Creating Our Self Image Part 1

Wow, its been awhile.  Much has happened, I have been avoiding...kind of what got me to be 300lbs in the first place.

Avoiding doesn't serve anyone, secrets don't serve anyone, transparency at least for me, is the cornerstone of my healing.

Shortly after my last post, I took a wonderful, relaxing, exciting cruise with my hubby to the Caribbean. It was a dream come true, I got to take my smaller body out complete with new clothes, a swimsuit and most importantly a smile.  We toured previously only dreamed about places and ventured do things the old me would not even venture to dream of.  The highlight of it all...a dolphin experience, which I highly recommend.  Never have I felt so carefree, never have a felt so light, not just in my body but in the essence of who I was.

We dined on delightful foods, every night at dinner I tried something new, I ventured into new territory with each day.  Never once did I over eat.  I read once that three bites is the magic number, that after three bites we are no longer "enjoying" the food only eating it.  I experimented with this and found it to be quite true,  I pushed away each course of every meal within three bites.  Okay, okay PERHAPS I might have snuck in a fourth bite on the melting chocolate cake but anyone whose tried it would agree that it breaks every rule!

We laughed, we explored, we took in shows, just lived in the minute for the entire time.  It was a celebration of 25 years of marriage (a few months early to avoid hurricane season) we dreamed of tomorrow and all that we would do and experience together.  Best week of our marriage to date.

We disembarked, excited because our vacation now morphed from a cruise to an additional week with our three sons, who live in Charleston, SC a mere 2200 miles from home.  Knowing my Mother woke early I called her excited to share our lively stories of the past week.  She greeted me with excitement shared briefly in our joy then became suddenly evasive and quiet.  Inquisitive I probed her for answers, she hesitant to bring an abrupt stop to our festive moods was not forthcoming with details.  Within minutes I got from her that during our trip, our 21 year old daughter fell down a flight of stairs, broke her back and suffered from a head injury.

Frantic, as mothers tend to be when separated from a needy child, no matter their age, while standing on a street corner in downtown Charleston, near the harbor,  I turned to my husband and demanded that he call a taxi for the airport immediately. I said we are leaving on the next flight no matter the cost, no matter what had to be done.  Mere seconds later my son pulled up and knew immediately by the look on my face that I had indeed found out the news.  He rushed to my side and said simply, "Call her, she is waiting."

After a lengthy, who, what, where and when, she convinced me that my coming home would change nothing.  She had, with the help of our WONDERFUL family doctor, taken care of ex-rays, medication, and the family doc told her to have me call her at home if necessary after I got in to assuage my fears.  Confident that she would keep me well informed we hung up and I began the process of letting go.  Only another mother could understand that feeling of utter and sheer desperation to be so far away from our child in need.

We did indeed stay the full week and while a part of me did travel back to my daughter I did my best to be in the moment with my sons for the week.  Upon my return home, the brevity of our daughters situation began to reveal itself to us.  She did not improve but rather regressed, her speech, her gait, the essence of who she used to be was gone.  Replacing my confident, secure, young lady was a scared child, left without even the ability to express her fears or needs.

Within the month after we returned she was shuffled from one doctor to another, unable to work and eventually unable to even drive, she began to lose her hearing, her vision.  Now left with difficulties speaking, seeing and hearing, she began to lose the feeling in her leg and arm.  She fell again, re-injuring the exact some spot on her head.  It was during a particularly trying day that my phone rang and my husbands hematologist, he is a DVT and PE survivor (deep vein thrombophlebitis and pulmonary embolism)  office called to inquire why we never followed through on his recent CAT scan.

Confused but thinking with everything going  on perhaps I did miss it, I asked what she was talking about.  Three phone calls later I found out his last CAT scan was NOT normal as we were told but quite suspicious.  I arranged for him to get a new scan without too much worry, certainly if something was REALLY wrong the doc would have told us. I received a call from the doctor the day after the scan.  He used words like, "Your husband is a delightful man, I hate to say this"...blah blah blah...GET TO THE POINT.

Long story short, after reviewing the previous cat scans, and speaking with a number of other docs...he has lymphoma.  Most likely stage four.   The numerous nodules, enlarged lymph nodes, fact that they were in all four quadrants, rapidly growing, coupled with some slow growing, added up to nothing good.  I asked what are the possibilities that it could be something else, he said slim to none but we would hurriedly rule out what few things might be at play.

Where was I to turn?  My husband has stage 4 cancer, my daughter has had to drop out of college where she was an honor student, she can't work, drive and doing basic daily task are difficult if not impossible.

Where was I to turn?  While having fun in a tropical setting, my family was unknowingly falling apart.

