A Head Case Playing Mind Games.....

It's been awhile since I've posted an update.  I sort of felt like after doing the catch up stories of my past history of being an obese person in society I was left with the proverbial, "Now what?".  But since then, things have been happening for me.  Good things, and challenging things.  So this will be sort of a   catch all catch up post to clue you in to where I am in my journey to getting healthier and moving on with my great but potentially more fabulous life.

We'll start with the challenging things.  Like many people who are trying to change long ingrained behaviors, I've had periods where the healthier behaviors are easy to practice, and times when it's much harder.  I've recently had a period where it was harder.  I started making choices around food that were "easier" (i.e.: poorer choices).  That meant more convenience foods which inevitably led me to start eating foods that were more processed and less healthy for me and DEFINITELY detrimental towards my long term health goals.   And because I'm not sure I've done it before, I am going to put my health goal out into the cyber world in specific measurable terms.  In talking with my therapist he stated that a Goal is just a dream with a deadline.  And to that effect, I have set the goal that I will be ready to start having joint replacement surgery by October 1, 2013.  And in pure mathematical terms that means I have to lose 114lbs by October 1, 2013.  I don't put that out into the universe a great deal because even saying it out loud let alone putting in writing somehow feels quite daunting.   I need to have both of my knees and my left hip replaced due to an auto-immune inflammatory condition that's like Rheumatoid Arthritis.  I feel like someone who has climbed up a mountain with ski's strapped to my backpack and have made it to the top (losing 100lbs so far) only to have to make the leap of faith and strap my skis on and go flying down the mountain.  So while putting specific time lines and end dates onto something like this is good because it makes things more concrete, it also makes it rather REAL.  I don't know about you but if you've ever had a substantial weight problem, getting to a goal like this could be come something without boarders and definitions and enables you to spend your whole life focusing on this one thing which closes off a whole myriad of other life experiences that are available.  The potential downside however is that it can be a gigantic set up for feeling like a complete failure.  When discussing this idea with my therapist I was careful to clarify that the point of this goal is not to get 95% of the way there and then on October 1st say, "Well I didn't make it I guess that makes me a total fuck up!"  Hardly.  What I endeavor for it to do is hopefully keep me focused on seeing each day as an opportunity to not at all deny myself food (how I might see it in my mind) but to move closer to this wonderful goal of getting to have a fully functioning pain free body.  That would be a body I haven't known since 1994, when I was in college and my left hip was deteriorating and I was in an incredible amount of pain.  I realize that I have spent a great amount of my life before this particular journey in black and white thinking.  If I don't look like Jennifer Connelly I don't want to try at all.  If I can't win I don't want to play sort of things.  If I eat 2 oz more chicken at dinner, screw it, I'm going to eat an entire cheesecake.  So by choosing this date, and making my HEALTH a priority as opposed to trying to look hot in a pair of blue jeans, I'm trying to change my thinking.  I'm trying to change and realize that my food choices can be placed into two categories:  Does what I'm about to eat get me a) closer to, or b) farther from, the life I want to be living for myself?  Rather than making foods good or bad, this seems like a much more helpful perspective for me to have.

So a few weeks ago I found my self making choices about food from the above option "b".  I was sitting in a gas station parking lot having just gone into the quick mart and purchased some food that has longer than normal shelf lives, i.e., processed junk food.  And I hadn't called my sponsor in awhile which I think contributed to where I found myself.  I found myself simultaneously knowing that I probably shouldn't be about to eat what I'd purchased and yet completely driven to do so.  (If you've EVER struggled with addiction, you might understand that feeling).  So I called my sponsor on the phone, in that parking lot, and we had a very interesting conversation.   She helped me understand why eating what I'd purchased could be deadly for me in the long term.  Like an alcoholic, I may very well be able to have a drink that doesn't lead to a full blown relapse, but it's playing a dangerous game of Russian Roulette, I don't know that it WON'T lead to a relapse either.  But the most amazing thing she said during all her support and encouragement for me to NOT eat what I'd bought was this, "Whether you eat this food or not, I love you anyway."  And for some reason THAT statement stuck in my mind and had a transformative effect.  While I did ended up eating the food that I'd purchased, the desire to stay in the pattern that I had been in for about a month, was no longer there.  This conversation that I had occurred on a Saturday, and Sunday morning I woke up and began a great deal of contrary actions that have enabled me to make progress towards the goal of having a life that I want.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, what I realized is that, just like it says in the Big Book of AA, you really can't think your way into right acting, you have to act your way into right thinking.  And it's so true.  And like a lot of things, I sometimes wish it didn't take quite as long for me to learn the lessons that I need to learn in my life.  But I guess that's like wishing I wasn't a brunette, or Irish; wishing it won't make it true.  And so I just tried to remained focused on being grateful for the willingness AND ability to do the footwork for the 24 hours ahead of me.  For someone who needs to still lose 100lbs after having already done so, doing the whole, "One Day at a Time" thing sometimes feels like the hardest thing I've got to do in a day.  I realized also that the physical weight on my body isn't the worst effect of choosing foods that don't serve me.  It's the mental baggage that comes along with it.  Normal eaters don't beat themselves up for days on end for making a mediocre or bad food choice.  The self-hatred, apathy, self-pity and mental paralysis that comes along with me eating foods that don't agree with me, has become way more of a problem than gaining 15lbs.  Those are the mind games that are so dangerous in dealing with food issues in my life.  It's the head games that will get me.

