Hi. Welcome to Bloom Anywhere. I'm Gwen Moran, a writer, editor, author, and problem-solver. My goal is to share information, ideas, and resources to help you overcome obstacles, reach your goals, and get more joy out of life, even when things are messy. Thanks for joining me. (If you got this from a friend, subscribe here: Bloom Anywhere.) I'd love your feedback and suggestions for future topics. Please send me an email: connect@bloomanywhere.com.
I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of my doctor’s office, eyes closed, breathing deeply. To anyone walking by, I look like a patient with a case of white coat syndrome, gathering herself before she faces her medical fears. And, while that’s not entirely inaccurate, what a passerby wouldn’t know was that, in my head, I’m actually donning a suit of armor with chain maille accents.
It’s not some Renaissance Faire fantasy. It’s a ritual that is a gift from a therapist I know.
A simple gift
Most of us have had to endure situations and people we dread because we know they are likely to involve hurtful words and sentiments. For me, one of those situations occurred a few years ago when I was dreading a follow-up visit with a medical specialist.
At the time, I had been diagnosed with Stage IV lipedema. Lipedema is a fat tissue disorder that causes pain and decreases mobility. It’s also something that not many physicians or specialists understand—or even know about—and most dismiss it as the patient being overweight or obese. When I try to explain lipedema to physicians or specialists, I get reactions ranging from condescension to dismissal. This doctor had previously been confrontational about the condition.
Just about every person I know who exists in a larger body shares a certain brand of dark humor: Go to the doctor for a sinus infection. Stay for the lecture on losing weight. Feeling nauseated? Try dieting and exercise. Infected hangnail? Maybe you’d feel better with a lower BMI. There is a pile of research about medical bias when it comes to plus-size patients. According to one study by researchers at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, “Physicians have less respect for obese patients, perceive obese patients as non-adherent to medications, and associate obesity with ‘laziness’ and ‘worthlessness’. These attitudes may negatively influence how physicians communicate with their patients.” So, you can imagine how they respond when you try to explain to them that much of the adipose tissue on your body is the result of a progressive condition instead of a poor diet.
As I explained the situation and the dread I was feeling to the therapist, she looked at me and said, “You need a bubble.”
Shelter from psychological sticks and stones
She described the game of Bubble Football, where participants don large, clear plastic bubbles and kick a soccer ball around. The bubbles allow players to bounce off each other, even when they hit hard. She explained that I could train myself to do the same thing psychologically. Picture yourself in one of those bubbles, she said (paraphrasing), and let all of the negative or ignorant comments bounce right off.
I wasn’t convinced. But my anxiety was increasing, and I was pretty miserable. On the day of the appointment, I followed her instructions, sitting in my car for a bit, visualizing being in the suit and having his comments bounce off the shiny plastic exterior.
I was doing more visualization in the exam room when he walked in. He looked at my chart and asked if I’d made an appointment for a weight loss surgery consult yet. (I had previously explained to him that weight loss surgery, in addition to not being of interest to me, is often ineffective for people with lipedema.) Just as he made the comment, I pictured it bouncing off the side of my bubble and narrowly missing his head. The thought was so amusing that I almost laughed out loud. The rest of the appointment went quickly, and I left feeling good about myself. I was sold. Since then, I’ve adapted the “suit” to be a more flattering combination of armor and chain maille, which protects me, while also leaving space for any kind or caring remarks to be fully received.
The technique isn’t just for doctor visits. It can prove useful any time you anticipate negative or hurtful interactions. A difficult client meeting? Put on the suit. Getting ready to confront someone about a job not well done? Bubble/armor time. Dysfunctional family gathering? Suit up. I’ve found the more you practice it, the better it works.
How do you shield yourself from negativity?
Do you have your own techniques for shielding yourself from ignorant or hurtful comments? I’d love to learn about them. Shoot me an email at connect@bloomanywhere.com.
Bloom Drops
Things I want to share with you.
Tripping: My dear friend Kristin Ohlson wrote a fascinating essay for Oldster about taking psychedelics during this past Easter holiday. Her work is always riveting, and the writing beautiful.
Cutting the cord: This is more of a personal share than a find, but a few weeks ago, we cut cable. We now have nothing but the internet and streaming services. The house is more peaceful without the constant white noise of the television. When we watch something, it’s purposeful. We still have live TV through an app for news, but I prefer to read my news, anyway. I wish we had done it years ago (despite the three phone calls and tantrum that appear to be necessary before Optimum disconnects cable service).