Where was I to turn?  I could not lean on my now sick husband, I could not further burden our needy daughter.

Where was I to turn?  My once active social life, filled with loving, caring friends, had dwindled with each decade gained on the scale I became more and more reclusive until my only friends existed through online social media.

Where was I to turn?  My friend, my constant companion, the only one that never judged me, that kept constant vigil...food.

Yes, she was not to be trusted as my private sins, she made public on my hips but she had never abandoned me.  She was not suffering the after effects of a traumatic brain injury, she was not teetering on the edge of life and death.  She was warm, cold, sweet, crunchy, salty, bitter, she was there.

Not This Time.

As a child we form our beliefs, they are formed so deep in our sub-conscience that we often don't even know or question them, for me this journey of self discovery, without my former best friend mindless eating, has been all about finding my beliefs then questioning them.  I hold fast to those beliefs that prove themselves to be worthy of keeping and challenge those that would serve to hurt my journey.  The only trouble with challenging is that is isn't like finding a pebble, that you can pick up and view from every angle and then easily discard, it is much more like an iceberg, you may discover it but the complexities sometimes lay too deep to fully explore.

In my lifetime, happiness was a very illusive thing, any hope of being happy was quickly dashed by tragedy or pain.  The past few weeks have brought me...happiness, true happiness, nothing has happened, no event that would bring most to the place of happiness, but rather there has been a feeling from within of contentment, I have let go of the "what if's" that have previously kept happiness at bay. In no way am I saying that throughout my 51 years I have not ever been happy, but rather that fleeting happiness I have felt has been overshadowed by fear.

Earlier this week, after a dreaded but successful clothes shopping trip, I came home, put down my bags, spoke to my dogs and felt it....happiness...only happiness.  I actually stopped what I was doing, took a deep breath and waited...isn't that about as silly as things can be I literally waited for the next few moments, I was as surprised by my feelings as one would be when you walk into a room flip on the light and no light comes on.  We all know the first thing we do is to flip it again!

I stood in my living room and realized that I was indeed having one emotion...simply happiness.  I started to laugh, I am sure my dogs were confused and thankfully no one else was around to see this awkward moment when I realized that a good emotion can exist singularly.  Often that day I stopped to question the validity of my happiness and each time I was left with the same previously unknown feeling, that indeed one can be happy for the sake of happiness alone.

Since that Monday a mere four days ago, I have experienced the wonderful feeling of singular happiness many times.  It has not been followed by fear, unworthiness or a dramatic human event.  Of course, I have dissected it, examined it and questioned it but mostly I have enjoyed it.  Could it change tomorrow?, absolutely! Does that diminish my current joy of experiencing joy...not this time.

Not this time...

Not this time!

What does it take?

Ah the question for which, if I had an answer, I could retire comfortably on a nice island surrounded by staff to service my every need...

What does it take?,  more importantly what are we willing to give?

When I take a trip the first thing I do is map out my route.  I prepare the car, ensure the dogs are taken care of, mail service is arranged, my bags are packed, then get in the car and head out.

When I need a new outfit, I take a look at sales, go to a few stores, try on a few things and make my selection.

As dinner time quickly approaches one takes the time to assemble the ingredients for a nice home cooked meal.  Follows the proper steps to ensure they have a well balanced meal.

EVERY day we all make decisions that impact us.  We know the wrong turn, the wrong size or the wrong sequence of ingredients will drastically affect our trip, our clothing, our meals.

Why then, with the certain knowledge that cause and effect are intrinsic, do we find ourselves repeating over and again those same mistakes that bring us pain, heartache and emptiness?  Do we honestly feel that one day magically the same choice of behaviors will somehow produce a different result?

I am seven months post weight loss surgery, I feel better than I have in years, I am beginning to shop in the regular women's section of a store for the first time in well over two decades, pushing away from the dinner table was beginning to be easy, food didn't have the same allure it once did.  Why then two days ago did I suddenly begin to inhale food?  Where did my new found satiety go?

What am I doing?  What am I searching for?  What am I afraid of? What does it take?

I Got a Job!

I was hired this week to help coordinate a large Expo.  How exciting to begin something new!  Worry over starting up my old brain was not justified as it seems to be working well, and feels good to be putting some very underutilized skills back to work.  Can't begin to say how many hours I have logged in the past few days and the smile on my face as I crank out the workload is such a pleasant change from my previous day to day.

Then fast forward to tonight...I open my facebook page only to be greeted by the offer to confirm my employment by my employer...never had this happen before and seriously I felt as giddy as a teenager.   Silly how something like becoming an employee again can make someone feel.  It was like I was being recognized again after feeling like a "nobody" for so long.  It is NOT that I feel that stay at home Mom's aren't important because I vehemently disagree with that but in my case...my "stay at home mom" status was long ago used up.  Seriously my "baby" turned 21 this year!!