So I now find myself endeavoring to live life one day at a time, as imperfectly as it inevitably happens in the real world, and enjoying my life a great deal more than I was a month ago.  That does not mean it's going the way I'd prefer it to.  And changing the way I'm trying to approach my day to day relationship with food, health and the process of getting qualified to surgery, I'm finding some of my long lost natural optimism.  And for me "focusing on the goal" within the context of working a Twelve Step program just means asking for the help of my Higher Power for the ability to make the best possible choices in the 24 hour period I'm in today.  Knowing that eating certain foods makes it harder for me to be an increasingly joyful member of the world at large.

And now for the good things.  Because I'm on permanent disability due to my joint problems, I found myself with a great deal of time off during the day.  It led me to spending a great deal of time awake late at night and sleeping a lot during the day and not liking myself in the process.  And as I began to get more activity in my daily life I decided that I needed something to give me a sense of purpose and being of service to ANYTHING.  So after some thought I decided to start volunteering at the Sacramento SPCA.  This is a great organization that works for the health and welfare of the animals who are homeless and neglected in Sacramento County.  They receive no government funding and do an incredible amount of work with limited resources.  So for now I'm working 8 hours a week helping to get appointments set in their high volume Spay and Neuter clinic.  It's made my life fuller and I'm much happier getting out and doing something.  If you'd like to check out the great work that they're doing at the SPCA, check out the Sacramento chapter's website, www.sspca.org.

The other thing that I've done is to join a new group that is dedicated to helping end the obsession with food and weight.  It's called Beyond Hunger.  I found out about it from a wonderful friend of mine, (You know who you are <3 ) and I investigated it because she seems to have acquired a genuine comfort in her own skin, that has nothing to do with outside appearances, don't get me wrong, she's gorgeous and awesome, but she inspired me to look at how I felt about myself in relation to my body.  As I've said in previous posts, one thing I'd like in my life very much is to be in a romantic relationship.  And I've discounted my worthiness for that very thing purely based on my weight.  And so many friends, my therapist, and others have said that my perception is for lack of a better word, CRAP.  And intellectually, I know they're right.  But in my heart, I truly believe that despite ALL the other things that are good and also imperfect about myself, my weight automatically makes my undesirable  and unacceptable.  I think I decided that the best way to prevent rejection is just to take my toys out of the dating sandbox so to speak.  And my relationship with my body plays such a huge part of my living a smaller life than I want, and am slowly beginning to believe I deserve.   So I joined this group and have started the process of trying to rewire my brain and replace the judgement and self hatred with honesty, self love and compassion.  I've heard it said in 12 step meetings when trying to figure out a way to become  a "normal" whatever; that you can't turn a Volvo into a Porsche.  And that's sort of how I feel about changing my mindset regarding to loving my body WITHOUT placing conditions of weight loss on that self love.  But to paraphrase a line in the Big Book, "The surest way to block off spiritual progress is contempt prior to investigation".  So I'm endeavoring to have an open mind, and open heart, and allow the process to work in and thru me so that by the time I'm ready to have my joints replaced, my body size will just be another part of who I am.  No more or less important than the other qualities I have.

As you've no doubt heard, it's an inside job.  And for me the most significant work is occurring between my ears these days.  After my first meeting of the Beyond Hunger group I felt like I'd been buffed head to toe in 40 grit sandpaper.  And that was when I knew I was in the right place.

I wish for everyone a great holiday season.  Filled with LOVE, LAUGHTER, HUMOR and PEACE. This will be the second season our family is having the holidays without my mom, and it's very bitter sweet.  But as long as we're together, she'll be there too.  I hope that whether you're with your family of origin, or family of choice, you remember what I've learned, that gratitude is the best gift to give yourself.

Thanks again for being witnesses to my journey.  I'll see you in 2013!

Attack of the Mini-Huni's, and the CHOICE of Gratitude

So just the other day, okay it was actually yesterday, I was sitting in my therapist's office.  I go to this place because I find that I'm able to unwind the "tangled Christmas Lights" that are my thoughts with some sense of grace and with my essential sense of humor in tact.  Yesterday was one of those days I was taking myself WAY TOO SERIOUSLY.  Do you ever have one of those days?  Trying to be not only the director but also the lead actress in the drama of your life.  I see my mental guru at 2:30 once a week and trust me when I say that I was fairly exhausted and annoyed with myself.  I was overly emotional and also choosing to focus WAY more on everything that wasn't going well, what I was doing wrong, and how crappy I thought I was.  I'm such a hot date, right?  I went into my weekly session convinced that I was a bad person, and just was hating myself at 2:30pm.

As we began to untangle my string of lights, I was being gently reminded that I wasn't exactly in the same place that I was just a year ago.  October the 3rd is a significant date for me because on this date one year ago, I began the liquid diet program of the medical weight loss program that I continue to participate in today.  As we talked, I began to reluctantly unfold from my origami sculpture of negativity and was asked to reflect on things that were different from this time last year.  Was I happier?     YES.  Was I healthier?  YES. Was I doing more in my day to day life?  YES.  Was I 100lbs lighter?  YES.  You would think after considering the evidence I would immediately snap out of my snark-fest and just be happier.  But I am a tough nut to crack, and I kept trying to convince my therapist that I DESERVED the pity party that I was throwing in my own honor.  He then made some comment about not being taken captive by the Mini-Huni's.  I erupted into giggles that I couldn't avoid despite my desperate attempts to take myself seriously.  Mini-Huni's?  I'd never heard of them.  My therapist explained that Mini-Huni's are Hawaiian leprechauns.  Leprechaun's you say?  I'm 75% Irish, so say no more, I get the vision of a leprechaun.  My therapist explained that my thoughts were like a hoard of mischievous Mini-Huni's who were trying to reek havoc in the more well intentioned parts of my life.  They were running around, giggling, throwing shame and negativity around like confetti, trying to get me distracted from the true work I was trying to accomplish.  Confetti is an annoyance, but not a game stopper.  It's not a game stopper IF I DON'T LET IT BE ONE.   I understood intellectually what he was driving at but it had not seeped into my heart.  I left feeling a little bit better but not wholly convinced that I should not be paying more attention to the Mini-Huni's than I already was.

