When Did This Become Okay?

When did this become okay? When did it become okay to not be able to put on my shoes and socks without straining and becoming short of breath? When did it become okay to not be able to shower in my own home because I cannot raise my legs high enough to step into the tub? When did it become okay to not be able to reach in the bathroom? How did I let things get to this point? I was suddenly struck by the realization that my normal is no longer "normal" this afternoon as I sat on the side of my bed, struggling to get up. I have to rock back and forth, big time, to build up enough momentum to hoist myself off of the mattress into a standing position, which usually takes me 4 or 5 tries now. Its not a pretty sight. I'm not a pretty sight. When did this become okay?

And as I sat there crying, I had to acknowledge that unless I do something about this, unless I take action, this isn't going to change. I presently do not like where I am. I do not like how I look. I do not like how my clothes fit. I do not like how I feel. I do not like that I am limited as to what I can do by the size of my body. So I have a choice to make. Accept that this is my lot in life or do something about it. I refuse to accept that the way I am living now is okay any longer! I want better for me. I have been reluctant to join a gym out of the fear of what others might think of me or how I look. I'm not going to let that stop me anymore. Today, I made a phone call and set up an appointment with a personal trainer to help establish an exercise program to get me started moving again. I know that this is going to be difficult, but I am up for the challenge. In the past, I always enjoyed working out. I have faith that I can get there again. Is it going to be difficult? Yes! Am I going to curse at the treadmill? YES! But I am going to do it anyway knowing that it is what is right for me.

I am also going to commit to drinking four bottles of water a day. My doctor has been pushing that one for several months now. I'm not going to wait until I figure out why I keep sabotaging myself first, before adopting healthy habits. Otherwise, I'll never start taking care of myself. I have time to work on that in therapy while I am working on becoming healthier physically. I really have no more excuses to keep putting off what I know I need to do. I'm ready to work on getting back to "normal".

***UPDATE***: This blog entry was written six years ago. Since then I've swallowed my pride and admitted that I needed help in taking care of myself. As an occupational therapist, I'm aware of durable medical equipment and adaptive equipment that can make it easier to maintain or improve someone's level of independence in the home. I balked at the idea of using these things though. I thought that those were only for people who had a "legitimate" illness or disability. The fact that I needed help because I was "fat" didn't count. I was letting my pride stand in the way of doing what I needed to do for myself. I now use a hospital bed. I had a grab bar, ADA height toilet, and a transfer tub bench installed in my bathroom after my knee replacement surgeries. I use a sock aid and a reacher to get dressed. I have a rolling walker and a cane, if I need them. I have started an exercise program through cardiac rehab three days a week. As I'm losing weight and getting stronger I'm beginning to see some things returning to "normal" and it feels good! Tonight, THAT is what I'm choosing to motivate me to keep moving forward!

No Longer Anesthesized

It has been quite some time since I initially started writing a blog about my weight loss journey. I think its pretty safe to say that I had abandoned my efforts at achieving a healthier me. I gave up on me. And then I continued to try to numb my feelings through compulsive overeating and binging. Why might I do that, you may wonder? I've spent a lot of time asking myself that very same question and the answer I keep coming back to is fear.

I am afraid to lose weight. Losing weight would mean that I would be more mobile. I wouldn't get so out of breath with every little task I set out to do. And that means more would be expected of  me. And I don't like that. I've  become rather accustomed to my slovenly ways and have forgotten how good it feels to be able to actually participate in life instead of simply sitting by the sidelines watching the world go by. I no longer know how to interact with the world and the people around me and being a part of scares me. I am an introvert by nature and my weight has suited me well as a means of isolating myself from others. What will I do without my  crutch? What will I do if I don't have an extra 250 pounds to put between me and you? How will I continue to feel safe around others, without feeling too vulnerable? The thought of intimacy with other human beings (and I'm not referring exclusively to sexual intimacy here) terrifies me and shakes me to the core. What if you really get to know me and you don't like me? I need my fat to protect me!

Only, I'm so very sad and lonely right now. I'm still isolated even within my friendships, at my own doing. I've made some significant progress and am no longer trolling the fast food joints like the great white shark in Jaws (and yes, I hear the music playing in the background!), searching for that ever elusive sense of warmth and comfort that simply cannot be found in a strawberry and cream pie or a peanut buster parfait. Now, the food no longer anesthesizes me and I am crying inside. Dying inside. I cannot continue down the path I am on. Today, I stand ready to make a change. Please be kind and gentle with me as I tread this uneven path, for I am afraid, but I can't continue to live my life the way I've been living it. No more giving up on me.