So my journey takes yet another twist and I could not be happier for it.  This week also I broke a VERY long plateau in my weight loss journey so that too feels amazing.  So nice to feel excited for a new day, excited for the future and excited to be alive.

Surviving

I am a survivor of childhood abuse.  I was raised to never speak of it, to remember the good and let the bad go.  I was to love him, understand him, be kind, patient, grateful...

How does one do this in actuality?  How do you lick your wounds alone and in silence? For me...I ate.  I ate away the disappointment, the lack of support.  I stuffed in the certain knowledge that indeed perhaps my father was right, I could never be smart enough, pretty enough, strong enough, basically that no matter what I ever did, said, believed or felt, I would never be enough.

Recently the pain of memories long repressed have reared their ugly head again. In my adult life I have sought out counselling about a half dozen times.  Each time I leave stronger, more confident, part of my perpetual tape recording of unworthiness cut.  But like an onion the effects of abuse are layered, one can not wish away a layer prematurely.  Our wonderful minds sometimes don't allow us to peal away more than we can handle at a time.  Rather we peal away to the raw nerve of our innermost pain until we can no longer peal away for that time.

With my weight loss surgery I am forced to deal with my actual issues as stuffing them away conveniently with donuts and soda just is no longer in the cards.  I have tried!  Not a good idea post surgical weight loss.

I went back to my counselor in the past two weeks and since my first time there with her was for an issue with my children we never got to delve into my own past.  I was asked to write down a few items from my childhood that I felt might have left an impact in my life and to quantitate each event.   I sat down and within minutes I had three pages of memories but was unable to place an order of importance on each event.

Which is worse, being beaten until blood dripped from your back and legs or seeing your sibling similarly  beaten? Which has a greater impact, your brother being murdered or not eating day after day until you no longer felt hunger? Never knowing what might set him off, a look, a spilled glass of milk, constantly being on your toes to remember your manners for it wasn't just yourself you could endanger but the beating of your sibling or mother.

What we wouldn't have done to have a place to go, a bed to sleep in without the fear of being found. But sadly for us that was not to be. Today I attended a luncheon for a local shelter, I sat and listened as one after the other spoke of the good that came out of their stay in the shelter. How do we mend?  Where do we mend?  To whom do you turn?

This I know, we must never stop trying.  We can't begin to know the pain and suffering of another individual. Happy well adjusted people do not over eat to the point of morbid obesity, alcoholics aren't thirsty...we are all searching for what ever is missing.

My greatest fear is that my father was right.  I will work everyday to prove that he was mistaken, that I am pretty enough, strong enough, able enough.  I am enough.

Day to day doldrums

I have come here to post a few times over the past week and left with nothing to say. Those of you that know me, know that I seldom at loss for words.  Guess there just hasn't been anything, "news worthy" lately.  I could tell you all about how my puppy got spayed last week...poor baby, or how my daughter is enjoying college life, my sons caught an alligator (shudder to think!) or how my hubby has been busy working longer than normal hours on night shift.  But these things all put together just reflect another day, another week, another month, none so very different from the ones before.  The things in life that as we go through them seem big but then fade into the background that is life itself.

We are seldom defined by the big things it is the humdrum of life that better defines who we are.  My daughter and I were speaking last weekend when she came to visit how dramatically my life has changed.  When the children were little, it changed in an instant, someone tripped and broke a bone, a school project long forgotten was due in the morning, a heart was broken, feelings hurt...all things that needed an instant response by mom and I was always at the wheel to steer them to calmer waters.

Now my life is defined in a slower more deliberate way.  Still there are those moments that require instant  response but they are further and farther between.  Where then does a mother go when she is no longer defined as a mother?  Shifting gears is a slow and confusing process.  In it's wake I will take more time to see the world around me.  Volunteer more, reflect more, nurture myself more.

Fall

Well for most of the country Fall has fallen upon us.  I live in Arizona so for us it is but a day on the calendar.  Our temps have fallen though they threaten to be back in triple digits by tomorrow...mid October!  For the entire summer I have given myself the excuse that I can't exercise due to extreme heat...what then is my excuse now?

The morning and evening temps have gone down to a quite comfortable walking level, why then can I not find myself outside taking advantage?  I have gone for some short walks with my dogs but honestly these walks are too little and too infrequent.  I have been using my Wii and enjoying the exercise and dancing games, but that too is infrequent and fleeting.

This week I have honestly NOT been living by the code of my surgery.  It is as if I am determined to fail, why do I do this to myself?  How do I climb out of this hole that I have created?  How do I find a way to WANT to climb out?  My life pattern has remained the same...I do well, I stop doing well.

