On Not Writing Enough, a Happy Relationship, and the Constant Work of Weight

February 20, 2023 by Kylee Lessard in Nourish, Outer

Editor’s note: I wrote this post in May 2020, but never published it. It didn’t feel like the right time to share that I’d met the love of my life and was happier than I’d been in recent memory. I stumbled upon the post this weekend and, interestingly, the themes reflected in it are largely the themes of my life at this very moment. Oh how much can change - and not change - in three years. I hope you’ll humor (and enjoy) a very late, but still timely, post of this nature.

I’ve been reading Roxanne Gay’s “Bad Feminist” for a few weeks now, and its giving me all kinds of feels. One of those feelings is a new revelry and appreciation for personal vulnerability in the written word. Gay does an incredible job composing short, narrative-driven essays on her everyday experience as a black woman and what it’s like to experience life through that lens and that body. As a writer myself, it's inspiring to see someone so plainly accomplish what I hope to do with my writing: make people feel less alone by sharing my honest experiences, trials and tribulations alike.

I feel like I go in and out of my ability to do this well. I waver between wanting a blog that is deeply honest and almost painfully real, to fearing what that could mean to my day job or what could happen if my words fell uncontextualized in the hands of the right internet troll. Writing for the world’s eyes raises the stakes for those of us who like to wear their heart on their sleeve. You can tell Gay knows this, even as she reveals to her readers the deeply personal shame she harbors for experiences like social loneliness, carrying excess weight, and a traumatic past sexual assault.

As with so many paradoxes in her book, Gay acknowledges the tension of wanting to be vulnerable and the consequences of revealing too much, and then moves forward anyway. I appreciate what she does to make space for seemingly opposite emotions or actions or thoughts. She brings the yin and the yang of reality to the modern experience of feminism, and to me, it reads as a mindful, balanced, and pragmatic approach to what the experience of being human is: full of contradictions that often all need to be felt and processed at the same time. It reminds me of a positive psych quote I once read in an interview with an NYU professor, in which he states:

“Positive psychology explores and nurtures the 0 through +10, the qualities and behaviors that make people thrive. These processes can occur simultaneously, because people suffer and thrive at the same time.”

I’m finding that the way Gay views the world and subsequently writes is very much in line with core principles of positive psychology. At the end of each of her essays, I’m left feeling moved by the inequities she describes, connected to her as a human, and inspired to share more of my vulnerable realities. So that’s what I’d like to do here: write about where I’m at today, with no agenda other than connection.

///contentment + creativity///

I’ve been thinking alot about how I’d like to write more, but don't. And I think my most recent roadblock to writing has been around not really knowing what to say. I feel like I’ve drifted away from positive psychology in the last few months, because - dare I say it - I’ve been really happy. I’m in a new relationship that feels healthy and mutual in a way that I’ve never experienced; we’re on the same page about 99% of topics, infatuated with one another, and laughing all the time. We’ve been meeting each other’s friends and family (albeit slowly, and at a distance), and getting the thumbs up from all parties. We’ve been having important conversations about our values and what we want for our futures. Every conversation feels like we’re playing a successful game of Monopoly (“Advance to Go, collect $200”).

One of the ways that we align is a mutual love of self reflection and improvement. Ty recently started an intention setting and nightly journaling practice via a customized Google Form that he has sent to his email at 5am and 8pm daily. We’ve been honing it together to ensure that it includes some key aspects of positive psychology principles, like Seligman’s five measures of well being. Ultimately, it may be something we start offering other people as a tool to increase their daily mindfulness practice! Would you be interested in something like this? Let me know in the comments. I’d love to send you a free sample of what we’ve created.

I’m really excited about this relationship and how it's already helping me live more in accordance with my core values of mindfulness, positivity, and connection. There is so much good in my life right now beyond it, too. I live with one of my very best friends, who has been an invaluable source of support and laughter and connection during quarantine. I am finding deep growth and satisfaction in my career progression after recently being thrust to the helm of a major product launch and figuring out how to navigate it with a semblance of success and grace.

