Tag Archives: life

The Best of Times … the Worst of Times: Real Life in the Age of Social Media

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities,

Dickens’ well-known quote reflects the contradictory nature of the era it describes, the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution, where societal extremes of wisdom and foolishness, belief and doubt, and hope and despair coexisted. The phrase is often used today to describe any period of conflicting circumstances, where seemingly opposite conditions exist simultaneously. 

Dickens captured an era riven by contradiction—one that is strikingly familiar in our decaying, digital age. Today, we move through a world that offers extraordinary access, unprecedented connectivity, and boundless opportunities for expression. Yet those same spaces are shaped by curated identities, algorithm-fed anxieties, and an ever-growing sense of distance among people who are, paradoxically, more connected than ever.

The fears, insecurities and cowardice which define the essence of keyboard warriors have come to define their very lives. And pushes them even further from humanity.

It Was the Best of Times: The Goodness of Real Life

Real life … messy, unpredictable and intimate remains the realm where meaning truly accrues and matters.

When I am out in public, be it the local dog park, a mixed-use shopping retail development, restaurants, the courthouse, bars, going for walks, I interact with people from all walks of life. Men, women, numerous races and ages. Each time, there is laughter, discussions centered on our families, our pets, the holidays, our health, the beauty of the day. I have dear friends from both ends of the political spectrum. We socialize, party together, laugh together.

In real life, conversations are not filtered through screens or stripped of tone and nuance. A friend’s laughter, the warmth of a handshake, the look in someone’s eyes when they understand you … these moments carry a weight no number of “likes” can replicate. Human relationships deepen through vulnerability, shared experience, and presence. Real life offers the “age of wisdom,” where insight grows not from viral posts but from quiet reflection, trial and error, and authentic connection.

Real experiences ground us. They tether us to something permanent and tangible: the smell of freshly cut grass in the springtime, the scent of the Christmas tree, the chaos of family gatherings, the comfort of routines, the joy of unexpected kindness. These are the “seasons of light,” moments illuminated by genuine human engagement.

It Was the Worst of Times: The Digital Landscape of Angst and Despair

Yet we live simultaneously in a world where social media defines culture. Platforms promise connection but often deliver its hollow imitation.

To properly illustrate the decay of society, one need only understand that the financial goal of the five (5) wealthiest corporations in the United States is attained by enticing us to immerse ourselves completely in our personal devices, to remove ourselves from real life and to exist solely on social media. To isolate ourselves. To limit our face-to-face human interaction. That insures their financial success while insuring the destruction of our well-being.

Here, the “age of foolishness” reigns … where impulsive opinions eclipse thoughtful dialogue and where appearance overshadows substance. Belief contorts into echo chambers, while incredulity becomes a reflex to any idea that challenges our curated worldview. We scroll endlessly, absorbing news of tragedies, political battles, and social comparisons until the world feels saturated with crisis. Cowardice and fear are the watchwords. If you do not agree with someone’s viewpoints? You need only “block them” on social media. With a keystroke, you have eliminated intelligent discourse and the expanding of your mind.

We are inundated with political parties disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing. Promulgating the power of their own party over the needs of the Republic. Indeed, politics has become a new religion rather than an enlightened arena where we can engage in intelligent conversation with a shared goal, the well-being of our nation. Politics is now pop culture. Name calling. Inflammatory labeling. Each tribe remaining in the safety and comfort of their own echo chamber. Pundits opining that we are closer to a civil war now than at any time since the end of the Civil War.

There is the parade of angst, personal attacks, tribal entrenchment, absolutism, and fear … the very worst of our qualities.

This is the “season of darkness.” Online, despair grows quietly: the loneliness of constant comparison, the fear of missing out, the anxiety of measuring oneself against the polished illusions of others. Validation is quantified, self-worth becomes algorithmic, and interactions feel more transactional than relational.