Why do we fall down? What keeps us down and how do we find something worth getting up for?  I am a blessed person, my husband has a good job and we have enough.  Often we don't get everything we want but always there is enough for what we need.  I am a simple person, surrounding myself with a few niceties but for the most part happy with what I have.  I feel complete...yet hopelessly incomplete.

I have fallen...how, when and why will I get up?

Damaged Goods

For so long I felt that I stood basically alone in the knowledge that I was indeed damaged goods.  Silence and secrets kept that certain knowledge from ever being questioned or challenged. I learned young that we are to keep our family secrets hidden, that nothing good could ever come by letting anyone know your situation.  Unspoken messages proclaimed loudly that we are best viewed as wallflowers.  I mean actually who really inspects wallpaper closely, it is something to be viewed and appreciated from afar.  Best to make sure that people only saw enough of you to recognize and appreciate the flower that bloomed for all to see, never looking to see the bent and broken stem held up with duct tape and a prayer.

How often do we really inspect those around us for damaged root systems?  Especially children.  And at the root of who we are, do we really ever grow past being children on the inside? Along with the lesson of not speaking that which was by nature unspeakable, the lesson of duck and weave was embedded with force, with each blunt blow to the trunk of my body and the very occasional blow to the face, I learned to duck those that might ask questions and weave from the eyes of those that might view the residual damage.  The internal bruises were mine, they were kept clearly out of the vision of all, mostly even to myself.  Or so I thought.

For as long as I can remember food never assaulted me, never questioned me with impenetrable stares, refused to ask of me more than I could give.  Food soothed my cuts, calmed my fears, shielded me from anticipation for the next episode. Food offered up to me solace from the world. Comfort for another day.  Then food itself turned on me.  Long ago the concrete source of my abuse was removed, age and distance saw an end to the physical but honestly any abused person can attest that we tend to pick up where the abuser ends, continuing the berating, the belittling, keeping the recording of abuse playing long after the music stops.  Yes, food, the fickle friend, decided to bestow upon me many weight related maladies.

High blood pressure, elevated cholesterol and triglycerides, the constant threat of diabetes, pounding at my door.  But the worst part of all with dance with food was that she told the story of our affair.  I never had to open my mouth to utter words, simply open it to dine on her lies and deceit. She promised me fluffy bites of sweetness, crunchy morsels of saltiness, cold cool drinks of liquid sweetness, she seduced me completely and I allowed it.  I bought the lies that she sold and she left the tail tale signs all over my hips, my waist, my bosoms.  We sinned in private but she revealed our relationship in public, eventually forcing me to become reclusive.  She won out...or so she thought.

The day that I made the decision to severe my ties with food's glutinous promises, was the day I freed myself from my self inflicted prison.  As I walked to the operating room, I stripped her of her power, the surgeon severed any future hope she had of keeping me captive.

We do somehow survive our past, we do find ways to comfort ourselves, in time we hope to thrive...but in the meantime we find a way to inspect our damage, speak of that which we only believed to be unspeakable. If we are lucky,  we discover others that plant seeds of hope within, those that accept us for who and what we are, that see our past our damaged places to find what we too can offer to the world.  We find our station in life.

Alone Again...Naturally

Not so very long ago I dreaded being alone, that is where I did most of my eating.  My children have now all flown away and my husband is married to his job.  I spent many a day, week, month or year pretty much alone anyway, even surrounded by my family I kept alone, well within the confines of those walls that I so meticulously built. Growing up in constant abuse teaches one to  keep quiet and do your best to blend.  It was my desire always to be a wallflower, never dreaming of grand plans, never desiring the best of life, just learning to hope for enough.

I am blessed to have found a husband that truly does accept me for who I am, not asking more of me than I can give.  He has certainly lived through some pretty bleak times with me and never wavered in his commitment to me or our marriage. He too has walls, tall ones with some pretty sturdy material that even after 25 years of marriage I have not managed to weaken.  Seeing him through the years never feel good enough has caused me a great deal of pain but strangely enough it has of late taught me not to do the same.  His constant feelings of inferiority have been overshadowed only by my own.  As this surgery has given me fresh perspective and renewed hope I now see that these feelings are overdue to be challenged.

Now seeing my father as a lost and scared individual causes me to revisit my abuse and recognize it in a different light.  There isn't an excuse for abusing a helpless child, there never will be, but now as an adult it is easier to view the experience as being perpetrated by a sick individual whose own personal needs were never addressed and met.  Gone is the hate that once firmly gripped me, gone is the terrified girl that so often hid in a closet praying to escape that days beating.