I’ve been spending copious amounts of time outside, in the San Francisco sunshine, getting a tan and seeing coworkers and friends from a distance on park dates. I’ve never felt “trapped” in my home, thanks to San Francisco’s general lenience during lockdown. I go on 2-3 walks per day. I am healthy. My friends and family are healthy. Life doesn’t feel scary anymore, just different. But I’ve been able to accept it. I’m lucky, certainly. Nothing big has changed for me, aside from the major addition of a certain special someone. And with that occupying a lot of my time and brain space in a really positive way, it seems like my brain is less occupied with the problem of spreading global well being. I guess it just seems like less of a problem when it’s not my problem specifically.

///the constant work of weight///

But truth be told, I’m still struggling with my own relative “challenges.” One is that my weight has continued to creep up and up since the beginning of lockdown, and I’ve felt fairly powerless in my ability to control the creep, let alone send it wheeling backwards. I’ll be the first to admit that weight loss outside of the context of severe anxiety / depression is unknown to me. I am not someone who feels they have a lot of self efficacy in that department. Weight loss has “happened to me” a few times in life in a major way, both occasions spurred by painful breakups and deep professional angst - not the sweat and willpower of weight loss influencers.

One thing I know I’m good at is building strong habits to maintain a given lifestyle. I’ve been trying to rely on the healthy lifestyle habits that I’ve proudly built over the last few years to keep my weight in a place that feels acceptable to me, but lockdown has thrown them all for a loop.

First, there was the daily grip of anxiety at the ever-changing local politics of coronavirus implications. Food became something I had to start buying and preparing for myself in far greater quantities than usual. It also felt like one of few things I could control. Then there was the stress associated with the new role I found myself in at work, leading a major product launch for a VIP (Very Important Product) at the company.

Food was uncomplicated, instantly rewarding, and an enjoyable break from the unenjoyable barrage of emails, pings and to-do’s. Then there was the boredom and lack of daily variety that comes with working two feet away from the place you sleep and relax “after” work. Food became a source of fun and stimulation to replace daily interactions with coworkers and feeling good about how I presented myself in the office each day.

And let’s be honest, nothing is realer than love chub. Making dinners together, sharing a bottle of wine whenever one is opened, and delighting in indulgences together is something that comes with new relationship territory. It comes with happiness in general. Food is such a simple pleasure and celebration of the richness of life. I think it’s ok that we use it this way, ok that we want to be mindful of how and when we use it this way, and figure out how to fit that use case for food into a balanced experience that doesn't leave you feeling heavier than you’re happy with.

But nonetheless, I struggle with accepting this truth and feel like I’m in a constant fight with my own mind over how acceptable it is to allow this sort of relationship with food.

In so many ways, I’ve always felt like this might be my greatest shortcoming as a feminist, this lifelong all-consuming preoccupation with my weight and appearance. It infuriates me how women’s worth in society at large continues to be predicated on her fitting into a narrow range of beauty ideals, pushing her to dither away broad swaths of her life to weight loss efforts, time-consuming haircuts and dye-jobs, expensive makeup, painful waxing procedures, a ridiculous assortment of ever-changing “fashionable” clothing. But I continue to participate in and perpetuate the problem, because as much as I want to be part of the change, I also want to be accepted and loved in the world today.

It’s okay to hold space for two opposite feelings. It’s okay to be imperfect. It’s okay to be human and flawed and aware of those flaws and working on those flaws, even if it takes your whole life. And I think Gay would back me up here.

How I Finally Cut Back on Drinking (+ Tips To Get You There, Too)

February 05, 2023 by Kylee Lessard in Nourish

Editor’s note: This article is part of a four-part series on the author’s relationship with alcohol, with all three articles scheduled for release in “Dry January” 2023. If you haven’t yet, consider reading the first, second, and third posts in the series.

The path to a semi-abusive relationship with alcohol is long and meandering. Most people won’t find the journey comparable on the way back. To cut back, I’ve had to be very intentional about redirecting this relationship. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about and working on this area, so I’m excited to share the advice, frameworks, and tools I’ve picked up along the way.

My tips to cut back on or stop drinking

If and when you’re ready, here’s what helped me:

Figure out if you have a “problem”

2022 was the first year since maybe 2008 that I did not once drink “too much,” or to a point that I regretted the amount the next day. No black outs, no nasty hangovers, no shame monster. It might not seem like much from the outside, but for me, it was the first time in 14 years of problematic drinking. And most of those years, I would have considered myself exceedingly normal. After a particularly “big” night out, I would laugh with my friends about the idiotic things I/we had done and become a puddle of shame and anxiety in bed at night, fully believing this was just what young adulthood was about.