So today I woke up had to go to a doctor's appointment, and when I got home I got online and read one of my favorite blogs:  www.wantadumpsterbaby.com.  Today she was celebrating 11 years sobriety from alcohol.  Her positivity is infectious and she shared a gratitude list that she uses as her base of gratitude every day.  She reminded me of a super important idea, that gratitude just like picking up foods, or even engaging in battle with the Mini-Huni's IS A CHOICE.  You ever have that experience where you hear something for possibly the 100th time and NOTHING happens and then all of a sudden CLICK!  You get it".  Well in reading her great post about what being 11 years sober looks like,  I got that gratitude, just like even the first compulsive bite, IS A CHOICE.  While I may very well be powerless after the first compulsive bite, I can chose if and when I take the first compulsive bite.   I can also chose if and how long I let the Mini-Huni's run the show.   Gratitude is not just something that I get delivered to magically as if deposited on a magic island.  I can chose to see that I've come as far as I have.  I can chose to see that I GET to be in recovery today, not that I HAVE to.  I'm not entirely sure why it made sense today, or why I put it into practice today, but I got it.  I'm super glad.  Because it makes life for not only myself but those around me a whole lot more enjoyable.

So for today, the Mini-Huni's are in their proper place.  Tomorrow, who knows?  But I do know that I can wake up tomorrow as I prepare to go to the DMV to renew my driver's license and CHOSE to be glad that the weather's cooler, that I have great friends, that I have family that loves me even if they occasionally get frustrated by me.  I can chose to be calm and patient in the DMV office, and if I can just get that far, I bet the Mini-Huni's will go find someone else to harass for the day.

One can only hope. I've seen enough of them in the past couple of weeks.

Thanks for reading.

The Experience of Joyfully Living in The NOW.

Hey there my friends!  Most of you know that I've been off the technology reservation for a while as I had a rather emergent removal of my gall bladder that included a 4 day stay in the hospital.  I will say, overall it was not an awful experience, with the exception of the pain between the surgery and the endoscopy needed to remove a wayward gall stone that was stuck.  I have to emphasize that NURSES ARE THE GLUE THAT HOLD THE HOSPITAL WORLD TOGETHER!  I have much respect for the physicians who did the surgery and other procedures, but as far as the day to day comfort, pillow fluffing, pain medication dispensing and general bolstering of my spirits when I was on day 2 1/2 of nothing my mouth water included; it was the nurses who insured my sanity as well as the coverage of my derriere when I started walking around the ward post surgery.  Save one nurse who had a verbal confrontation with my very worried 80 year old dad, ALL of the nurses were wonderful, humorous and deeply concerned with my physical and emotional comfort.  I'm sure you've all seen the bumper stickers that say, "If you love your freedom, thank a VET."  I have a new one to produce, "If you love your health, thank a nurse."  I have so much gratitude for how they made my first ever hospital stay as painless as possible.

Now that I'm home and getting back to my usual life, I thought it was about time to do another post.  And because I've pretty much caught people up on the back history of my growing up as a morbidly obese youngster, teenager, young adult, and now not-so young adult;  I'm now embarking on writing about the CURRENT journey.  I've lost a lot of weight, more than once.  What I'm constantly amazed by is how different the experiences have been each time.  Twelve years ago, when I originally came into recovery I lost 189lbs in about two years and at the time my brain was not moving as fast as the scale was going down.  There's a slogan in recovery, "Came for the vanity, stayed for the sanity".  And the first time I lost a great deal of weight, it was about what I was going to look like, and how fabulous my life would be when I got "there".  And as anyone who has embarked on a significant life change of any kind knows, RARELY if EVER, does "there" meet the expectations we place upon it in our heads. And I had also bought into the misconception that I couldn't really be happy UNTIL I got.  So while I was putting forth a great deal of effort to change very ingrained behaviors, I thought that I had to almost literally suffer through the process.  If I wasn't struggling in angst and borderline martyrdom, I wasn't working hard enough toward the goal.  I grew up with a mom who literally said out loud to herself, but also to other's around her, "I'll be happy when I'm thin."  That comment presupposes that if one is currently not thin, they are not happy.  And I believed that concept to be true for a very long time.

As I've said before, one of the great experiences of becoming part of Twelve Step recovery was finding an entire community of people who were happy WHILE working towards attain a healthy body weight for them.  And so while I saw these people who were happy, and I was certainly making great progress towards a more authentic level of happiness in my own life, I was so happy purely because I'd found such a loving and accepting community of people who so intimately understood the pain of being a compulsive overeating.  As it says in the Twelve Step literature, identification with others often is the most powerful component of the recovery process.  It certainly was in my experience.

Fast forward a decade, and I've had lot's of success and recovery, along with taking my own will back which resulted in gaining back all the weight I'd lost.  When I came back into the recovery rooms in July 2011, I'd also started seeing a great therapist who was rather adamant regarding the idea that I could be happy NOW.  I was over 400lbs, having to use a wheelchair because I need both my knees replaced, living with my parents because I'd lost my job and on permanent disability, living what I believed to be a VERY small life.  I was encouraged to consider the concept that the whole point of recovery wasn't just to put down the substance that was simultaneously irresistible and destructive, but to find things that are enjoyable and interesting to me.  And for someone who has spent a great deal of my life consumed with the idea of losing weight and how great life will be WHEN I got there, I intellectually have a very hard time buying into the concept of being happy in the moment. I say that in the present tense because after a year of being focused on physical/emotional/spiritual recovery, I feel like I'm still struggling with this idea.  I am once again aware that my intelligence certainly can be a hinderance in my recovery.