We come here alone, we leave here alone, we gather experiences, hopes, enlightenment and if we are lucky we gather peace.  So at this junction I can say proudly that being alone is no longer scary, it is no longer something to fear.  Alone is where I now recharge, it is where I listen, it is where nature whispers to me, it is where I have begun to disassemble all the walls that have for so many years protected yet prevented me from living.  As my years of fat begin to melt something new and exciting is emerging, I can't wait to get to know that lady in the mirror a little better...alone, naturally.

Surviving a Stall

Since my WLS I have spent a great deal of time researching, reading and learning.  EVERY person that loses weight goes through the dreaded stall.  I had my first post surgical stall at three weeks and it lasted for three weeks.  I have found that this time frame seems to be a commonly heard complaint by many in the surgical weight loss community.  Because of this knowledge the fear commonly associated seemed to be tolerable.  Fast forward three months...the pasts three weeks have been quite trying because in addition to not losing I have also not seen any non-scale victories either.  This has been a challenging few weeks.

I have convinced myself over and over these past three weeks that indeed this isn't going to work for me.  Going so far as to make peace with my still overweight but greatly more comfortable girth.  I had settled in on the mind set that I can walk more comfortably, wear more clothes, bend over without pain, do household chores with greater ease, basically the brainwashing from within was in full overdrive.  BUT yesterday I dropped a pound...no excitement was to be as flukes happen all the time.  THEN this morning I dropped yet another pound, the party was early (I was running an early morning errand for my sister) but the dancing in my bathroom was sudden and unexpected.  Since I worked so hard to convince myself to be pleased where I was, the gratification I felt at those two consecutive pounds was more than expected.

So for those of you that are attempting to lose, surgically or otherwise, please believe us when we say that stalls are normal, they are part of the journey, we ALL experience them and you will overcome.  You will forget this advice, you will believe it doesn't apply for you and you will want to throw in the towel.  The good part of a surgical intervention...they attach the towel to you, no longer can you "choose" to throw it in.  With surgery we are all in, everyday, in every situation.  Overeating is no longer an option. Just be sure to take a minute to HALT what you are doing and ask yourself what emotion is causing you to want to overeat... are you Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired?  Just take an extra minute to identify your feelings and stop eating through them.

Visiting the Valley of life.

As I reread my last entry, I am struck that many may feel it was negative, and we are pushed by society to be positive.  I for one do not believe that we should always be positive, which might surprise many of you that know me personally and find me to be an overwhelmingly positive person.  By in large, I do seek to find the silver lining but learned years ago that to ignore those dark days is to go against who we sometimes are.

We should always question life, question choices, question the status quo. If we don't spend time in the valley we can't truly appreciate the mountain top.  Lately I feel such conflicting emotions stirring within me and find them battling leaving me but a voyeur.  Excitement for my new life and yearning for my old ways are in direct conflict right now.  I am happy beyond explanation yet, fearful beyond description.  Why, if my old choices were what made me so miserable, do I still desire to hold onto reckless emotional eating?

Have I veered so far from rational that I would so strongly cling to this sinking ship, that was my life? Do we ever really abandon who we used to be to adhere fully to our new beings?  Is anyone capable of rewriting the entirety of who they are?  Or do we instead, just chisel a little here and there on our outward persona, giving to others the illusion of change, all the while keeping our true selves hidden?

Once many years ago, during a short period of profound depression,  my husband told me to quit being sad.  Confused I pressed for understanding for this quite previously unheard of concept of "stopping" how I feel.  He said to pretend to be happy until I was happy or least let others see me as so.  This was beyond my scope of understanding for, while I had no trouble "faking" my emotional state for the general population, being someone or something that I wasn't never occurred to me within the confines of those with whom I gave and received love and comfort.  He again, reiterated that he didn't want or like to see me sad and that he would prefer that I "be" happy around him.  In that moment I felt something I never thought I would feel, not from him, I felt that he too like so many before him, did not accept me as I was.  I am sure this was fleeting moment for him, one which most likely has no recollection, but for me it is emblazoned in my memory banks.  No longer could I naively cleave to him with the full knowledge that he accepted me fully as I was, he became part of the masses that day, I wonder sometimes if that level of naivety and trust will ever be a part of my life again.

Mirror mirror on the wall...

Change is ever-present.  To stay the same is to regress, yet here I am.  Fear grips me, but I don't know the core of my fear.  Food has always allowed me to repress my feelings, my thoughts, my fears and here I am stripped of my best friend, my constant companion, I stand now naked from the world of feelings, thoughts and fears.  Where do I turn, what do I do, who am I now?