However, when people experience “real life” and interact personally with their fellow humans, more often than not, it is our goodness which shines brightly. Not our disagreements. When pain, anxiety and fear are disclosed, it is in the context of a safe place to be shared and cared for by people who want only the best for you. It is tragic that we have unnecessarily permitted social media to diminish our human connection.

In this winter of digital despair, everything is visible, yet little feels real.

The Spring of Hope: Rekindling Humanity in a Connected Age

Despite its cold edges, social media also holds the “spring of hope.” It has connected the isolated, amplified marginalized voices, and spread information at breathtaking speed. But harnessing its good requires remembering that platforms are tools, not substitutes, for human connection.

We can reclaim the best of both worlds by grounding ourselves in real relationships while using digital spaces intentionally. Social media should supplement our lives, not consume them. It should extend community, not replace it.

Choose Light Over Darkness

Just as Dickens depicted an age torn between extremes, we too, navigate a world of contrasts. The best of times and the worst of times coexist in our hands … literally, in the glowing rectangles we carry everywhere.

The goodness of real life lies in its humanity. The manner in which our souls seek out to connect with others. The despair of social media lies in its impersonality. By choosing presence over performance, conversation over commentary, and authenticity over algorithms, we can keep the light from being swallowed by the dark.

In the end, it is up to us to determine which “season” defines our era.

Ashes Set Free

We live in a society of rules. Rules for seemingly everything. In 1925, Texas passed a law stating it was illegal to milk another person’s cow. In 1937, Minnesota passed a law prohibiting women from dressing up on public streets as Santa Claus. In 1961, Gainesville, Georgia passed an ordinance stating it was illegal to eat fried chicken with a fork. In Oklahoma, it is technically illegal to cuss in public places, in the presence of a female, or around children under the age of 10. [Which if enforced, would result in a reduction of the average Oklahoman’s verbal communications by 65%.]

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that various international, national, state and local laws exist regulating the spreading of a loved one’s ashes. It should also come as no surprise that there is a cottage industry of corporations who for a shiny dime, will plan, assist and guide you through the spreading of your loved one’s ashes.

I can only imagine Little Johnny, the Ash Scatterer in first grade. When his teacher asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, Little Johnny enthusiastically responded, “I wanna grow up and help spread my Grandpa’s ashes around the Back 40!”

In the United States, traditional burials are slowly being replaced by cremation and alternative burial or ash-scattering services. According to the 2020 NFDA Cremation & Burial Report, the cremation rate was 56%, surpassing the burial rate of only 37.5%. Cost is certainly one factor. The freedom to release the remnants of your loved one in special places, places of meaning, of meditation, of places which bring peace and comfort are certainly other reasons.

Scattering your loved one’s ashes can elicit deep emotions. In the best of circumstances this act can renew your spirit, strengthen your resolve, be a bold, ever-growing bond and a reminder of your loved one. Ashes are the last, tangible vestige of their physical presence. To leave them in places where your loved one wanted to go, or talked about, or where you had incredible shared experiences, more closely binds your souls together.

For those who know me even in passing, it should come as no surprise that I did not look up nor even consider any laws passed by international, national, state or local governments which would prohibit me from spreading the ashes of my beloved daughter, Morgan.

Morgan is now offshore near Tahiti. She became one with the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy. She is in Washington, D.C. She is a part of a peaceful brook in Kyoto, Japan. She is in the end zone of the Cotton Bowl where she and I enjoyed a number of Texas – ou rivalry games together. Off the coast of Cabo San Lucas. Joined with a shipwreck off Barbados.

And now, part of San Francisco Bay having become one with the water in Sausalito.

Morgan being Morgan of course had to have the last laugh. As I was remembering her, her laughter, her intelligence and yes, her pain, I slowly opened the small container. As she was becoming one with the water, a sudden burst of wind came up and part of her was blown back toward me! Really Morgan? Really? What the actual blue hell?

Well, that was unexpected! The solemnity of the moment being interrupted by the absurdity of wanting perfection.

