Hi, All,
Checking in from RT. I’d just written a full post but, unfortunately, the hotel Internet connection ran out in the middle and the draft didn’t save. I have to run out now before I can rewrite it, but all is well and I’m taking care of myself amid the fun mayhem that is this convention.
Thanks for all of your comments. I’ve been reading them on my phone. I can feel the support and it makes me smile.
Hope you’re all doing well!
Happy Easter to all who celebrate the day. A belated Happy Passover to my Jewish family members and friends.
It’s a quiet, sunny, lovely day on the harbor at my home. Unfortunately, it’s too windy to take out my now repaired boat, but that’s okay. I have a lot to accomplish today before I go away next week.
I didn’t make big plans for the holiday. In recent years, I cooked dinner and invited friends over for the meal. Not doing that today had less to do with my new way of eating and more to do with the above mentioned “lot to accomplish”. I am, however, going to cook much more of a meal than I have in more than three months. A good friend is caring for a terminally ill loved one. I remember from when my mother was terminally ill how much I appreciated when someone offered to make dinner for us. It was a relief to not have to figure out and prepare a meal.
I’ve been thinking a lot about family holidays the way we celebrated them when I was growing up. No matter what the holiday, dinner was always a big deal — whether Christmas or Easter with a big sit-down meal planned or a 4th of July barbecue. Food, food and more food.
Holidays were also days when I felt like I gained a reprieve from lectures about how much or what I chose to eat. If family members still watched and catalogued what I put on my plate and in my mouth, they kept their opinions to themselves. It was like I had a license to eat on those days, even if I could consume enough to make me sick. License to Ill for sure. I looked forward to those meals all day long — and not just because my mother was a world class cook. Even if we were going to one of my grandmothers (Italian feasts at one house or a succulent roast at the other) the food was always going to be something that I loved and I relished being able to eat.
I never really thought twice about any negative implications of what we put on the table until one fall when my brother was in college. He went away to school and came back a vegetarian and health food fan who was suddenly shopping for clothes at the Salvation Army and making his own granola and yogurt. While he lost his liking for meat products, he didn’t lose his cutting wit. (We both have a healthy vein of smart assedness running through us even now.) I remember him looking at the Thanksgiving table with all of the various dishes and exclaiming with scorn, “Is anybody planning to eat anything other than Starch?”
Looking back, he was right. It probably is overkill to have bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, and candied sweet potatoes at one meal. If we’re going to be truly honest, green bean casserole technically has vegetables in it, but it isn’t one of those healthy concoctions. Ditto on creamed corn.
One year I was on my restrictive, medically-supervised, 9 ounces of protein a day and that’s it, diet on which I lost over 100 pounds. It was so difficult to chew on my six ounces of turkey meat while the sight and scent of all of the other dishes tortured me. I freely admit that I sneaked bites of everything away from everyone else while I helped clear the table after the meal.
So this is my first holiday, post- weight loss surgery. The only focus I’m devoting to food, other than meeting my nutritional needs today, is the meal I’ll assemble for my friend. I’m going to keep a very small portion of it out for my own dinner.
I don’t need to pile up a plate and overfill my stomach in order to celebrate. My holiday today is about treating myself well, acknowledging all of the things for which I am grateful today, and celebrating a good and happy life.
Wishing you all a very happy holiday.
A few years ago, my sister-in-law asked me if I’d ever consider weight loss surgery. I can’t say that I’d never thought of it, but every time it crossed my mind, I immediately rejected the idea. At the time I knew only about lap-band surgery and the gastric bypass. I had no faith that I wouldn’t end up eating around the lap band and I feared the more drastic bypass surgery and the effects I’d heard of with malabsorption of vitamins and the altered digestion process.
I held onto that fear with a nearly unbreakable grip. I honestly cannot say why I was more afraid of the surgery than I was of my super obesity killing me.
As much as I hate how much fatter I got in recent years and the negative impact on my body and emotional well-being, I’m really glad that I reached the point of my own personal wake-up call last summer. My physical condition had steadily decreased for quite some time. There were things I’d once enjoyed that I couldn’t any longer. I felt like crap all of the time. The day that I couldn’t pull myself up the ladder of my boat to get out of the water was the last straw. In that moment I knew that I needed to stop damaging myself and get myself on the road to healing. I was done resisting and began researching gastric bypass surgery. Even though I still feared it, I planned to go ahead despite the fear.
After I made the decision to pursue weight loss surgery, I could view my attitude and fears with a different perspective. I began to see that my resistance was very similar to the way my mom had resisted going to rehab for her alcoholism. Her refusal was the strongest when she was in the worst grip of relapse. Thank God she always reached the point where her walls would break down and she would agree to go.