I stand before the mirror that is my life right now and recognize nothing.  Fear freezes me, suffocates me from within, unable to move, forward or backwards I am left with nothing, I hope nothing, I plan nothing, I do nothing.  The calendar moves but forgets to take me with it, I see the clock clicking away, marching forward but I do not feel the passage of time.

Where to go?  What to do? When to do it?  Some days I just sit and feel the rise and fall of my chest, why have I come so far, just to exist?  I have hidden so long under the cloak of fat that I have forgotten...

New Chapter

On February 5, 1982 I became a mom.  It was without a doubt the most overwhelmingly intense rush of emotions I have ever experienced in my life.  The feeling of holding this new little complete person in my arms can't be explained with mere words, it can only be experienced.  He was quickly whisked away to be bathed, weighed, measured, poked and prodded and a fresh clean little guy was quickly delivered back into my waiting arms.

It wasn't until a few hours later, exhausted from the day, and after calling the nursery for them to come and get him, whereupon they explained that newborns now sleep in the mother's room that the full impact hit me...this is it...I am now and forever more will be a mother.  As proud and elated as I was the room still seemed to be lacking in oxygen or at least I was unable to inhale sufficiently to ward off the now inundating fear that would accompany such a revelation.  At that very moment, my son began to cry, and I was helpless to provide his needs.

Somehow we just figure it out, a diaper, a bottle, a blanket and far too soon, a boo boo, a heartbreak, a choice of colleges, and much more in-between.

Yesterday my last baby, left for college.  My nest is empty, my mind is full of memories, the house feels a little less like a home.  She has flown off to find her place in the world and I am left to find what is left of me.  Twenty nine years, six months, eight days of parenthood will most certainly leave one unsure of who they are as an individual.

My identity has for so long been that of a mother, finding something past that just might prove to be an exciting journey.  I am up for the challenge, seeing the road before me much as I did as a teenager, exciting, unknown but now better equipped for the journey with more life experiences under my belt.  After all life is nothing but a series of 'figuring it out as you go'.  So bring out the pencil and paper,  ummm keyboard and screen, this next chapter just might be a blockbuster yet.

Head Games

No matter how long I live I will never fully understand the head games we play with ourselves.  I certainly understand the complicated relationships that contribute to "who we are" and "where we come from" but no matter how many times we "deal" with our past, it continues to rare it's judgemental head often when we least expect it.

So far in my weight loss journey I have lost 47 lbs.  Not bad since I just started this latest journey the end of May, a mere 2 1/2 months ago.  YET, until last week I never saw any change in the person in the mirror.  Others have been commenting and complimenting but honestly it never has been about what others think but rather what do YOU see when you look in the mirror.  So far I have had three long stalls one for three weeks.  Currently I am in a seven day stall but worse yet, I had a five pound gain in there as well.  I was put on steroids so this was more than expected yet, my mind has begun it's usual downward spiral of death.

One of the greatest blessing of having had weight loss surgery is that now I get to have a new ending to this death spiral.  While my head is today throwing in the towel, my much tinier tummy now gets a much bigger vote.  Failure just isn't an option any more.  What will I replace this loss of control with?...many who have traveled this road before me choose other equally destructive choices since overeating was removed from the equation.  Some choose alcohol others obsessive shopping, gambling or promiscuity. My choice...type...type my feelings, type my anger, type my frustration.

I feel an overwhelming need to put words to feelings, as though the very act of attaching words gives authenticity to my feelings.  No longer do I wish to remain quietly on the sidelines, keeping to myself thoughts, opinions and feelings.  So many of us were raised to believe that we live with the hand we are dealt, we play our cards and quietly rake in whatever winnings we receive.  I have made a different choice, I am throwing back my hand of cards, not to exchange for a new hand but rather I am pushing myself away from the table, choosing a new game, one in which I no longer feel dependent on the whim of another person to deal out my life.

Head games are habits that can, with time, be broken, we need to reprogram the tape recorder in our heads, take away those recording that we play just loud enough to allow our sub-conscience to hear but never loud enough to acknowledge fully.  These whispered messages are the ones self image hears so loudly, starting today I will allow myself to confront those messages, replacing them with positive messages that are more in line with what I want my world to sound like.

Today I pulled out shirts that no longer fit, purged a bit of yesterday from my life.  I took a few extra minutes after drying my hair to look at me...really look at me.  I liked what I saw, a beautiful, middle aged woman with full curves and an open heart, ready to listen to a new message, able to see, hear, feel and hope.