Afterwards, we slowly walked down the rocky shoreline. About 10 minutes later a local fisherman hooked what appeared to be a large fish. We watched with fascination the on-going struggle. His helper grabbed a large net and when the catch materialized, it was a Stingray! About a 4-foot-wide Stingray! It wasn’t until I returned home that the timing and symbolism of this event was made clear.

Some people believe Stingrays, with their graceful underwater movements represent adaptability and inspire people to navigate life’s difficult currents. They stand for emotional harmony and the significance of preserving inner peace even in choppy waters.

Stingrays are perceptive animals that exhort us to believe in our gut feelings and inner wisdom. They teach us how to approach life’s challenges with poise as they move with grace and finesse. Aren’t those lessons universal? Certainly, I have attempted to learn some of them through Morgan, reading her journals and remembering her strength and struggles.

Poise. Grace. Finesse. Inner peace. Harmony. So easy to write. So difficult to find and embrace. So elusive. We all desire peace and harmony.

And yet, a harsh reality which frightens so many is that sometimes going to war is the only way to find and obtain those elusive qualities of peace and serenity.

But those qualities are present. Surrounding us. Within our grasp. Sometimes, it takes an Ai generated song to remind us of that which gives us strength. And hope. And resolve.

https://suno.com/s/gr86nC62zW2wJ3Mr

Passing Times, Birthdays, Grief and Morgan

Do you believe in the concept of the “circle of life”?

On this plain of existence, we come into the world on a definite day. Our birthday or name day. We leave this world on a definite day. From that perspective, life seems linear. We celebrate the first day. We mourn the last day.

Artificial intelligence software programs tell us the concept of the “circle of life” generally refers to the continuous cycle of birth, growth, death, and renewal that exists in nature. It emphasizes the interconnectedness of all living things and the idea that change is a constant and necessary part of existence. This concept is often symbolized by a circle, representing the cyclical and unending nature of life. 

And so, are we destined to learn about birth, life and death from a software program? A machine? Some black figures and letters on a white background generated by an unfeeling device of our own creation. Ironically, a device which cannot fathom nor understand the depth of the love, the depth of feelings a parent has for their child.

Those programs are designed to imitate us. They are but spectators looking in from the sidelines as we fragile, flawed creatures play the game of life. A game ironically, we cannot win. Those artificial programs cannot feel. They cannot love. They are not sentient. Those artificial programs are but hazy images reflected in our mirror of life.

They cannot understand the reality that birthdays and remembrances of the day a beloved child takes their last breath are often inextricably intertwined.

Sunday, August 10, 2025 would have been Morgan’s 32nd birthday. A day which should have brought great joy. Instead, it is a solemn reminder of she who has been taken. Only parents who have had a child taken can fathom the grief which comes from that tragedy.

Grief is like a river. It ebbs and flows. Sometimes gently bubbling, calm, peaceful. Other times cascading out of control resulting in death and destruction. Rivers change course and carve new pathways. As does grief. Grief is always there impacting parents like us. And yet, grief also effects those people around us. It is eternal.

Whether we give in to our grief, become inundated and swept away by the flood of our anguish, or whether we are able to stand strong and resolute depends not just on our individual gifts and attributes, but by the support given by our loved ones. Those in whose loving arms we find strength and hope.

Regardless, grief becomes part of our identity. It constantly shapes us into whatever result we are destined to become. And unless a person has been subjected to and endured that type of grief, one cannot possibly understand the life altering experience which results from having a child taken from you.

Often, people will look upon you as if you had not suffered that tragedy. It is easier for them that way. In looking at you, they may be feeling to a greater extent, their own destiny. All of our destinies. They cannot possibly understand the all-encompassing way it changes your identity, your very existence. Your outlook on life. Your outlook on societal and political issues. Your outlook on all issues. Who you are.

Especially since culturally we seem to be devolving into tribes defined by our feckless political parties, demanding that you remain in your own echo chamber; to close your eyes and ears to those who do not agree with you. Combine that reality with the manner in which grief has manifested itself within me and the result is daunting. And for many, frightening.