If you’re wondering whether your habits could be considered problematic, try asking yourself the following questions. In the past year, have you…

Had times when you ended up drinking more or longer than you intended?
More than once wanted to cut down or stop drinking, or tried to, but couldn’t?
Spent a lot of time drinking or being sick or getting over the aftereffects?
Wanted a drink so badly you couldn’t think of anything else?

TL;DR: Regretting how much you drank or your decisions around drinking might be “normal” in some social circles, but it is never “healthy.” If this is more than an occasional occurrence for you, it may signal that there’s work to be done on your relationship with alcohol.

Quantify and benchmark your drinking habits

Building awareness is a powerful tool for behavior change, and using a "drink counter" app or practice is a great place to start when it comes to drinking. The Reframe app, for example, offers a neuroscience-based approach to reducing drinking and improving mental health (much like the weight loss app Noom, if you’ve ever heard of it).

When I signed up for the app last January, I was asked to set a goal for my weekly number of drinks. I had no idea what a healthy or acceptable goal would be, having mostly grown up hearing about the risks of binge drinking vs. learning what healthy moderation looked like. I decided I’d start by becoming "average.” If I’m being honest, I just wanted to know how many drinks I could "get away with" according to science.

I put the question to Google and was blown away. According to a 2021 Gallup article, American adults have, on average, just 3.6 drinks per week. This includes the 34% who say they had no drinks in the past week, 52% who say they had between one and seven, and 13% who say they had eight or more. Considering a normal week for me includes a few social drinks on the weekdays and then a compulsory 1-3 on each weekend night, I am easily part of the top 13% of drinkers.

(Sidebar: I literally didn't believe that so many people just…didn't drink at all, so I spent extensive time validating this. Multiple studies confirm the data, including a recent Behavioral Risk Factor Surveillance System report and quiz/article from The New York Times. It’s a great quiz, btw, you should take it!)

Gallup data from 1941 to 2021, showing a consistent trend of 30-40% of Americans abstaining from alcohol completely.

Here’s something that might explain why I or my peer group think drinking is so normal: According to a 2021 article by Gallup, you’re more likely to drink if you’re a man, 35-54, a college grad, and don’t identify as religious. Binge drinking in the US is also most prevalent in white populations, mid-westerners, and households making over $75K. Putting all my “risk factors” together, I have four of the seven, which likely explains why I’m exposed to more drinking than the average American. BUT. Instead of assuming that’s just the way things are, I can be intentional about which segment of the population I’d like to fall into. There’s choice in this data.

TL;DR: It’s common to both abstain from alcohol and drink very moderately. The majority of American adults have about 4 drinks per week. It’s considered “excessive drinking” when you have more than 1-2 drinks in a sitting, and “binge drinking” every time you have more than 4-5.

Investigate your beliefs about drinking

Another tool that helped me cut back on drinking was a book I was assigned as part of my Inner MBA coursework, called “Immunity to Change.” The book rests on an admittedly-strange premise that the body has a “psychological immune system” that intentionally resists change in one’s life, because the way you’ve always done things has kept you alive to date.

The book leads you through a process developed by social scientists to help you name and debunk the hidden commitments, fears, and assumptions that are working against your goals, whether it be a change you want to make at work, to your waistline, or in the world. One of my big breakthroughs is that I associate drinking with a “fun” and “rich” life, one that makes me happy, interesting, and likable. I’ve shared the map that I completed during my coursework below, with the goal of shifting my lifestyle to be more in line with my health goals.

Identifying certain beliefs about why I drink in my “immunity to change” map helped me change the way I think and, therefore, behave.

Second, the aforementioned Reframe app was invaluable for re-shaping my beliefs about alcohol. Each day, you complete a handful of short lessons, check-ins, and activities that bring mindfulness and education to your consumption habits. The lessons cover everything from the severe health impacts of alcohol to the media’s role in driving drinking habits globally. It’s easy to think that you’ve heard this all before, but trust me; learning about how alcohol is accelerating your skin’s aging process and fucking up your sleep hits different when you’re not a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed teen anymore.