Road Trip = Mind Trip

Tomorrow one of my California nieces will promise to love and cherish her darling soul mate in front of family and friends.  I am blessed to be going to see the wedding but a bit nervous for the trip itself.  My hubby's family is, large, Italian, loud and lovely.  How my newly formed tummy will adjust to the confusion, hustle and bustle will be interesting, I am sure.  This will be my third trip since my surgery but the first one that includes family in the mix.  I traveled home from Mexico four days after surgery, and at the four week mark I took a day trip to California to pick up my lovely new puppy, Annie.  That was 13 hours to accomplish and mostly went well.

We will head out at 4 AM which for those of you that know me and my abiding friend, Insomnia, know that this is an unreasonable hour to be sure.  My DH gets up every day at 3 so for him this will be just another day.  I usually manage to fall asleep by 1 or 2 AM so good luck to him, dealing with my less than pleasant mood.

This trip will be my first foray into, "you lost weight" or "something is different" or maybe no one will notice at all.  I did not do the surgery for outside comments, opinions or observations but certainly they do weigh heavy on one's mind. Many people that know me might misinterpret my outgoing nature as one of confidence but they would be mistaken. I have always wanted, yearned to be the wall flower.  Blending in has been my steadfast wish from as long as I can remember.

Being a nobody was a matter of survival from a very young age, walking the tightrope of never being naughty enough to be noticed to never too outstanding enough to bring attention.  It is a chore that I continue to foster to this day...not a day goes by that I don't allow myself to shrink.  As a child this skill was perfected and made easier by having a brother that always got in trouble and siblings that were smarter, prettier, more talented and clever than I.  Blending is easier when you have built in camouflage like that.

Now I find that the cloak of fat that I wore needs to be revisited, it will disappear and what will take it's place, how will I find my way without this companion of mine?  How will I answer the questions that certainly will come this weekend? Will my facade of confidence serve me?  Will others see the real me, will they see the scared, shaking, shivering child the abides just under the surface?  Would they like the me that I am when no one is looking?  Will my wall crumble this weekend, next, or will it fall at all?

Got to finish packing...

My new tummy = my new life

Well the past day and a half have been...well, interesting.  Since surgery there have been many times when my mind has been hungry, not so much my body but in the past it has always been my mind that speaks the loudest, complains the most, and ultimately gets its way.

For those of you that don't know, I live in the Valley of the Sun, aka Phoenix, AZ, aka the face of the sun!!  For the most part we love living in Phoenix, we love the unique beauty that is the Sonoran Desert. BUT we also love air conditioning...a LOT.  Yesterday it decided not to work, that proved to be a bit of an issue as the temps yesterday were at 106.  Fortunately we found a kind, wonderful, compassionate man that came out and checked things out and this morning he returned with parts to get us up and running again.

The inside temps were never over 85 which was tolerable unless you did anything, like well, breathing or stuff like that! As soon as the repairman left I headed off, with my daughter to run our errands, I do believe that the traffic light gods were conspiring against me as I hit EVERY light for the first 13 miles of my trip, there were at least 25 lights, where the engine was idling and the sun was burning.  The car a/c just could not keep up,  then in keeping with my day, I got lost.

So I am sitting in my hot car, irritated, under severe time constraints (had to pick someone up from the airport), itching beyond explanation (still have my post op rash a reaction to the tape used to close my incision), thirsty and lost, when my low gas light comes on...really?! Well there is one thing you NEVER want to do while in Phoenix in the summer...that is to run out of gas.  So off we go in search of a station, accidentally run across the very place we were searching for in the first place, and eventually get to a station for some much needed fuel.

I get out and pump gas while my daughter goes in the convenience store searching for anything that can safely go into our newly shaped tummies.  She comes back unsuccessful but at least cooler than she was and we head off to finish errands.  We rode about 40 feet and the light turns yellow. I look to her and we both start to laugh, this can't be real today.

We get a bit more serious and I told her that THIS is why I wanted this surgery, if ever there was a day that I would "cheat" on a diet it would have been today.  I was upset, unsettled, lost, hot, itching, irritated, and HUNGRY...the perfect storm of dieting doom.  Today my tummy talked, and I listened, perhaps I did not want to listen, but it was louder than before or maybe I have changed my hearing, the only difference is that it spoke a different language, one that until now has been foreign to me. It spoke and said, perhaps in the tiniest whisper, "I am fine, I don't need anything right now."

Words can't express how grateful that I am for the opportunity to get a grip on my eating, certainly there is always the wish that this could be accomplished with exercise and diet, that was not to be.  This path was right for me...today I was grateful for a bad day, a really bad day...it reminded me why this is the journey I chose.

Manna from Heaven

I just brewed a cup of my favorite coffee, poured it over a plethora of crushed ice with a splash of sugar free vanilla creamer...my first cup post-op...this is truly manna from heaven for me right now.  I took a sip while carrying it into the office to let it rest, I love it just as the ice begins to melt, it was so perfect in a sinfully delicious way.

