those voices can be assholes, but I think I’m learning how to talk to them so that they’ll listen.
xo,
jazz
P.S. Just a small update on my YA book: It’s moving forward. I have a couple of people reading it. I put together a proposal even though I later found out I don’t need one. I will be chatting with my agent about it in about a month, which gives me time to edit and revise. I will keep you posted when there is new news.
I'm so sorry to hear that you had that experience. It really is a social justice issue. I wish you the best path with the medication.
A friend goes to a naturopath instead of an MD. She respects Eastern medicine more.