Finally, while I certainly never believed that my drinking habits were good for my health, it has been well worth my time to re-acquaint myself with just how utterly terrible alcohol is for your productivity, mental health, and physical wellbeing. Reframe has a number of lessons on this topic. Books like Holly Whittaker’s “Quit Like a Woman” and a particular podcast from professor/neuroscientist Dr. Andrew Huberman “What Alcohol Does to Your Body, Brain & Health” shook me to my core. I published a recent post with all of the evidence that finally convinced me to cut back on drinking, if you’re interested in going down the rabbit hole.

TL;DR: Revisit the facts of just how bad alcohol is for the body, brain, and society. Consider doing some deep excavation of your beliefs around alcohol, either with the “Immunity to Change” map, a therapist, or trained coach.

Cultivate a community of moderates or non-drinkers

There’s that trite, but true, saying: You’re the combination of the five people you spend the most time with. If the five people around you are heavy drinkers, you’re going to have to either bring them along on your journey, or consider surrounding yourself with different people.

Friends

With how important your community is to your thoughts and behaviors, you can (and should) choose and re-choose it over your lifetime. There’s a lot of deeply biological pack psychology we have to override when we actively choose to do something our people aren't already doing. It takes a lot of courage. The best advice I can offer you is to identify your most authentic self and put him/her out there, seek out spaces that align with your values, and consciously curate a community of people who have similar goals and worldviews. I’ve made huge strides in my relationship with alcohol by prioritizing time with friends who also want to reduce their consumption, try alternative lifestyles or hobbies, and allow me to connect deeply without alcohol.

Partner

There’s also the matter of who you choose to partner with. Out of college, I dated two guys who had troubling relationships with alcohol. Today, I’m with a partner who got over the party scene in high school and is more interested in his health than anything alcohol has to offer. Now that we live together, the importance of that influence on my daily habits and decisions cannot be overstated. Having a built-in partner and accountability buddy for things like Dry January makes going booze-free so much easier than going it alone.

Digital spaces

It has surprised me how much it helps my pack-animal brain to know that there’s a massive global community of sober curious individuals, even if I’ll never meet them IRL. In particular, I’ve really liked following the #sobercurious feed on Instagram and popping into the anonymous community forum in the Reframe app. In both, I’ve witnessed people sharing deeply personal hardships and milestones in their alcohol recovery journey and other people meeting them with authentic support and kindness of the likes I’ve never witnessed on the internet. Hearing how other people have shifted their beliefs and behaviors around alcohol is regularly moving and inspiring. Expose yourself to these communities if you can.

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TL;DR: See if you can enlist the closest people around you to a new approach to alcohol. If not, bolster your community with more like minded friends. You are the sum of the five people you spend the most time with.

Find alternatives to drinking

Not go out on Friday and Saturday night? I literally couldn't wrap my head around the thought five years ago. Occasionally, I’d relish the opportunity to stay in with a boyfriend or bestie, especially if I was hungover from the night before. But snipping the weekend bar circuit from my routine completely was unthinkable.

Flash forward to today, where I can't remember the last time I “went out” in my weekly routine. Instead of meeting up with friends at a pregame or a bar, I make plans at The Center SF, a yoga studio/tea house/event space dedicated to alcohol-free gatherings. These spaces are popping up all over major cities in the US. With friends, I’ve gone to their open mic night, group meditation, and an ecstatic dance party. On my own, I’ve organized a non-alcoholic beverage tasting party and started making more mocktails at home. While most branded alternatives on the market are overpriced & disappointing, I do recommend Ghai, Mocktail Club, Tost, and regular old kombucha in a wine glass. If you’re out at a bar, ordering a soda water with bitters and lime is my fail-proof routine.

Some other ideas: Take a breathwork class. Plan an outdoorsy vacation to a national park instead of a foodie trip to a city or wine country. Join a yoga studio and become part of its community. Try different meditation apps until you find one that’s your vibe. Treat yourself to a massage or a manicure instead of a glass of wine. Meet up with friends at the park instead of the bar. It’s well within your power to seek out activities and experiences that aren’t centered on alcohol; it just requires a little intention and forethought.

TL;DR: Alcohol isn’t the only way to have fun and celebrate the richness of life. Seek out alcohol-free spaces and activities. Swap a boozy beverage for a mocktail.