Mom’s post-rehab recoveries were never perfect, but God love her, she did her best to fight her disease. In her later years, her periods of sobriety were longer and her relapses shorter.
Once I committed to having surgery and then discovered that there was a newer procedure called the Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy, I got pretty gung-ho about the whole thing. I made the decision and, from that point, everything in me focused on making it happen. Now here I am, ten weeks post-op, and I can’t help but look back and wonder why I resisted for so long.
What is it in us that makes us continue to choose destructive, harmful behavior over healthy behaviors that make us well or keep us well? Even with therapy, I don’t understand why I took refuge in overeating instead of facing things without food. The best I can do is that it fulfilled a need and had a purpose. I think at this stage of my life it was also what I knew. The habits of a lifetime were so ingrained that I didn’t know anything else. The devil I knew was somehow more reassuring and it fed my resistance.
I know now that overeating no longer serves a purpose that is in anyway positive. I’m willing to give up the comfortable numbing and dare to face whatever might come at me without the food.
When I was a kid, if someone dared me to do something, I never said no. I temporarily lost that spirt for too many years. Today, I’m daring myself to keep changing. I’m daring myself to get better.
I just learned about the unexpected death of a young co-worker’s father. Many of our long-term management team have known the man for many, many years and the news has rocked them too.
But my mind keeps returning to his daughter, who is in her mid-20s, around the age I was when my Dad died unexpectedly in 1983. That was the single most devastating thing I’d ever experienced and it ripped me apart. In my struggle to cope, I ate. And ate. And continued to eat.
In the couple of years before his death, I’d lost 100 pounds on a medically-supervised, highly restrictive, mostly-protein diet. It sure as hell was a simple plan — 1 oz of protein in the morning, 3 oz of protein at lunch, 5 oz of protein at dinner with a cup of vegetables. Six months before Dad died, I was the thinnest I’d been in my entire adult life.
After his death, I steadily gained back all 100 pounds and over the years continued to add more, in between bouts of weight loss. What a roller coaster.
That was my m.o. I ate to numb my feelings, to anesthetize my pain. Food was my sedative. The heck with limiting myself to comfort food. ALL food comforted me. The despair I felt about packing back on my pounds was a far distant second to the despair over losing my father.
I’ve been on a really even keel for the last four months. Sure, I’ve experienced the occasionally upsetting situation, but with the help of my sleeved stomach and the work I’m doing on my head and emotions, I haven’t needed to run to food for numbing. We had a saying (one of many) in OA that the feelings won’t kill me, but the food will. I’m glad that I’m developing and practicing more effective, less unhealthy, coping mechanisms.
However, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I was suddenly hit with something as devastating as my father’s death. Even if I tried to stuff down the pain with food, I can’t physically handle the necessary volume. Big pain needs a semi-truck’s worth of food to keep it from erupting and blowing me apart.
I believe that I need to be proactive right now and practice when small upsets occur. If I get stressed, angry, annoyed or whatever over something in my life, I will stay conscious and remain in touch with the feelings. I’m strong and capable. I can handle the emotions without numbing myself to the feelings. I will do it without food. The practice will do me good, just in case I get hit with something much bigger. Sure as all get out, running back to food is not an option!
We’re only as sick as our secrets. That’s something else I learned at OA. The idea is that if we air out these things, chase them out into the light of day, we can break their power over us and head toward healing. Every once in a while I second guess myself about being as open about things as I’ve been on this blog. A couple of friends have, in a caring way, asked if I really ought to talk about everything that I share.
When the doubts come, I remind myself that I’m only as sick as my secrets. If there were OA meetings anywhere near where I live, I’d go and discuss all these things in the rooms. I’d probably still blog them, but I know for a fact I’d talk. However, there aren’t any meetings. so this blog is my room.
If the process didn’t feel good, if I didn’t honestly believe that I benefit and grow healthier by sharing, I wouldn’t do it. Sharing relieves me of more of the shame, every single time. The secrets diminish in enormity and power. I become stronger. This blog is good self-care.
Thank you for being the witnesses that listen to my sharing. I’m happy that you’re here, even all of you quiet ones who read and don’t comment. It’s okay. You’ll speak up if you need or want to. That’s totally your choice. Just know that even if you never type a comment, you’re welcome here.
Moving on. 🙂
I had another NSV today. For the first time, when I looked in the mirror, I saw the weight loss in my face. I was so surprised that I stopped rubbing in cleanser and stared. I touched the promise of a cheekbone that I spotted lurking beneath my skin and smiled.