In life, Morgan was direct. She pushed boundaries. She was intelligent and creative. And she could be manipulative. She did not suffer fools gladly. She would argue with you, turn your own points against you and she knew how to exploit people’s weaknesses. Her foibles and flaws were obvious.

Should it be a surprise from whom she inherited those traits? Should it also be a surprise when those same traits in me are magnified because of the grief I suffer daily? Through memories and reminders of Morgan.

Morgan, I will not say Happy Birthday. Instead, I will say … You are a warrior. You have the heart of a lioness! Keep exploring. Keep expanding your existence.

Your soul is boundless and eternal.

Through Tragedy, We Can Find Our Soul

The forces that descended upon the Guadalupe River in Texas’ Hill Country in the very early hours of Friday, July 4, 2025, were a generational, worst-case scenario.  

Four months’ worth of rain fell in just a few hours. Water-laden thunderstorms stalled in place. When combined, this “perfect storm” gave rise to a wall of water that surged down the river in the darkness of the night. This in itself limited the number of people who could get warnings and move to higher ground.

Sunrise revealed the devastation and horror inflicted upon Texas. Summer camps along the Guadalupe River were buried under a choking tsunami of flood water. And yet, we still did not understand the extent of the tragedy to be revealed. Reports began to trickle in of people whose lives had been taken by this tragedy. Search and rescue operations conducted by numerous first responder units were shown on television and on social media. The grisly numbers began to be disclosed.

11 dead and many missing. 20 dead. 30 dead. The number kept rising just as surely as the flood waters had. The confirmed death toll reached 70 on Sunday afternoon. 90 or more on Monday morning, over 100 Monday night. Many of those found dead had not yet been identified, including children.

For the parents of the children who are still missing or have not been identified, they are existing in the worst hell imaginable. Sleep will not come to them. Their hunger is gone. A terror which can only be experienced by a parent who has had a child taken, grips their every moment. For some, it even snaps their will to live.

If ever there was a time for our nation to come together as the search continues, as hearts are broken, as souls are taken, that time would surely be now. Families are far greater and more important than any political party. The pain caused by the death of innocent children is universal. This would be the time and event which could start the path of healing. One could think that. And yet, one would be wrong.

Even as first responders and volunteers were placing their own lives in harm’s way, as a parent’s worst nightmare played out before their eyes, the social injustice, keyboard warriors, including some in the eating disorder community, began to spew forth their hate filled narrative. A narrative which gave new life to a quote widely attributed to Josef Stalin, “One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic.” Perhaps we have a tendency to feel more deeply individual losses rather than full scale tragedies. Regardless, the tsunami of political venom flowed with incredible force.

At this point, it would have been so easy to wrap oneself in righteous indignation, to call out the callous and unfeeling. To point out how people, lost in their own self-importance and identification politics, have exacerbated the pain for those families whose loss cannot be imagined.

Numerous people use social media as the vehicle to parade their ignorance. They believe that an entire segment of our society, literally millions of people are fundamentally bad because of whom they supported in the last election. As a society, we cannot allow ourselves to degenerate into this madness.

I choose to believe that people have the ability to rise above a crisis and to embrace the very best in humanity. That we can see the best in people. That when confronted with seemingly overwhelming strife, we have the ability to care the most for our fellow human beings. We hug parents who have experienced the most horrific loss possible. We honor those brave warriors who saved so many lives.

We remember. We mourn. We cry. We support those who must bear the most horrific loss possible. We feel and must remember our humanity.

In this article, I had intended to go off on those who had used this tragedy as a platform upon which to build their own destructive narrative. But then, loved ones (all 2 of them) and friends (all 3 of them) in essence stated, “Dunn, you are a f*cking loon if you do that! You will be no better than them if you do!”

They were and are … right. And I would have been so wrong. Wrong to pontificate. Wrong to inflate my views above all others. I cannot and will not, castigate others while my character flaws and faults are so prevalent and are a work in progress.