So in the past year, as I was very focused on my goal, I became acutely aware of how lopsided my thinking was when it came to my weight.  If someone I haven't talked to in a while asks me how I'm doing, my instinctive response was to go into a detailed discussion of how much weight I've lost,, (because that makes me a better person right?) and how I'm progressing towards my goal of being able to get my knees replaced.  And like so many things I've experienced in my life, when the universe wants to provide you with a lesson, you will keep getting that lesson, OVER AND OVER until you've sufficiently absorbed the intended message.  My therapist suggested that I undertake a hobby or activity that was group oriented that would help me to break out of the isolation that had become a crutch and a curse in my every day life.  After some thinking and no small amount of resistance I joined a choir at a church that I felt a lovely family-spirited connection to.  It has turned out to be a great experience and an opportunity to sing, which I've enjoyed in the past, as well as be in a place where I can naturally spread my spiritual wings.

I'm more aware than ever that I have arrived at a place where I use my size and my weight as the defining characteristic when I think of myself in the world.  It's always been a negative connotation because I was so overweight, and the easiest reason to feel like I was "less than".  I am also aware that I need to be willing to let go of the old thinking that says I am primarily defined by how I look, rather than who I am as a person.  My intelligence, humor, compassion, ability to be a good friend, daughter and sister SHOULD account for so much more than the weight on the scale or the size written on the tag in the back of my pants. And yet it frequently doesn't.   I have also recently become aware that it's not solely society's fault that I buy into thinking like that.  I am a big fan of personal responsibility, on lots of levels.  And if I am going to be a fan of that concept, it certainly should apply to me.  And while society's view of overweight people isn't exactly helpful, as I believe that Compulsive Overeating is an eating disorder just like anorexia or bulimia, but not treated that way by society and the medical community, that's NOT a good enough reason for me to remain stuck in thinking that no longer serves me today.  The same goes for fashion magazines, reality television and other forms of severely superficial mainstream media.  Now that I'm aware of the overwhelming prevalence that thinking has in my day to day life, I have a choice about how much energy I give to it, and how much work I do towards deconstructing those thought patterns.  THANK GOD for my support system; meetings, sponsor, program friends, therapist, support group members, and lots of good friends who remind me that I am lovable just as I am, today.  It gives me the willingness to stay diligent on the path of truly learning to find joy in living in my body and my life TODAY.  It will be the only way that I will be able to reach my goals, whether those goals have to do with my weight or my life in general.

It continues to be a very interesting journey.  Thanks for coming along.

Missing the Forrest for the Trees......

I don't know about you, but every once in a while, I like to wind  myself up in a good old fashioned snit.  I'm not quite sure why, but it just feels good to get completely wound up in a topic that trends towards the unimportant or ridiculous.  Recently I have found myself getting wound up in the lives of people that I know, and am even fairly close to.  I'm writing about this because I have discovered through some introspection and help from outside sources, that this "activity" directly relates to myself and my journey as an overweight person who is trying to morph into a someone living in a normal sized body.  Doesn't quite make sense?  Let me explain......

Growing up as an obese child, adolescent and young adult...the goals I set for myself ranged from the weak to the downright non-existent.  Because I was most definitely a compulsive overeater from probably the age of about 12 years old, I didn't understand why I was so perpetually unsuccessful at trying to manage something that I've only recently realized that I was powerless over.  Sort of like a surfer trying to control the waves of the ocean.   I thought my eating was something I "SHOULD" be able to get a grasp on, and was certainly told many times, by many different sources that if I just had enough "willpower" and was "disciplined" enough, I should be able to put the food down.  As I amassed ample evidence in my own life of my failure in controlling my weight, I think there was a part of me that just thought that having goals was a fruitless endeavor.  If I couldn't conquer this one seemingly basic task, why try and reach for anything bigger, better and higher.  Striving for mediocrity became the best case scenario for me.  I certainly approached my academics this way, along with other areas of my life.  It certainly became the not so rose colored lenses through which I viewed myself.

As a way to compensate for this rather depressing situation, I developed a coping skill of becoming overly focused on the lives of my friends.  In retrospect I think it was for the simple reason that they had the lives that I wanted, more than I wanted the life I had of my own.  It became easier to become immeshed in their romantic lives and their drama, because it not only allowed me to vicariously live through their excitement, but it also allowed me to ignore what was wrong in my own life.  I was always ready and willing to ask deep and probing and seemingly endless questions of my friends to get even the most minute detail of an adventure from them.  I would use these seeds of excitement to engage in my own fantasy life, while never having to do any concrete footwork towards developing my own exciting life.  While I truly believe it filled a vital need at the time, it certainly was also a double edged sword that I would eventually have to fall on.

Interestingly enough, as I entered into recovery, and began to look at my own life and its' complexities, I found my friend were genuinely pleased that I had started talking about what was going on in my life. They apparently had been patiently waiting for me to start doing my own thing, and they were nothing but supportive in my speaking up.  It was NOT a comfortable place for me to be a great deal of the time.  My internal self-centeredness had left me unable to distinguish between open and honest sharing of my life versus being a conversation monopolizer.  I thought if I talked about myself and what I was going through, that I was being "selfish" or "self-centered".   It has taken me a great deal of time and consideration to realize that while it's entirely possible to monopolize conversations on occasion, it's a normal part of the give and take of long-term friendships. And while I genuinely DO want to know what's going on in the lives of my close friends, it can also be perceived as selfish if my interest is based on my on need to focus and fantasize on how great "their" lives are.  It does not allow me to be a fully present listener at certain times.  A trait I've caught myself in more than once.

