Inside (Looking) Out

#ThoughtHealing Quote for the Week: “You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” Harper Lee, “To Kill A Mockingbird”

I got a copy of my sister’s death certificate yesterday. Near the bottom, in box 25, “Immediate Cause,” there was space for up to four causes of death, preceded by this explanation: “Conditions if any which gave rise to immediate cause stating the underlying cause last.” Unfortunately, although not surprisingly, all four lines had an entry.

The first three were Cardiopulmonary Arrest, Acute Respiratory Failure, Severe Pulmonary Hypertension. No surprises here; Colleen had been diagnosed with Emphysema many years ago, and Severe Pulmonary Hypertension is often a result of this condition.

Then I noticed the last one, the one that the death certificate described as the underlying cause: Obesity-hypoventilation Syndrome. And I thought, “So, there it is, Colleen, you were right. Once again, it all comes down to your weight.”

Anne Lamott said, “Everyone is walking around as an advertisement for who he or she is.”

This bothers me. I want to argue with it, but I can’t. My own experience, and more importantly, that of my family, won’t allow me to.

Colleen used to joke about how people perceived her. You see, not only was she obese, she also had just two teeth. She’d say, “I know what people are thinking when they look at me: backwoods hillbilly who married her first cousin.” She also joked about her former cocaine use. She used to say, “It figures—everyone else who used cocaine looked like swizzle sticks, but what happened to me? I was probably the only overweight cocaine user on the planet.” (I would try to comfort her by pointing out that I was probably the only person who owned overweight GSDs in Colorado. Somehow, I don’t think this took much of the sting—or the stigma—away.)

When my oldest sister (now also passed) was in the middle of job hunting, she asked me to help her write her resume, which was very impressive, and cover letter. Job hunting is an experience that I know from recent personal experience is difficult in the best of circumstances.

As we were finishing up, she asked me this question: “Should I mention something about how I look in my cover letter?” This puzzled me. We all know the unwritten rules of writing resumes when you are “of a certain age”: never mention your age, when you graduated from college, your martial status, how many children you have—all of these can be off-putting to a hiring manager. But I hadn’t even thought about this before, and so I asked her why.

“Because whenever I get an actual face-to-face interview,” she replied matter of factly, “They take one look at me and I know I won’t get the job, no matter how qualified I am. So maybe I could mention that, despite my physical appearance, I’m capable, loyal, and dependable. And I’m healthy, no matter what they might think about how I look.”

You see, my sister was all of these things and more: capable, loyal, dependable, brilliant, beautiful—and she weighed over 300 pounds.

As it turned out, she didn’t include this in her cover letter, but she also didn’t get a face-to-face interview, so perhaps it would have been a moot point.

But I don’t think so. In fact, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have gotten the job.

Everyone has heard this well-worn statement by George Orwell (and its countless renderings for every condition under the sun), “I'm fat, but I'm thin inside... there's a thin man inside every fat man.”

I never asked either of my sisters whether they had thin alter egos. Whether it bothered them that what they were on the inside—kind, compassionate, gentle, forgiving—didn’t match what people chose to see on the outside. That, in fact, most people dismissed them entirely, or, even more reprehensible but still noticeable, that people were repelled by them.

I mean, think about it: you’re on a plane getting ready to depart. There’s an empty seat next to you—and a very large person coming down the aisle. Quick—what’s your first thought? “Please, oh please, don’t sit here.” It’s a common reaction. I’d be lying if I said I never had that thought myself.

But I’d also be lying if I didn’t point out how obvious our “don’t sit here” aversion is to the very large person coming down the aisle.

I know—because, like my sisters, I used to be one of those very large people, too.

“There are things visible and invisible,” Rumer Godden said.

It’s so easy to size someone up just by looking at what is visible—their size, their age, their gender, their height, the color of their hair. And maybe, for some, the outside matches the inside, their thin person has escaped and is now visible to the world.

But I suspect that, for most of us, there is something invisible inside each of us that has not yet been allowed to be seen. And what might it take for us to look past the visible in order to catch even a glimpse of what might be just below the surface, but so much more real.

Think about it!

And, as always, remember this: It’s never too late to be what you might have been!

Want to know more about transforming limited thoughts and beliefs into limitless possibilities? Check out my Examine–Envision–Emerge Personal Transformation Book Series. Each book explores a particular aspect of thought healing. Find yours online at your favorite retailer today!