My heart goes out to those parents whose beloved children have been so cruelly taken. I know what it is like to experience that type of pain. The agonizing, soul crushing pain. But it would be so wrong to impose my own narrow views upon others. We are all unique, singular souls. And so, I mourn with you. And should any parent reach out, I will cry with you, I will hold you … you have a safe place.

And maybe, just maybe for the briefest period of time, we can escape our pain, our sorrow, our anger, our fear, through grace. And perhaps through humor. For me, Robin Williams provided that respite from heartache at least for a little while. I hope everyone can find their own goodness and love of life somewhere. Somehow.

ADDRESSING DIFFICULT TOPICS THROUGH SHARED WISDOM AND COLLABORATION

We exist in a perpetual moving cycle of life, death and rebirth. In that cycle, we may be given the opportunity to discover and if we have the wisdom, to embrace a greater understanding of ourselves. And maybe as well, we will receive a brief glimpse of our soul’s purpose on this plain of existence.

Life. Death. Rebirth.

Questioning what awaits us. Exploring the unanswerable questions of … do we have a soul? And, what awaits us after we leave this existence?

Life. Death. Rebirth.

Fewer things frighten people as much as the belief that death is the end. It is eternal. It is darkness. It is final and everlasting. For so many of us, we fear the great unknown. We do not understand it. For many of us, we do all we can to delay the inevitable. If we are bestowed with the gifts of logic, reason and wisdom, we understand that each day of life brings us closer to our last day of life.

And so, we are afraid.

Three years ago, when Dr. Jennifer Gaudiani and her colleagues wrote a paper on “Terminal Anorexia,” she brought to the forefront of our consciousness the great unknown.  Our greatest fear. Our mortal existence. When confronted with a difficult topic which is controversial or which stirs deep emotions, more often than not, people react with fear. With anger. With what they believe is righteous indignation.

I was certainly the Grand Master of that parade of indignation.  Filing complaints with medical boards. Writing scathing articles. Calling her “Dr. Death.” Certainly, the death of my beloved daughter clouded my vision on this issue. In addition, death visited me far too often in a very short time frame.  Within thirteen (13) months, my father, my mother and my older brother were all taken.

And so, my logical, reasoning brain took a holiday. This was a crusade. A righteous mission. And then, life happened.

I was afforded the opportunity to meet with Dr. Gaudiani and look her in the eyes. To ask questions. To challenge her. It was an opportunity to spew forth my views on death, and the soul, and our existence. By God my righteous indignation was going to be heard!

But inexplicably, I experienced a soul. A person in pain. A person in fear. A person who desired to be heard on this most difficult issue. And so, I listened. And learned.

And, I found a person of compassion. I also discovered that perhaps Dr. Gaudiani reasoned that what awaits us after this existence is not something to be feared but instead, is a release from pain. A new beginning. A transition to a higher level of consciousness. Bringing us one step closer to a greater understanding of our soul. A step closer to the Divine.

In the past few months I also discovered at the time the paper on “Terminal Anorexia” was being written, one of her co-authors, Dr. Joel Yager, was battling for his own life. Cancer had sunk its insidious claws into Dr. Yager. It finally claimed his life at 83 years old on December 22, 2024. Imagine if you can, that as you are fighting for your own life, as you are facing the greatest fear of all, you are contributing to this controversial issue. What incredible courage and strength that must have taken. And another life lesson was learned.

One of the more admirable qualities a person can have is the ability to look at themselves, acknowledge past mistakes, own those mistakes and then, take steps to rectify those mistakes.

That journey is so incredibly difficult. It requires a person to be vulnerable. To be open to the gift of being able to listen to learn. To her immense credit, Dr. Gaudiani did exactly that.

She reached out to people who not just strongly disagreed with her, but who sought to end her career. She hosted a summit in Denver in which persons who both agreed and disagreed with her views were granted the opportunity to state their opinions and points of view. To talk. To start a journey of greater understanding and cooperation.

