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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
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...
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...
Sunday, August 14, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
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.
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.
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