Or the woman I saw who was alcoholic. It took her years to finally show up at my doorstep asking for help, because she was afraid to face the fact that she had an illness.
Then there's the woman I saw with breast cancer. She knew for two years she had a mass that was growing in her breast, but it took her even longer to come to see me because she was afraid to hear the word "cancer."
There's a funny thing about getting well. In order to heal, we first have to admit that we are sick. An Indian yogi once said, "In order to solve a problem, first we must let it expand." That may sound basic, but we all know there is a big difference between talking about something and actually doing it. And when faced with the challenge of admitting a weakness, I think it is very human to want to hide instead.
Part of the problem, of course, is that many of us think that in order to be lovable, we have to be perfect. We often judge ourselves with a much harsher eye than even the toughest critic would. So it's only natural to worry that when we admit our deepest wounds, we are going to be slammed with a death sentence.
The irony is that many people discover that when they finally open up, others do, too. It's as though we give each other permission to be human. That experience can be one of the most powerful bonding forces in the universe. Support groups, deep friendships and loving marriages all thrive on that form of sharing.
There is something very freeing about sharing our weaknesses in a supportive, safe environment. When we can admit our deepest fears, see that we are loved despite them — and that everyone else has deep, dark fears, too — then we realize there is nothing to hide. We are all wounded. There is no perfect "normal" someone out there who has it all together.
The main thing is to realize it, and to stop feeling embarrassed about your hairy legs, your alcoholic brother or your anxiety. Show up, stop pretending and forgive yourself for all the times you did or didn't act the way you thought you were supposed to. Then we can all get on with the business of healing ourselves.
Dr. Astrid Pujari is a Seattle M.D. with an additional degree as a medical herbalist; she practices at the Pujari Center and teaches as part of the residency programs at Virginia Mason and Swedish/Cherry Hill hospitals. Send questions to apujari@seattletimes.com for possible use in future columns. All information is intended for education and not a substitute for medical advice. Consult your doctor before following any suggestions given here.
