We have a choice in the stories we tell ourselves. We don't have choice about the facts, we have choice about our organization, our perspective, and the narrative we create around them.
~ Guy Winch
Well into the second decade of my life, there was no couch in our house, not even when we emigrated to Canada (1971) and bought a home here (mid-70s).
In the remote Portuguese island where I spent the first ten years of my life, the kitchen was where we all gathered.
Other than a radio, there were no electornics in the house. No telephone. No television. There was a wood-fired oven. No car. We walked everywhere.
Life was busy. There were lots of chores to do. We ate what we raised and harvested - three simple meals per day. No snacks. We never ate out.
Clothes were hand-washed and hung out to dry.
The toilet was outdoors - no toilet paper or kleenex.
Mattresses were stuffed with corn husks or hay. Making the bed required fluffing up the stuffing.
Physical activity was naturally built into our lives.
Men were seldom around. They were praised for working hard to provide food and shelter for their families. They were not involved in child-rearing activities.
Women were celebrated for their culinary and other domestic skills. They did not wear makeup, go to the gym or the spa. While my mother took great pride in our appearance, she made little effort to adorn herself.
We've come a long way taking for granted things like indoor plumbing that even kings and queens didn’t have only a century ago.
Why am I retelling this story?
If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive.
~ Brené Brown
I was inspired to write this after finishing Dr Peter Attia’s book, Outlive, The Science and Art of Longevity.
Attia was born and raised in Toronto to parents who were Coptic Christian Egyptian immigrants.
He graduated from Queen's University with a degree in mechanical engineering and applied mathematics. He then went to the Stanford School of Medicine to become a medical doctor. He is an accomplished athlete.
I have been following his work for almost a decade in awe of his accomplishments and effort to empower people with the knowledge to take control of their health.
More recently however, I became uncomfortable with his tone and some of his longevity hacks. It took me a while to get to his book.
Adversity in childhood, which left him feeling insufficient, drove him to focus on résumé virtues, the skills we bring to the marketplace.
Like me he felt like a fish out of water growing up in Toronto. Although he does not disclose in the book, he has admitted cultural differences made him feel insufficient. He had a childhood wound of shame for which he sought honour to mend.
Back to the couch, I remember feeling ashamed about hosting friends in Canada because unlike them we had no family or rec room. Lame as it may sound, like Peter Attia, I just wanted to fit in.
I have come to be grateful for my heritage and the perceived challenges of my youth.
In the last chapter of Outlive, a book that focuses on the physical aspects of wellness, Attia shares personal stories of how the rage that has plagued him had him come very close to losing his family.
Fortunately, he has good friends, like psychiatrist Dr Paul Conti, who encouraged him to seek help. He was discouraged from including this chapter in the book but recognized it's worth - the power of vulnerability.
Awareness helps create change
Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.
~ Shannon Alder
Dr Attia has learned that a life without healthy relationships is not worth elongating.
He now finds himself working on his eulogy virtues - characteristics shared by loved ones at a funeral. I look forward to learning and sharing more about his growth and transformation.
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