Here is to hoping that I begin to enjoy those little things in life that make the big things so much more tolerable.

My mantra for today...slow down, relax, take in the moment, and most importantly RECOGNIZE the moment.  Oh course, if I could get rid of this incessant, flesh burning, blistering, itching rash next to my incisions it would sure make my day better...hope my doctor isn't upset over my decision to travel out of the country for weight loss surgery, I will find out in a few hours. Fingers crossed.

Journey is complete

Well, my daughter and I are successfully home from our trip to Mexico.  We went for one surgery and ended up with another one and are both happy with the change.  We ended up getting gastric sleeve surgery done, they take about 75% of your stomach out leaving a 'sleeve' for a stomach.  We are surprised by how well we did and are excited about the new life that spreads before us.

Our quest isn't about being 'thin' or 'pretty' but rather to gain control of that which we have never seemed to be able to control. Both of us are strong, outspoken, fairly confident women and the fact that we had so little control over our eating pecked away at our beings, leaving a weak spot that continued to crumble who we were.  Even though our physical state has not changed that much the mental shift has most definitely taken root and promises to shore up those crumbling walls.

My husband seems to be happy with our decision, frankly I think he was missing the carefree, lively woman that he married, the one that never shuddered in the face of new challenges, who embraced new days, new experiences and the unknown.  There is something about the day to day humdrum that does peck away, sick children, being a taxi, never-ending sports practices, taking care of home and hubby, it just became too plain.   Long gone were the days of excitement over trying a new recipe, enjoying the fresh clean smell of a newly scrubbed house, watching the clock excited to have my husband return after a long day at work.  One day just lazily gave way to the next.

This decision was for me.  The first truly selfish thing I ever remember doing for myself but this decision proves to be the very thing that will spur change among the entire household. No matter what the future holds there are no regrets.

Preparing the Way

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go...

The best and biggest decision I have ever made for myself and hopefully the start of a new life for me and for my daughter.  We journey together tomorrow to have bariatric surgery in Mexico.  Our insurance company does not allow for any treatment for obesity at all so we felt that we had to look outside the box and get creative to be able to afford this avenue of treatment.

This is a journey of self discovery, one in which we both hope to come out the other side as thinner, healthier, happier versions of our current selves.  For all the years that I taught my daughter that selflessness is important in my actions, this will now show her that we do need to put self first.  Without treating ourselves as important we can not then treat others as important, for love and acceptance does truly start with self.

Walking the plank tomorrow will be cathartic, diving deep into the unknown, two independent women seeking more, better, a deeper understanding of self and a willingness to give up in order to gain.

As the surgeon cuts, he will be carving out what makes me, me.  Severing the umbilical cord of food from my body, as he stitches the fresh wound he will take from me my comfort, my companion, my abiding love for salty, sweet, crunchy bits of solace from the world. In its place he will impart restraint. He will sew in control.  With forcefulness I will embrace this new way of nourishing my body, leaving my mind to seek alternate gratification.

I will advise you to keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times...tighten up that seat belt this ride promises to be bumpy.

A Road Not Taken

And thus the journey begins...or at least it changes.  Went to yet another doctor about two months ago.  Tired, aching, just no jest for life...then make a change he says.  Well, this time was different. This time I listened.  Some bloodwork, some meds, some adjustment but the biggest change..I heard him.  Yes there are physiological reasons for my issues but the biggest hurdle is the one that drives us all, the fuel that weaves and makes us, creates us in our entirety...the brain, not the one that can be seen on medical scan but the one that makes us the individuals that we are.

I gave him excuses, reasons if you will, for each hurdle..."then change that"  was his simple and steadfast answer to each new blockade I offered to him.  He was as insufferable as the counselor I saw prior to my choice to quit my job years ago and get a divorce.  She, like my current doctor, was unwavering in her belief that no one is forced into a life they do not choose, she too, quickly shot down every excuse I could come up with to keep my life on course.  Health insurance, job security, two incomes, my house, parents should raise a child together, she was prepared for every argument I threw her way, and he too echoed those lessons I had finally accepted so many years before.  The lessons that brought to me more security by letting go, more money by giving up my job and quality time to parent my children by removing the cloud of unhappiness that enveloped my very being.

Today my path did not fork, there was no great divide for which I was forced to make a decision, instead I choose to draw upon a new map.  Leaving behind that which has brought me comfort and familiarity for the new and painful journey ahead, one for which I do believe will ultimately bring me happiness which I have until now only dreamed.

Dreaming was something for others and now as this new map lays out in front of me full of promise and possibility I am filled with hope.  Hope a word that would not have been used to describe my life for many years...this leaves me hopeful.