Dr. Gaudiani admitted her mistakes. And desired to listen to those who disagreed with her. Those who sought collaboration.  That journey was not always smooth and trouble free. But most persons persevered. She actively sought professionals who disagreed with her views. And from those discussions and meetings, an evolution began to happen.

An evolution of not just the thinking about end of life, but an evolution of the heart. An evolution of the soul. An evolution of substance.

This past week, the Journal of Eating Disorders published an article written by Dr. Gaudiani. That article is embedded here:

https://jeatdisord.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s40337-025-01279-x

I strongly believe that had this article been written first, Dr. Gaudiani would be looked upon as a pioneer in how we care for the sickest of the sick. There is intelligence, compassion, testing boundaries, a firm, resolved commitment to her patients expressed in the article.  And it would set the foundational standard upon which intelligent discourse and future collaborative conduct could have been built.  And hopefully … that is what happens now.

There will always be those who oppose and seek to denigrate Dr. Gaudiani. Not just her viewpoints and medical opinions. But her as a person. These people tend to personalize an issue. More often than not, because their identities become the very topic at issue. The world to them is black and white. They cannot separate the professional from the opinion. And they languish in their own fear.

I still strongly oppose medical aid in dying for anorexic patients. A society struggling with how we keep alive our loved ones afflicted with this illness is light years away from being able to intelligently and compassionately implement a protocol which assists our loved ones into their next plain of existence. We know so very little about this illness. What we do know, our knowledge, wisdom and understanding have been clouded by tribal idiocy.

Dr. Gaudiani and I have communicated on a frequent basis. Our communications have gone from initially hesitant, respectful, and perhaps a bit distrustful to … sending each other family photos on holidays. Dr. Gaudiani was gracious enough to take a call from my sister who was struggling with a severe gastrointestinal issue.

Whereas I strongly believe that medical aid in dying should not be utilized for anorexia nervosa, I just as strongly believe that this topic, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, should and must be discussed among professionals. Opinions, research and experience must be shared.  We cannot possibly make progress if we are unwilling or unable to meet with fellow professionals, set aside our personal animus, and explore all options.

Finally, I believe that Dr. Gaudiani has a right to be very proud of this article. Mostly because of the substance behind the words. She has found a way to “humanize” very deep emotions and given grace and a platform to allow intelligent discussion on one of the most complex riddles which faces humankind today … our very existence.

I hope and pray that as a community, we can utilize a hopeful message as a rallying cry for unity. Society and our culture will not allow us to reach an accord on all points of disagreements.  Our fear will not allow us.

That is not important. But, collaboration, respect and giving grace. Aren’t those the qualities which bring us wisdom and insight? Aren’t those the very qualities which bring us closer to the Divine?

Father’s Day and Tribes

Yesterday was Father’s Day.

A day upon which we remember, and hopefully honor our fathers. To acknowledge their lives and their contributions to our lives. To thank them for the indelible bond they formed with us when we were children.

Fathers are our first role model.  And by that, it could mean a very good, productive, strong role model.  Or possibly … not.

Many times, our path in life is initially shaped by our fathers. This could include our chosen profession. Our outlook on love, happiness and life. Ideally, we learn how to treat and honor our future partners by observing how our father interacted and engaged with our mother.

Many times, our views on education, on work ethic, on morality, on our leisure activities are shaped by our fathers. They support us when we are down. They share in our victories and our sorrows. Being the disciplinarian when needed. And perhaps, teaching us that life is hard. That we will fail early and often. But failing is not the important thing. So long as we embrace the need to pick ourselves up after each fall, learn from it, and use that to become wiser and bolder.

Collaboration and shared parenting with our mothers cannot be understated in terms of importance. From each, we learn something different. Something important.  And without that shared perspective on life, so too our own views on life can be rendered incomplete, or biased, or less enlightened and evolved.

In fact, the evidence is overwhelming … children are more likely to thrive— behaviorally and academically, and ultimately in the labor market and adult life—if they grow up with the advantages of a two-parent home. Numerous academic studies confirm that children raised in married parent homes are less likely to get in trouble in school or with the law; they are more likely to graduate high school and college; they are more likely to have higher income and be married themselves as adults. Research suggests that boys are especially disadvantaged by the absence of dads from their homes. These facts are indisputable.