Other than watching the number reduce on my scale and feeling clothes get steadily bigger, I haven’t seen the weight loss — except in my hands and fingers. This morning was a revelation. It felt great. I also know that every morning and every night I’ll look at myself — my growing thinner self — and feel the positive reinforcement of all the effort. My own image will serve as a terrific reminder that I’m making positive progress.
Love it!
Before I hit rock bottom with my compulsive overeating/binge eating and started going to Overeaters Anonymous, I carried around as much shame as I did body fat. There were so many things that I’d done with food or behaviors I’d employed to try to hide my overeating, stuff that I just new nobody normal would even consider.
If someone who was a drug addict or an alcoholic had told me that they’d stolen drugs or that they’d sneaked drinks so nobody saw them drink, I wouldn’t have thought twice. Those behaviors seemed logical to me for addicts. But I, like many, many other people, didn’t really believe that food addiction or any eating disorders were also diseases. I believed that all of the activities that brought me so much shame were the result of my not being able to enforce my own will power.
I lived in terror of someone finding out about my abnormal food behaviors and, even worse, confronting me about them. The shame was a constant presence that I couldn’t walk away from any more than I could leave behind my own skin.
One of the earliest and best lessons I learned in OA was that I was not the only person in the entire known universe who did the things that I did. I was not terminally unique.
I can’t begin to adequately describe my relief. My spirit, so weighed down at that point, lightened immeasurably. More and more people in the OA meetings shared their stories and they’d done so many of the same things. Over time, the shame dissipated. I wasn’t a bad, crazy, awful disgusting person. I was a human being with a problem, a disorder.
Many, many years later, I still feel that glorious freedom and I remind myself time and time again that I’m not terminally unique and this is a very good thing.
I can see by the stats that there are a lot of people dropping by to read these posts, although the vast majority of you do not leave comments. That’s absolutely okay. It’s your choice whether to comment and share your stories. I respect that and honor your anonymity. That said, I believe that some of you are also struggling with eating disorders and it’s possible that you’re dealing with shame of your own about behaviors around room. Maybe you need to hear that you’re not terminally unique, that you aren’t the only one. I thought I’d share some of my past food behaviors as well as some of the things I’ve never done but that I’ve heard shared by others. Hopefully, if you’re in a not-so-great space right now, hearing these will help ease some of your shame, too.
Friends, you are not the only person who has ever . . .
Gone through a fast food drive-through and ordered two drinks so the staff would think you were ordering to feed two or three people.
Sneaked food out of someone else’s refrigerator, freezer, drawer, cabinets or candy dish and eaten it when nobody else was looking.
Faked a conversation with someone else while ordered pizza or some other delivered food, again so it looked like you were ordering for multiple people.
Slept-walked to the kitchen in the middle of the night and eaten food, but had no memory of doing so the next morning, even when you saw the empty wrappers and containers.
Eaten a small, “appropriate” amount of food in front of other people in public, and then gorged on more in private.
Thrown food out, determined to not eat any more and then dug it out of the trash and eaten it any way.
You are also not the only person who weighs so much that you’ve . . .
Had a chair collapse or break under you.
Had to get out of a ride at an amusement park because the safety features wouldn’t close around you
Not been able to climb up into a van or truck without help.
Gotten stuck in a bathtub.
Been unable to adequately “clean” yourself and maintain good hygiene.
Not been able to buckle a seat belt in a car.
Gotten momentarily stuck in a turnstile.
Been unable to have a medical test or scan done because you weighed more than the equipment’s capacity
Been told that they had to buy two seats on an airplane
There are probably 100 more examples I could give that I’ve heard or experienced over the years, but this looks to be a pretty good start. Hope it helps!
It’s time for a reality self-check. I’ve been doing great, even to the point where most of my food choices are automatic and stress-free. I feel terrific. My check-ups at my doctors are excellent. I am consistently happy and excited about every day ahead of me in my future.
I realized today, however, that I do still need to remind myself of certain realities. Even with a miniscule stomach post-surgery, I still have an eating disorder. I am still a compulsive overeater. There is no cure for this disorder. Just like there’s no real cure for alcoholism or drug addiction, I will always be a compulsive overeater. All of my hard work on my mind and emotions, the drastic step of cutting out most of my stomach — these things are tools to help me recover from the behavior of compulsive overeating.