Invest in a life you don’t need to escape from

For me, drinking was compelling from day one because it provided temporary relief from the chaotic inner life of being a teenager. I was deeply insecure; alcohol made me forget those feelings. To be clear, I’ve never had a bad life. But I haven’t always had an excellent relationship with myself, and I now believe the nature of my inner life to be an important factor in my propensity to drink.

One framework that’s helped me craft a full and satisfying life is the PERMA-V model. It’s foundational in the positive psychology world, and one that I’m writing about monthly in a new newsletter called Blue Sky Five. Each letter stands for an important aspect of human flourishing. Below, I’ve shared some of the ways I regularly meet my PERMA needs today:

Positive emotion: candles, ice cream, massages, funny TikTok videos, snuggles
Engagement: reading, writing, tennis, dance, cooking
Relationships: asking deep questions, cultivating intentional community
Meaning: blogging, journaling, therapy, life coaching, meditation
Accomplishment: work, publishing new content, courses, setting & achieving goals
Vitality: quality sleep, whole foods, daily movement, stress reduction practices

Another important angle to consider here is what’s not working for you. Whittaker shared a compelling quote from author Allen Carr, in which he suggests that “everything we can do drunk we can also do sober, and that we don’t have fun because of alcohol, we have fun because of what we are doing and who we are with.” Her takeaway: If we need to drink to do something, we probably shouldn’t be doing it anyway.

TL;DR: Determine the things that bring you pleasure, comfort, and joy without alcohol, and focus on your own flourishing. Ask yourself what you’d stop doing in your life if you couldn’t drink while doing it. Then maybe just stop doing it :)

In closing

I’m not sober, but I feel like a veil has been lifted on my relationship with alcohol. I no longer blindly accept that “more alcohol is always better,” or that “with alcohol” is better than “without.” I follow sober people and #sobercurious on social and regularly read about its negative effects, yet still imbibe socially. These days, I’m more likely to have 2-3 drinks 2-3 nights a week. Sure, that’s still well over what’s considered “healthy,” but I am aware of this risk and generally decreasing my consumption year over year. I strive for no more than 7 drinks per week, but I don’t beat myself up if I have more. I’m only human, and alcohol is a socially-supported drug, after all.

There are things I’m still working on. I still grapple with the deeply ingrained belief that drinking and partying = fun. A big part of the journey I’m on now is retraining myself to fully believe that I can have a rich and whole life without “going out” culture.

You don’t have to go cold turkey either. In another gem, author Holly Whittaker advises us to “know the difference between things that might not be great for you, and things that take you down and keep you stuck and bring out your worst and get in the way of your best life.” For me, my prior drinking habits left me with hangovers that wracked my body and anxiety so intense I could feel the icy hot heat of it thrum through my body for hours before getting out of bed in the morning. Now, I enjoy a few drinks. I might not get the best sleep of my life, and I might get a canker sore from the acidity of too much wine, but I don't do or say things I regret. There’s a big difference.

Start by practicing sobriety, as if you’re building a new muscle. Turn down a 3rd drink at dinner or happy hour this week. Opt for a mocktail every other round. Try spending a Friday night out totally sober. These aren't meant to be punishments, just curious learning opportunities to start pushing your self-concept of what’s possible.

I predict that alcohol is headed the way of cigarettes. Already, the same Gallup poll I mentioned above is showing that rates of total abstinence from alcohol are increasing, and the number of drinks consumed per week by those who do imbibe is shrinking, as well. With more people practicing sobriety across every social demographic, there’s never been a better time to investigate your own relationship with alcohol.

If you like content like this, subscribe to Blue Sky Mind’s email newsletter. Or, if you’d like to build a more personal relationship, follow Blue Sky Mind on Instagram.

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Why It’s So Hard (For Me) to Quit Drinking

January 24, 2023 by Kylee Lessard in Nourish

I try not to be mad at myself. I know how bad drinking is for my body, mind, and culture; check out my last post if you’re not yet convinced of the same. And yet, I’m not ready to give it up. Why is that? Is that problematic? Let’s soul search together.

Why is it so hard to quit drinking?