And doesn’t that pertain to everything in life? A balance in friends, in work colleagues, in associates? Differing, yet intelligent views being debated respectfully. Being open to the endless possibilities in life that are before us. Without that diversity of thought, that diversity of wisdom, the views and perspectives that our dads brought to us, views very different than that brought by our mothers, we are incomplete. We are more likely to settle back into the comfort of those who think exactly like us, act like we do, have the same viewpoints and outlook on all issues. We become tribal.

It is inevitable that one of two manifestations occur in a tribe. One, we become complacent and lazy in our thinking and exploration. We only look for circumstances which support our tribe’s beliefs. After all, we are safe within our tribe. We do not need to expand our horizons. The group mentality predominates. We are correct on all issues within our tribe. 

The second manifestation is we become warlike. Because we are right, because we believe we are just, because we believe our tribe is all powerful, because we believe our views are the absolute best for society, we must impose our views on society as a whole. After all, it is for the common good. Our tribe knows best. And society WILL comply with our views.

This is particularly true in the eating disorder community and its tribe. Now make no mistake, these are two very different groups of people.

The eating disorder community consists of those families, husbands, wives, dads, moms, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters … people who are struggling with eating disorders. Those who are doing the suffering, the living and the dying.

But what constitutes the eating disorder community tribe? This tribe largely consists of women who tend to be politically and socially very far left; extremist in their disregard of medical sciences and related objective standards and criteria; wishing to enforce their view of centering persons based on the color of their skin or the larger product of mass and gravitational force applied instead of prioritizing those who are the most gravely ill; spewing forth their ideological blather regardless of accuracy and integrity knowing that the likelihood of adverse repercussions for their misconduct and irrational belief system is inconsequential.

As for dads and this eating disorder community tribe, observation and experience teach us that for the most part, dads are verboten … not welcome. Routinely dads are ostracized, forsaken, ignored, pushed aside, back stabbed. Unless of course that dad kowtows to the tribe’s uncompromising extremist views and meekly complies with the tribe’s dictates.

I could, once again, set forth the overwhelming facts and statistics supporting this opinion, as I did in this past article:

https://adadsjourneywitheatingdisorders.home.blog/2019/08/05/mobilize-the-marginalized-members/

But what would be the point? Again, those are simply statistics, facts, reason and logic. But the eating disorder tribe does not base its mania upon facts, reason and logic. Its mania embraces over the top emotionalism and self-loathing. Instead of debating and discussing complex biological, genetic and societal structures and proposing workable solutions, the tribe simply slaps a label on an issue, lifts high their pitchforks and burning torches and declares victory.

And the eating disorder community is worse off for that.

In the second part of this missive, we will look at the ramifications on eating disorders which have resulted from the attitudes and misconduct of the eating disorder community tribe. It is likely to not be pretty especially since we will look at facts, logic and reason.

But never forget, we dads persevere. We have resolve and resiliency. Yes, at times and ok, more often than not, we need direction. But we undertake tasks with passion, strength and determination.

Up until now, the eating disorder community tribe has acted with impunity, without interference or push back from dads. No longer.

That needs to end. For the sake of all.

Kintsugi

The tragic reality regarding eating disorders is that every objective, fact-based study and research paper indicates the number of persons afflicted with eating disorders, the severity of those eating disorders, and the mortality rate for persons afflicted with eating disorders are at the highest level we have ever known. In short, more people are suffering and more people are dying. And yet, no accountability is being taken. No consequences are being enforced. Honest answers to difficult and pointed questions are avoided or are non-existent.

There are undoubtedly many causes for that grim reality. Unfortunately, part of that reality must be laid at the feet of the eating disorder therapist mind set — group think currently infesting and harming the community.