Coming back into recovery in 2011, after the passing of my mom, I was blessed to find a WONDERFUL therapist who has extensive experience in psychology and recovery and just has a genuinely loving ability to call me on my shit when necessary.  In the course of our getting to the meat of things, I was told what may be one of the most important things I've heard in the past year, "The problem with addiction is not necessarily that you're abusing X, Y, or Z substances.  It's the bigger life that you give up because you're pursuing your drug of choice to the exclusion of everything else.  Recovery is about having a FULLER, BROADER, MORE DIVERSE life."   WOW!  There it was. My conundrum in a nut shell.  I had been using food, and chasing food, to the exclusion of many life experiences that people of my age have typically had by now.  When my therapist first mentioned this idea to me, I took it in at the cerebral level like I am typically want to do.  But like a great deal of things in my life, it has taken a bit of time for that concept to go from my head into my heart and soul.  The greatest distance between two points for me is often the distance between getting an idea from my brain to my gut.  I certainly wish the journey could be quicker, but hey, it takes what it takes.  But understanding that concept has been a huge catalyst for me in the current portion of my journey.

When your life has been completely focused on ONE thing to the exclusion of everything else, how to you even begin to IMAGINE bringing different things in.  For me, the ONE thing has been food, and not just food but my overwhelming preoccupation with the size of my body and my place in the world framed by my body size.   I was asked by my therapist to start looking into some hobbies that weren't related to food in any way, and you would had thought I'd been asked to cure cancer while traveling to Mars.   Something other than getting thin, what I'm going to do once I'm thin, planning how fabulous my life will be WHEN I'm thin, and all the great things I'll get to do once I'm THERE.  And it's only been after the gentle repetition of counseling that I'm becoming more and more acutely aware of just how much that thinking has organized my life.  Because there are certain physical limitations that I have due to the stress my weight has placed on my body, some future thinking is warranted.  But there is an organic sadness sitting on me as I look back at all the wasted time, the experiences I haven't felt I deserved, and the life I didn't think I was worth.  It's certainly not pretty to look at under bright lights, but the fact that I'm even conscious of how much I've limited myself in the past is I believe a sign of progress.

I've recently found myself back into that place of obsessing about a friend of mine, and their life and what I think they SHOULD be doing with it.  And I can honestly say I'm grateful that the voice of my therapist pops into my head and gently encourages me to "Get my own life".  Once again, consciousness is a great thing, if not always comfortable.  I know that I'm on the path and will eventually get to the point where I will be able to have a more concrete picture of where I want my life to go, and what I want it to look like, beyond the size of my butt.  And so the journey continues.....

It's a Long Way Down to The Bottom

Returning to my home environment was a nerve wracking process for me.  I'd never been out of my home town of Sacramento that long before, and I sort of felt like I was returning from a trip from outer space.  Before leaving the treatment center, we had to schedule appointments with our primary care physician, a registered dietitian and a psychiatrist and/or counselor.  I had not been in therapy before I'd left for treatment so I had to start treatment with a doctor brand new upon my return.  I selected a psychiatrist and called and talked with a doctor over the phone who said that he would be willing to meet with me.  He sent me the introductory paperwork to fill out and we scheduled a time to meet.  Once I met him I decided because he could do medications as well as therapy, he would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone.  Because I was returning back to work, I needed to insure I could have as few disruptions as possible.

My return to work was chaotic to say the least.  I decided to return to a full day's work the day I came back I had my first major anxiety attack by noon.  I'd never been someone who had to deal with anxiety in a major way before, so I was completely shocked to have an attack that left me feeling like my heart was going to jump out of my skin, as well as being unable to control my crying and fear.  I left work and was able to get an early appointment to meet with my new psychiatrist who gave me some medication and suggested that I do a half day or work and then build up to full 8 hour days.

I realized upon my return that divulging the reason for my medical leave was a risk that I don't know I'd take if I had a chance to do it over again.  When your mental health is the reason for taking a medical leave, having people knowing that when you come back to work left me in an incredibly vulnerable place.  It's so strange the way we continue to view with mental health issues in our society today.  If I had broken my arm, or had a surgery of any type, my returning to work would be proof enough that I had recovered.  Upon my return I found myself being questioned about my "health" with all good intentions by my direct boss.  I don't believe there was any malicious intent behind it, but I began to immediately regret telling my boss where I was during my leave once I was back on the job.  It left me feeling INCREDIBLY INSECURE AND VULNERABLE.  I think they were worried I was going to crack under any sort of pressure, and knowing that just made me more self-conscious.  I tend to be someone who wears my heart on my sleeve and I will divulge things about myself and THEN regret having open my mouth about something.  This was an acutely vivid example of this.  Having a substantial panic attack the first day I returned to my job was not exactly a way to instill confidence to my employer, but I just had to suit up, show up and get back into the work.

As defined by Overeaters Anonymous, abstinence is "refraining from compulsive overeating".  Even after 52 days of intense in and outpatient treatment I was not able to remain abstinent for any significant period of time.  It was heartbreaking and frustrating that even though I had been through what most people would think would be a significant bottom of leaving my life and going into a hospital, I couldn't put the food down.  Within approximately 6 months of returning to my home, I was basically in full blown relapse again.  I was in active therapy, meeting with a registered dietitian, and going to twelve step meetings but I was still using food to alleviate any emotional turmoil that I was experiencing; whether those emotions were good or bad.