If Nothing Changes, Nothing Changes

So, here I am, sitting down to start on a new blogging adventure. I have decided to chronicle my weight loss journey on a blog. Why in the world would I want to do this? Afterall, my struggle with weight is a very personal matter and is a sensitive, touchy subject. However, I am going to put my thoughts and experiences out there for others. My reasons for doing so are threefold. First of all, my problems with weight and compulsive overeating are visible, whether I want to admit to that or not. Anyone who looks at me can already see that I have a problem, so it does me no good to continue to deny that I do indeed struggle with my relationship to food. Secondly, I cannot change something that I don't acknowledge and I am ready to make some changes for the better. Lastly, I have decided that this is something that I cannot tackle alone. By making my journey visible for friends and family to read, I am inviting people to help hold me accountable and to be there walking alongside of me as I work to change my life for the better. It will take me out of isolation and allow myself to be loved by others as I move forward on this path.

I don't want to focus on the "numbers". I will not be weighing and measuring myself obsessively, which will be a change in and of itself. I'm used to weighing myself several times a day so that I can either reward myself for being "good" or punish myself for being "bad". Either way, I am eating for reasons other than hunger. That being said, I still need to know where I am starting from and have a way to mark my progress along the way. I am going to commit to weighing and measuring myself only once a week. I will allow the way my clothes fit and feel to be my true measuring stick of progress.

Today, I will start out by acknowledging that yes, I am fat. I'm using that word because it is accurate and by using it in a non judgemental way to simply state a fact, I am taking the power of that word to hurt my feelings away. It used to be that that was the worst thing that I thought anyone could ever call me but I do not feel that way any longer. It simply is what it is.

I started a medically supervised weight loss program in August with the intention of pursuing bariatric surgery next spring. At that time I weighed 396 pounds. Today, I weigh 368 pounds and wear a size 32 in jeans. Period. I am relieved that I am not still at my highest weight which was 447 pounds last fall. I am excited about the opportunities to make myself healthier physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I guess in this case, there is nowhere to go but down! I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have any expectations about what I want  to happen. I expect to lose weight. I expect to get stronger. I expect my joint pain to decrease. But I don't expect these things to happen overnight or without work and effort on my part. It is my goal to strive for loving and accepting myself along the way, not waiting until I lose "X" number of pounds or get into a size "Y". It is time for me to start loving myself the way I love and treat others. I am fat, but I am not unlovable. I am a woman deserving of love and respect and I refuse to continue to accept anything less.

The Witching Hour

It is upon me again - the witching hour. I have come to dread this time of day. Eight p.m. rolls around and all I want to do is EAT! I'm never "hungry" at 8:00. I'm not always even particularly bored either. But my mind turns to food and it is all that I think about. I wonder what I have in the kitchen. I grumble because I didn't buy any of the "good stuff" like chocolate and ice cream to binge on. I start jonesing for a Coke. As I sit there obsessing, my mouth starts to water and I begin to get agitated. Then I start arguing with myself about whether or not I should get in my car and head out to McDonald's or Dairy Queen for a quick fix. I find it very hard to break free from that obsession without giving in.

I'm struggling to fight the battle right now. I have made the decision to pursue bariatric surgery and am now participating in a medically supervised weight loss program. I have also begun cardiac rehab for 45 minutes, three days a week. I'm still early on in this process so the urges to eat compulsively and the cravings for the carbs and sugars are still strong. I sometimes have to limit my TV viewing at night so that I'm not bombarded with commercials from Taco Bell encouraging me to grab my fourth meal of the day.  I've been trying to redirect my thinking and focus through reading literature that promotes recovery from compulsive overeating and journaling my thoughts and feelings as they come up. I am discovering that I am full of anger, an emotion that I have almost always denied feeling. As I work at trying to stave off the food obsessions, my anger comes bubbling to the surface and I become incredibly uncomfortable, almost to the point of setting off a panic attack. I am frustrated with myself for allowing the food to have so much power over me. Rather than being something to nourish my body, it is a giant monster devouring my soul.

Thankfully, I have a good therapist and am working on building my support system to help guide me through these tumultuous waters. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't afraid of making some changes with regards to my relationship with food. Even though I no longer get that sense of immediate gratification that comes from eating a candy bar, it is still mentally my "go-to"  method to deal with all life circumstances. It is familiar and predictable. I know what happens when I eat; there are no surprises. When I resist the urge to eat, any of a number of things could happen and the uncertainty of that is unsettling to me. Am I willing to ride out the dis-ease? Right now I feel like I'm white knuckling it through the witching hour. This will get better, right? Staying the same is hard. Making changes is hard. It is up to me to choose my hard.