I cannot fool myself into thinking I’m cured and will never eat compulsively again. That mindset will lead me into trouble and relapse. The sleeve gastrectomy might be my most effective tool ever, but it isn’t a fix. I still need to prep, plan and guard against inappropriate use of food.
What lead to this post today? Simple. I went to the health food store to get additional vitamins and another container of the protein powder I like. I browsed the aisles of organic, natural, healthy food and happened upon the chocolate selection.
I love chocolate.
I can have chocolate, but like every other food, only in very small portions. “No problem,” I told myself. I can buy this entire bar and only eat a single square. Nothing to it!”
I was right. I could eat a single square, savoring the lovely chocolate flavor as it melted in my mouth. A single square — what restraint.
It lasted about ten minutes and then I went back for my next single square and, several minutes later, my third. In short, I compulsively returned to my chocolate bar and ate two more servings than planned. Luckily, I successfully put on the brakes before I polished off the entire bar and made myself sick.
Yes. I am still a compulsive overeater and always will be. That is a truth that needs to always be self-evident.
So, what could I have done differently? What can I do so that I don’t repeat this behavior but still give myself permission to enjoy the occasional small piece of chocolate? First thing, the chocolate bar gets stored in the fridge. It was just too easy today to reach into my desk drawer and gobble down another square. It is more difficult to be compulsive when I have to get up out of my chair, leave my office and walk to the building’s kitchen, reach in, open the bar and break off another piece. Secondly, I can limit my purchases to a single piece and not buy the bigger bar in the first place. So, there you go. Two possible strategies I can employ. I feel better for having worked through this and I am definitely not beating myself up about the extra chocolate. Progress not perfection and I already feel back on track.
When I look back on the day, I embrace the experience as a valuable reminder and good lesson. Above all, I’m grateful for the clarity with which I examined my behavior and processed it. That’s a huge improvement and I really am better and healthier as a result.
I didn’t have any deep, dramatic new realizations today about my weight loss surgery, improved body, old relationship with food, new relationship with food or anything else.
It’s kind of cool. What I realized is that in not-quite-ten weeks, a lot of the stuff has become more automatic and common place. I don’t stand in front of my refrigerator in the morning, agonizing over what to eat or what to pack to take to work. I have plenty of choices in the fridge and make my selections in about a minute or less. When it’s time to eat a snack or get out my lunch, I don’t think about foods that I didn’t select or wish for other possibilities.
To live a day like this when food is not an all-consuming obsession is truly remarkable.
I still have a long way to go. I goofed up yesterday and got so caught up in conversation at a picnic that I wasn’t mindful of how quickly I ate. Luckily, I was able to quell the “foamies” and nausea that arose through some slow, steady breathing and avoided throwing up in front of the group. I’m not a pro or veteran of the weight loss surgery journey by any means. But I’m learning and changing in positive ways. I need to remember that it’s all about progress, not perfection.
I’m sure there will be more than several days ahead when I stress again about food choices or resent some aspect of my new life or just hit a rough patch for no discernable reason. I am absolutely positive that I will continue to uncover new realizations, “aha” moments, and all sorts of things that will help me continue to improve my physical, mental and emotional health.
But just for today, everything’s on an even keel. Nothing earth-shattering and that’s more than fine.
It should be really easy to accept a compliment. Two words suffice, “Thank you”.
Not so easy when you’ve spent most of your life feeling like you don’t deserve compliments about your appearance or feel like the person saying something nice about you to you must be delusional, lying to be nice, or out of their ever-loving mind.
Following through on the idea of unconditionally accepting myself, I’m going to work on graciously and sincerely accepting compliments on my improving appearance. I need to stop deflecting by saying things like, “I have so far still to go”. Even if I reply “That’s very kind of you to say”, I can practically hear my unspoken “but you’re wrong” hanging in the air.
All I have to say is “Thank you”. For an articulate woman, this should not be difficult. Even if I’m having a bad moment or not quite feeling worthy, I’m still going to stay thanks. And mean it.
It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the kindness and support shown to me with each and every compliment. It’s just that I’m still repairing the internal emotional wounds.
I think I made some progress earlier today. I went to a picnic of members from the Tai Chi society to which I now also belong. Even though I’m still a beginner and haven’t learned all of the moves and sequences, when the group gathered to do a full set, I took my place with the others who represented a wide range of experience. The folks who have done this set for years encouraged us to participate and keep going even when the group moved beyond the moves that we know. I was really pleased that I could follow along pretty well. At the end of the set, one of the instructors asked if it was my first time. When I said yes, she then complimented me on how well I’d done.