I have to say when I look back at things,  I was once again placed into a position where I wanted to be "fine" for other people, as well as myself.  Growing up in the family I did, where we were expected to put a smile on our faces when leaving the house, I began to feel like that was acutely necessary again.  I didn't want people to think that I was the "mental case" who couldn't handle my life, even if that was indeed the case for a brief period of time.  In addition to wanting people to think that things were fine, I also actually wanted things to be fine.  I didn't want to be feeling bad, anxious or uncomfortable in my own skin.  And that is the part of addiction that I feel is so insidious and cruel.  WANTING to put an addiction down is not enough.  NEEDING to put the addiction down, is not enough.  LOSING things that you hold dear in your life is not enough to put the addiction down.  Doing the mental gymnastics to try and figure out what will be enough for someone to put the addiction down often turns out to be a futile endeavor that wastes time and leaves the person feeling life a failure.  When looking at addiction, the thing that gets a person to put down the thing that is killing them is different for everyone.  And what is truly frustrating for myself as a compulsive overeater is how the majority of society continues view food as different from drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or anything else that is traditionally viewed as an addiction.  I can't tell you how many times I've heard in a Twelve Step meeting that it would be easier to be addicted to ANYTHING else, other than food.  It is just like any other addiction once you get hooked, the physical allergy to food creates a mental obsession that tells you "I MUST HAVE MORE" of the very thing that is ruining your life.  A frequent slogan heard in all twelve step meetings is, "One is too many and a thousand is never enough".  It certainly rang true for me when it came to food.  Compulsive overeating is NOT a moral issue, and for many it's not a matter of will power, strength or even choice.  Like I heard someone say at a meeting.  Dancing with an addiction is like dancing with a gorilla, you may start out leading, but eventually the gorilla decided when your done dancing.  And unfortunately my gorilla was no where near done dancing with me yet.

A Story Without a Catchy Title......about Treatment.

Now I'm going to share about when I decided to go into an eating disorder treatment center.  And for once I'm without a snappy intro or a funny line.  For once, I've.Got.Nothing.  I want to share this part of my journey because if I begin to keep things secret, it means I'm embarrassed or ashamed of something I've been through.  I'm working very hard on letting that sort of thinking go.

So in 2005 I was in my first full year of being a supervisor, and was struggling with the new responsibilities and duties of my job.  Being responsible for my self in the work place was never a problem.  Being responsible for the efforts and motivations of others and the production of a department of 8, that's a horse of an entirely different color.  I was certainly using food as a crutch to handle stress, anxiety and the fear that despite all my fervent attempts at people pleasing.  As I desperately tried to keep my fingers in the dam, the overwhelming depression that I had experienced in college was beginning to rear it's ugly head.   I was pretty much doing NOTHING other than working, and going to my apartment after work and eating large amounts of binge foods as a way to relieve the pressure cooker of stress and anxiety that was brewing.  The damn finally broke one weekend when two people  in my recovery community  were working at my house to help me break out of my isolation, and when one of them had the gentle care about them to ask me, "How are you doing?", I just completely lost it.  After 45 minutes of crying it was apparent to me that possibly drastic measures would be necessary.  After some serious thought, and consultation with trusted member's of my support network at the time, I made the decision that it would be necessary to take a leave of absence from my work and seek intensive inpatient treatment for my depression and also help handling my compulsive overeating.  That meant deciding to check myself into an eating disorder treatment center.

Someone I knew had recently had received successful treatment at a facility that was located in Southern California, and for lack of better options I researched that facility as a possible option.  The only other facility that I was considering was located in Florida and due to my weight, I was not prepared to undertake air travel to get to a facility.  After speaking with an intake coordinator at the facility which was located in Ventura County, I made the decision that I would check into the facility on the following Wednesday.  The day I made the decision was on Thursday.  When I called my parents to let them know what was going on and what I the action plan that I had prepared, the only words that I received were words of encouragement.  I will forever be grateful for their IMMEDIATELY supportive response.  They told me to do what I needed to do, and if my insurance would not cover the treatment they stated they were prepared to take a mortgage on their FULLY paid for home, to assist in making sure I received the help I needed.  I don't discount their tremendous gift of generosity.  I also made the decision to tell my boss ONLY what was required by law, which was that I was taking a medical leave and that I would be gone from work for at least a month.  She was surprised by my announcement but was very respectful.

I had given the women who had been at my house the permission to share with the recovery community that I was seeking inpatient treatment and would be leaving town for a rather prolonged time.  The supportive response I received was truly wonderful.  A couple who attended meetings together graciously offered to foster adopt my 9 year old kitty Maya.  They were true kitty lovers and lived quite close to my apartment and I knew that she would be well taken care of and possibly spoiled to the point where she might not want to come home with me when I returned.  Many people asked me what they could do to offer support and I just asked for good thoughts and that I would let them know after I'd had a chance to get settled.  On a Monday morning, after kissing my beloved fur child the day before when she was picked up for foster care, and having a friend hang out with me all day before to provide support and encouragement, I got in my car and began the journey.

Upon getting to the facility I was rather surprised to find it located in a somewhat residential neighborhood.  I discovered when I arrived that I had decided to check in on the day that the treatment team did their  team meetings and so to say that the staff was a bit scattered was an understatement.  I was shown around, met with the intake person who did a brief interview and then given one of the most thorough medical exams that I'd ever received.  It may or may not surprise people to learn that being a compulsive overeater is not a sufficient diagnosis to be admitted for inpatient treatment at an eating disorder treatment facility.  What got me admitted was a diagnosis of major depressive disorder, which qualified me for inpatient support.  The first night I was sleeping in a bed in a room with other girls for the first time in my life, I was homesick, scared, and totally convinced that I wasn't really as bad off as I thought I'd been.  Little did I know the journey that lay ahead.