Even when you start to grasp the destructive effects of alcohol on the body and your community, it’s still so hard to pull the plug on the habit. From what I’ve gathered, here’s why:

Alcohol is acceptable. Unlike cigarettes or marijuana, consumption of alcohol is widely normalized and accepted as a regular or occasional habit of a healthy adult. We're constantly bombarded with messages telling us that drinking is the key to a good time. Whether it's a sexy ad for Smirnoff or Euphoria showing pretty young people partying and drinking, we’ve been thoroughly impressed with the notion that drinking is just what (cool) people do.
Alcohol is accessible. For anyone over the age of 21, alcohol is available for purchase in stores, restaurants, bars, clubs, sporting events, musical performances, airports, airplanes, trains. It’s served at every social function, work event, and milestone celebration. We’re trained to reach for it at every celebration, bad day, or moment of leisure.
Alcohol is addictive. When you take your first sip of alcohol, your brain releases a neurotransmitter called dopamine, which gives you a feeling of pleasure. This encourages you to keep drinking, as you're seeking out that pleasurable feeling. Over time, your brain becomes dependent on alcohol to release dopamine, and you need to drink more and more to get the same effect. This can lead to addiction. As Holly Whitaker, author of Quit Like a Woman, puts it: “Alcohol is much cheaper and more readily available than mental healthcare.”

How I became the drinker I am today

Let’s look at how these three factors have played out in my own life. I grew up on a steady stream of hyper-feminized media that reinforced gender norms for my sex and filled my head with ideas about what “the good life” would look like for a cis, white, middle-class girl like myself. Think Legally Blonde, MTV, Gossip Girl. Somewhere along the way, it became desperately important for me to be thin, to have a cute and doting boyfriend, to be invited to things the cool kids were doing. I wanted to be the cool girl on TV, and the cool girl on TV went to parties, drank, hooked up with boys. She was always thin. When it came time to choose a place to go to college, I made sure the school I went to offered not just a top tier education, but a top tier good time, too.

I can imagine this attracts a large crowd to university Greek systems all over the US, and that’s exactly where I wanted to be my freshman year of college. I rushed and joined a sorority where I made the best friends of my life, but also embedded myself into a culture of glorified alcoholism. Upon graduation, I was thrust into yet another fully sanctioned space of excessive consumption: the corporate world and “happy hour” culture. My first job out of college was as an assistant to the director of an advertising sales department at a major media organization. The basis of her job was to attend meetings with important clients and solidify the business relationship. My job was to book the lunches or dinners or events and tag along to make sure everything went as planned. I was quickly introduced to the wonders of a corporate card, and the number of bottles of wine that can be classily consumed under its guise. That’s just the cost of doing business, right?

At this time in my life, I’d struggled with controlling my drinking at times, but I never worried that I was too far off from my peers. I remember walking into a therapist’s office when I was maybe 24, with the intention of getting help with my then-toxic and borderline-abusive relationship. When the conversation shifted to my drinking habits, I felt judged and offended when the therapist (rightly) implied that I was exhibiting symptoms of alcoholism. I scoffed at the 60-year old woman. Even with her PhD in psychotherapy and 30+ years of clinical practice, she couldn't possibly understand that my behavior was normal and justified within the context of my friends and the post-grad, big-city life. At the time, I wrote her off as “out of touch” and started looking for another therapist. I can't think of a stronger illustration for my overriding belief that my drinking behavior in high school, college, and post-grad years was “normal” and that “everyone was doing it.”

Because yeah, my friends like to drink! It should come as no surprise that I’ve gravitated toward people who behave like me over the years. You might even argue that I’ve gravitated toward people who will enable and encourage my drinking behaviors. Either way, most of my closest friends from college onwards have enjoyed drinking socially and some have even struggled with their own relationship to alcohol. There’s that saying: you are the five people you spend the most time with. If your top five is drinking, more than likely, so are you.

Giving ourselves grace

I try not to be too hard on myself. Our pliable little child minds grow up surrounded by messages that alcohol is the accompaniment to every situation. The minute you turn 21, and often years prior, alcohol is one of the most widely accessible products in the US. And having a few drinks makes our brain feel really good. So good that our brain craves that feeling when it’s gone.

It’s no wonder that I grew up and sought out places where drinking was prominent, where I made other friends who’d sought out similar experiences, and we drank a lot together, which normalized the habit for me. I see how I got here.

But how I got here won't help me get where I need to go, which is to get my drinking down to a healthy and sustainable level. I’ve learned a lot in the last few years; that’s coming up in my next post.

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