Hi, double standards
Why is it so hard to take our own advice?
Welcome to Solicited Advice, our weekly column that celebrates the helpfulness in health. Because in a world where strangers at the grocery store love to tell you that a specific brand of magnesium will indeed “cure” what ails you (it probably won’t, so sorry), we’re all about passing on our lived experience in a way that makes your life a little better. Are we experts? Nah, not really. But we’re great listeners who have perfected the art of pillow screaming. Let’s get into it!
[us, talking to ourselves] Wow, you all give the absolute best health advice in the entire world, which is impressive considering most of humanity believes they’re the experts on everything. But here’s a question: Do you actually take your own advice?
Ash: 🫣 Cue the GIF of Homer Simpson hiding in the bushes. But the actual answer is yes and no.
I don’t see health professionals as often as I suggest. And if something gets pulled off my schedule for whatever reason, unless there’s something going on that requires me to see a doctor, that’s often the only way I’ll make an appointment. I don’t drink enough water that would actually help with a handful of things. I forget to eat because my body seldom feels “hunger.” And all the tips and tricks in the world that I’ve shared here tend to work in short bursts despite my best efforts.
The truth is, most of the time in this body of mine, I’m surviving with occasional moments of thriving — or at least what I consider thriving. I do not treat myself as kindly as I should when I am feeling particularly unwell; in fact, my brain tells me I’m often a waste of space during those times, despite knowing that self-care practices such as resting should be something I allow myself without judgment.
Ultimately, we can give all the advice in the world but we’re still humans, which makes us full of fallibility and feelings, and we just have to remind ourselves of that when we don’t listen as well as we should.
Jess: *shocked face* OF COURSE WE DO. Every time. Without exception!
Nah, I’m just kidding. I have a frustrating tendency to know what to do, and not do it. I’m also really good at giving all of the grace and understanding to everyone else, but not to myself. Everyone else can run late and it’s not the end of the world, but if I do it, obviously I’m a terrible person who can’t manage their life. Everyone can exist in their body exactly as it is and and and, except me, of course. Everyone else can take breaks and downtime and vacations and yes babe, take that time! But when I do it, I feel crushing guilt and shame for wanting or needing that break (thankfully I’ve learned to work through that guilt and still do it, but it’s a process).
I think ultimately a lot of it is internalized ableism, and since there’s no cure, I’m just gonna keep plugging away at parsing through it and taking whatever small steps I can to give myself the grace and understanding and love I give to others.
Kat: Well, I feel exceptionally called out… by my own reflection. I have one main area in my life where I am having to consistently and consciously prompt myself to take my own advice: attending events, holidays, or social gatherings. I will be the first person to praise someone who listens to their body/mind by deciding to opt out of attending something. I truly never question anyone’s motives or intent because I so often find myself being the person who doesn’t attend; and I so deeply appreciate the no-questions-asked attitude extended to me by other people. So please, for all things holy in the year of the trad wife, tell me why I push myself into a pseudo panic attack state when I have to back out, reschedule, or cancel plans altogether? It’s probably one of my biggest sources of shame and guilt, especially because I pride myself on being reliable.
I often find myself thinking about this topic, and what I’ve been able to come up with is that those situations force me to confront how sick I actually am. I’ve become immune to the pill bottles and the appointments and the phone calls. It sucks, but I’ve accepted it. But when my state of being directly conflicts with living a meaningful life, I spiral like an apple peel. The frustration leads to an erosion of my self-worth and ignites prickly intrusive thoughts, and the cycle begins all over when new plans are inevitably made.
I think at the root of this, somewhere in the underbelly of it all, is a lesson about self-esteem. And it’s why I sometimes (and maybe you can relate) fall into the trap of thinking others are worthy of decency but I am not… because am I really worth it? Do I deserve it? Have I earned it? I don’t know about you, but I really struggle to love myself. I bend over backwards to not let my health become a wrecking ball in other people’s lives, but kinetic energy exists apparently and pendulums always swing back to where they started. In fact, I have something I mutter to myself whenever I mess up: “You can’t hate me more than I hate myself.” And, well, that’s something I’m trying to work through (saving that ish for therapy one day!) because I know I deserve a more gentle inner voice.
So, if any of this resonates, I pose these reflection questions: Do you believe in your advice in the first place? Are you giving it out of obligation? Or is it advice you so desperately want to adopt and implement in your own life but there’s something below the surface telling you to push through without it? When was the last time you showed yourself kindness and made room for mistakes? Who told you that you have to be perfect? Because you don’t. Full stop. Double standards are a poison.
Got a question you want to ask us? Reply to this email or DM us on Substack — we’ll keep your identity anonymous! P.S. Our really professional lawyers (they wear pantsuits and everything) tell us we can’t dispense any kind of medical advice to the public, but we appreciate you thinking we could even do that in the first place. You’re a real one.
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I think this is the reason why the advice of "what would you tell a friend" exists. I think it's so natural that we have an easier time seeing the best/right next step or mindset, etc. when it's for someone else, then it is for ourselves. I think that everyone's reason for being harsher on themselves might be different, but that it's pretty universal (and we're all shy to admit how nasty we can be in our heads, when we talk to ourselves).