For someone who lived with my parent's during college, being in this treatment center was my first opportunity to be living in a communal situation with other people, who were primarily young women. Because I was choosing to check in during the summer, I didn't realize that many young women would be there because they were on break from college.  I felt like I was 20 years old.  Learning to coexist with others was a very positive opportunity for me.  I learned a lot.

One of the overriding emotions that came up when I was admitted was insecurity.  Because 95% of the patients who were receiving treatment were suffering from anorexia or bulimia, and were extremely thin, I immediately began to feel like I didn't deserve to be there.  After expressing my feelings to the counselor that would be my small group counselor, she put me on the spot to share my feelings to the group that I would be participating in daily.  I just felt acutely insecure and vulnerable, which in retrospect I learned is a good place to be if you're looking for significant change.

After consulting with the psychiatrist on staff, I was placed on a dose of antidepressant medication that began to help me out of my malaise.  Daily therapy and group sessions made for full days and challenges.  One of the things that drew me to this facility was their use of the 12 Steps as the foundation of recovery.  My first big writing assignment was to do a first step examining my powerlessness over food and the unmanageable state of my life.  After writing it, I was required to share it with the group.  My aversion to verbal confrontation that I had developed at home because of my parent's constant arguing was put to the test living with people who were seeking help mental health issues as well as potentially life threatening eating disorders.  It was a truly educational experience and that's all I'm going to say about it because specific detail I don't feel is necessary.

Because I had previous experience with 12 Step recovery I felt grateful to feel a bit ahead of the game.  I also had a built in support group at home waiting for me who OVERWHELMED me by sending cards and letters of support.  My fellow patients thought I was special in some regard because after I told a member of the fellowship that getting mail could be the most helpful thing, I believe I received 2-3 letters every other day at least while I was in my inpatient phase of treatment.  I also received some photo post cards from my kitty's foster family, showing her lounging around and looking rather unfazed by her new surroundings.  I was glad to see her getting love and special wet food for her time away.   About half way through my inpatient treatment I also decided to divulge to my boss where I was and what I was doing while on my medical leave.  Part of the reason was because I was located less than 15 miles away from where she lived.  Her response was very supportive and she came to visit during the weekends when family time occurred.  It helped me to feel not so alone.  I received other visits from coworkers that I typically spoke to only on the phone.

All in all, I am grateful that I made the decision to seek such intense professional help with regards to my issues surround food and depression.  I wish I could say that I never compulsively overate again after treatment but that would not be accurate.  There were things that I didn't necessarily find helpful specifically related to the treatment center I had decided to go to.  But I will say that the facility saved me from a potentially life threatening depression and gave me a chance to focus solely on my emotional well being, which was necessary.  I would definitely encourage anyone who believes they need intensive psychological and focused therapy for an eating disorder to seriously consider inpatient residential care.  My only word of caution would be to research the facility you choose thoroughly.

Old Habits Are Hard to Break

If you ask anyone who has an addiction what led them to relapse, there could be one of a thousand different answers.  I am someone who has experienced relapse in my journey of recovery.  I wish I didn't have to learn lessons in quite such a painful fashion, but sometimes it takes what it takes.  After being in OA for 2 1/2 to 3 years I had lost 189lbs and was slowly beginning to approach a more normal body weight.  I remember when I weighed in and the scale registered a number that started with the number 2.  I believe there was a subconscious decision that I made at that point that I wasn't going to lose weight, and in fact I started putting weight back on.  I moved from the first apartment that I was in to an apartment that was closer to where my social life, but it also enabled me to make choices that did not serve my health of continued weight loss.  My weight started slowly creeping up and I put on a happy face and was doing my utmost to make people feel like I was "fine".  In the midst of no longer making progress in my physical recovery I had taken on two substantial service positions within my recovery community.  My need to people please and do for others left me in a position where I was unable to be honest with myself about what was necessary to place my recovery first in my own life.  LET ME BE VERY CLEAR:  I believe with every fibre of my being that the 12 Step recovery process   WORKS.  The trouble that I got into was that I stopped doing the things that brought me success in recovery in the first place.  My relapse in recovery is NOT the result of a failure of the program, it was my failure to work the program.

As I continued to work at the health care agency I knew that I needed to move out of the department that I had started working in.  I spent concerted time working for a promotion and finally was offered the position of being a Customer Service Supervisor of a small call center team.  It was a big sign of external support for me that I needed at the time, but in retrospect I think that the stress of the new position was a trigger for even more uncontrolled eating.  I made the approval of people I worked for more important than my physical, emotional, and spiritual health.  Part of the challenge was that my direct manager worked in Southern California while I worked in Sacramento.  It left me feeling like I was sort of hanging out on a limb in this new position.  As I learned at a training seminar for new supervisors, being good at what you do, DOES NOT make you good at supervising people who are doing what you used to be good at.  While I don't blame ANYONE for my choice to pick up food and behaviors that I had put down, I realize that I was not set up for success.  As my stress and anxiety level grew, it just became easier to make poor food choices, go to fewer recovery meetings because I was "tired" after a long day or work , and generally let go of everything that had gotten me to where I was.  Anyone who has worked in a call center will attest that the wind blowing from the east is a good enough reason for a pot luck, and as I began to participate in those pot lucks, it was one of the final nails in the coffin of my progress.

As I continued to put on weight I began to have more substantial consequences due to my weight.  I had to start using a cane because of the inflammation in my knees that was creating balance issues.  I wasn't able to walk effectively with my left hip being do degenerated and my knees had started to exhibited inflammation and loss of mobility.  I began to have incidences where my balance would fail and I would fall down.  Because of my weight and my joint problems I was unable to get up myself.  It was absolutely MORTIFYING to not be able to get myself up after falling.  It would take calling the fire department to help me get up.  Being 30 years old and having that happen was such a shaming experience if I could have crawled in a whole and died I would have gratefully done that.