Oh my goodness. A compliment about something I did that involved my body and movement! I started to get all “look down and scuff my foot” about it, but I remembered my earlier resolve and simply said, “Thank you”.
In that moment, it wasn’t as difficult as I feared. I’m going to build on the experience and practice doing it each time I’m complimented. I’m going to a convention in a few weeks and will see several people for the first time since before I had surgery. I know my friends will comment on the weight loss. My attitude about the comments in a choice. I’m going to accept the compliments with grace and, by so doing, accept myself with a little more love each time.
Well my soul checked out missing as I sat listening
To the hours and minutes tickin’ away Yeah just sittin’ around waitin’ for my life to begin While it was all just slippin’ away
I’m tired of waitin’ for tomorrow to come Or that train to come roarin’ ’round the bend
I got a new suit of clothes a pretty red rose And a woman I can call my friend
These are better days baby
Bruce Springsteen
I’ve been on a Bruce kick for the last week. Hah. People who know me best would say I’ve been on a Bruce kick for the last 35 plus years. They’d be right. LOL I had E Street Radio (Sirius and XM satellite) to keep me company today on my drive up and back to Miami (two hours each way) for my two month follow up appointment with my surgeon. It’s hard to believe that Wednesday marked the 9 week anniversary of my surgery! This morning I did my official weekly weigh-in and discovered that I am down 61 pounds!
61 pounds. Wow! That’s like the equivalent of both of my dogs put together! It’s been a lonnnggg time since I’ve lost this much weight. I am now lighter than I’ve been in 15 years. I’m lighter in spirit than I’ve been in longer than I can remember.
After the great weigh-in, the day continued to be great. I dressed in the cute new denim capris I bought last weekend and an embellished red top that I bought last year but never wore because it seemed sort of tight. It fits great now! Even though I don’t see the complete weight loss so far, when I checked in the mirror I knew I looked better than I have in months.
I dropped off two bags of too-big-for-me clothes to the Salvation Army thrift shop. Then before I left town I visited a seamstress who is going to take in two pairs of capri length pants for me. They’re in good shape but bagging off of me. The alterations will help me save money and stretch out my wardrobe through the next several pounds I lose. Woot!
For most of my life, I’ve hated going to doctor appointments. Even though I’ve always known that my excess weight was unhealthy, no, dangerous for me, I still cringed whenever I received a lecture from my doctors. It’s all so different now because I’m doing so well. The surgeon and his staff are warm, supportive people. The surgeon is very pleased with my progress, my test results, and my verbal report of how great I feel. My labs were pretty darned good, too, although I need to add a B complex vitamin and step up my exercise.
My overall cholesterol number has dropped considerably and is in the desirable range, as are my trigylcerides — all without my having taken my medication for cholesterol since before my surgery. My good cholesterol (HDL) is lower than it should be and the LDL number (bad cholesterol) is borderline high. I expect to see these numbers improve as I lose more weight and up my cardio exercise.
The only number that confuses me is the A1C which tracks the “stickiness” of sugar in the blood over recent weeks/months. Considering how little sugar I’ve had in the last two months I was surprised that it still tracked high on the lab results. So, I did more research on the Internet. It turns out that my number is in line with the recommendations of the American Diabetes Association, showing good control. I bet when I see my primary care physician on Tuesday and she compares the newest number with my previous results, we’ll find that it’s come down. My daily glucose readings have steadily dropped, too. This is all without taking the blood sugar meds, too. Booyah! Better days, indeed.
My surgeon’s offices are in the same building as a gorgeous Whole Foods. We don’t have a WF in the Keys, so I love the opportunity to go in and browse. Since I’d packed a cooler for the trip, so I could keep water and snacks I’d need to eat nice and cool for the drive, I also knew that I could bring home some yummy food safely. I bought some fresh mozarella, some of their fresh prepared dinner items and beet salad from their food bars, a single cookie, a gorgeous artichoke that I’ll steam and eat tomorrow night, and a beautiful, colorful bouquet of miniature roses. As soon as I got home, I put the flowers in a vase and placed them on my dining room table so I can see them while I write or watch tv or surf the Internet. I enjoyed some of the food for dinner and, even though I didn’t buy a lot, I have plenty for a couple more meals.
On the way home from Miami, Springsteen’s song These are Better Days played. I listened to the lyrics, particularly the ones that I excerpted above, and thought about how they apply to me. I spent a long time miserable in my super obesity, waiting for me to motivate myself while time kept ticking away. I got tired of waiting and took positive action. Today, I put on new clothes, and bought myself roses. As a woman, I’m being a better friend to myself. These are better days.
Weighty Matters 