In general, when many therapists are asked about the cause of the alarming reality, they point fingers at Covid, and “diet culture,” and fat phobia and white supremacy and weight discrimination and the patriarchy and ableism and healthism and every “ism” know to humankind.

However, where do most therapists refuse to point any fingers?  What will not be investigated? The answer quite simply is … themselves. There is no push back let alone accountability. Conflicts of interest ignored. Patients also being utilized as employees. Narcissism. In the name of social justice, reduced priority given to those who suffer and their families. And that is the “most unkindest cut of all.”

Make no mistake … there are some incredibly erudite, insightful, wise, compassionate and inspirational therapists. They are more than deserving of our gratitude, admiration and respect. But they are far too few and far too unknown. And that leads to tribal mentality and questionable mind sets and programs.

For example, a new proposed, certification program for eating disorders, not even in its infancy and not accredited by anyone, starts to roll out its program not by discussing eating disorders, nor their serious nature, nor the many complex factors and issues involved nor the incomprehensibly horrific mortality rate.  No. This program starts out by addressing “Indigenous Peoples’ Land Use Acknowledgement” and how you can reach out to groups supporting that “very important aspect of eating disorders.”

Because nothing says “this certification program is a very serious, hard-hitting, science based, evidence rich program designed to effectively address eating disorders in the 21st Century” than leading right out of the gate addressing Indigenous Peoples’ Land Use Acknowledgement! And the people who thought that would be an incredibly good idea are … therapists?

My initial response was going to expose the absurd nature of that messaging and its irrelevancy to eating disorders. In a very direct and blunt manner. But then sometimes, a different message comes to us in the most unexpected way.  And in being open to that messaging and the wonders of the multiverse, we perhaps start to see and realize alternate ways of thinking, feeling and believing.

For there can be beauty in the broken.

Kintsugi is a Japanese art form that repairs broken pottery with gold, rendering a new piece more exquisite than it was before the break. It literally means “to join with gold.”

Katherine and Jay Wolf, in their book, Suffer Strong, state:

“The story of kintsugi—this style of pottery—may be the most perfect embodiment of all our trauma-shattered lives… Instead of throwing away the broken beloved pottery, we’ll fix it in a way that doesn’t pretend it hasn’t been broken but honors the breaking—and more so, the surviving—by highlighting those repaired seams with gold lacquer. Now the object is functional once again and dignified, not discarded. It’s stronger and even more valuable because of its reinforced, golden scars.”

An article written by Vaneetha Risner beautifully states, “Rather than trying to hide the damage, kintsugi highlights the repair. The imperfections are what make it beautiful and valuable. A broken piece that is put back together has more of a story, seems more authentic and real, is stronger and more resilient than something that has stayed pristine.”

“God is the restorer, the kintsugi Master who skillfully and tenderly puts the broken pieces of our lives back together.”

Kintsugi. Kintsugi.

And so, regarding that attempted new, broken certification program, roll it back, revise it, edit it.  Consult with intelligent people who disagree with you. Collaborate with professionals from throughout the community not just those in your tribe. There is gold for you to use in addressing the flaws in the program. Find the gold and utilize it. Mold it and make something better. And most importantly, always remember…  IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU!

Therapists … You are merely the messengers. It is about the families who are suffering from eating disorders.  And when your child is suffering, you simply want them to heal, to embrace the richness of life.

Now, I don’t like to think of our suffering children as being “broken.” Perhaps, bent a bit. Fractured perhaps. But from those hardships, those obstacles, from deprivation, from fear and hurt and anger can come … healing. Enlightenment. Beauty. Resiliency and strength. Kintsugi.

Our therapists, those whom we entrust to help save the lives of our children, must embrace the concept of kintsugi. You must be wiser, more insightful, get past your preconceptions, your own fears, your own inner turmoil. Instead of believing you have all the answers, know that you absolutely do not. But you can get closer to a place of healing by opening your hearts, your minds, your souls to the wisdom of others.

Take the broken. And make it more beautiful than it ever was before.

Kintsugi.