As my disease became more and more encompassing, my depression grew again.  I couldn't accurately voice my shame and anguish about being in relapse, to the people in the program who had become so important and vital to my life, and whom I had grown to love so much.   There is nothing worse that feeling shame and being unable to be honest about what was going on.  I wanted SO BADLY to feel like I had my "S%*T" together.  I wish even today I could surgically remove my ego from my mind and body.  As far as I can tell, the only purpose it serves is image management and making me feel "separate from".  But that may change over time.

In my next post I will share about my decision to seek inpatient treatment for my eating disorder and what I experienced during that time.

The More Things Change the More They Stay the Same

As I continued in my journey in recovery, life began grow in size and complexity.  I began to live with a zest that I had not known before.  Where I had previously enjoyed being around my friends because I could focus on their lives to the exclusion of my own real issues; I now was able to be open and honest about my life and enjoy receiving genuine friendship and support from people who I shared my life with.  In addition to being more emotionally connected, I also was finding that life was getting progressively easier as I began to lose weight.  I had made the decision that I would work on finding a scale the would accommodate me and weigh in once a month.  This allowed me the accountability I needed while not making me a slave to the number on that scale.  I was consistently losing 10 pounds a month while using a plan of eating that involved eating three meals a day, nothing in between and no sugar and certainly no Wheat Thins.  As I'd mentioned previously, living in my own apartment allowed me the freedom to have autonomy to pick and choose what foods were in my house.  It made things a lot easier.

Other things that began to get easier as well.  My second year in OA, the annual convention was in Southern California and I decided that I wanted to attend and was going to fly down to Los Angeles for the first time in over a decade.  I was nervous about the judgement that I anticipated I would receive from fellow air travelers as well as the general anxiety about being so exposed.  The good news was that I was traveling with fellow "trudger's on the road to happy destiny" which made the experience easier to some extent.  I could be as honest as I was able about my feelings and what support I needed to make this journey successful.  I think about the myriad of things that I hadn't been able to do because of my size, and it takes someone who has either been there, or been close to someone who has, to understand what it's like to be able to get on a plane after that long.

As I made friends with member's of the fellowship from lots of other areas around the state, I had an opportunity to go to OA events in the Bay Area and South Bay.  There is a great comfort in going to a meeting where there is a level of understanding and genuine love that seems to be so readily available in the rooms of any recovery meeting.  I met a wide variety of people from every walk of life that shared the common problem but more importantly the common solution.

I also realized that although I was not in a work place that I would necessarily make a career, having freedom from constant food obsession made me a better employee and I found that I genuinely enjoyed being of service to the customers that I spoke with on the phones.  I found that my skills and experience led me to be able to apply for promotions and become party of a working team.

During the weekends I found that I was packing in as much social activity as possible.  I would go to the Bay Area and visit 4-6 friends in a weekend and while it was enjoyable, I think in retrospect I might have been trying to avoid sitting still and having down time.  This would lead me to be exhausted and overwhelmed by the end of those weekends.  As with many other areas in my life, program was teaching me about balance in food, work and play.  At the suggestion of my sponsor at the time I had to institute a one day a weekend rest policy where I could do whatever I wanted to on one day of the weekend, but on the other day, I needed to be having a down day, at home just hanging out.  I was not always easy to have a down day but I was learning the important lesson that rest was as important as work.

Clothes shopping also became an enjoyable hobby as I was losing weight.  I was able to pick clothes not simply for utilitarian purposes of fit, but for how they looked and their style.  When I reached the point where I'd lost 100 pounds I decided with my sponsor that I would light one of my "fat girl" dresses on fire.  Before OA I was forced to wear loose fitting tent like dresses only available from catalogs because I was at the largest size available.  When I asked my friends about possible dresses to burn, they all had strong opinions about which dress I was suppose to torch.  I torched this turquoise plaid dress one day in a large metal kettle with 103 matches representing each pound of weight that I had lost.  It felt like an amazing gift.

Emotionally as my life began to get larger and fuller, I'm not sure in retrospect if my heart was catching up with my brain and the size of my body.  I began to feel like there was a Grand Canyon size gap between my brain where everything was logical and things made sense, and my heart where I was still a 400+lb woman who was getting treated differently and getting more attention because of the ever shrinking size of my body.  After feeling invisible because of the size of my body, I was suddenly in a position where I wasn't sure if I was entirely comfortable getting attention because of my smaller body size.

As I think about that level of discomfort now, I realize that the real challenge was realizing that my whole identity and internal compass had become focused on my body size.  I was either good or bad, worthy or not, happy or unhappy based on how my body weight made me feel on any given day.  And As I've continued this journey, that hasn't changed for me.  As I have approached my weight from a truly multi-disciplinary approach of Recovery, a Medical Weight Loss program, personal training and therapy, it's become even more apparent to me how much my weight and body size has been the thing that I have allowed to become the ONLY defining characteristic that I use for myself.  Changing that is the an ongoing challenge that keeps me on my current path as much as getting to a normal body weight does.  Getting to a place where I don't use my weight as the first thing to describe myself either in a positive or negative fashion is proving to be quite a journey.  

The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With Twelve Steps......

Well, now that we've covered the oh so festive topics of my lack of love life and shame, I figure it is time I got back on the horse chronologically speaking and tell you about my entering OA and what happened on my journey of obesity.

I think I had mentioned in a previous post, that coming into OA was rather mind blowing.  Coming from a home where, "I would be happy when I'm thin.." was a frequently repeated mantra; seeing people joyfully living their lives with humor, grace and open hearts was revolutionary.  I felt at home immediately and also knew that most likely, this was a place I would still be in 30-50-100 years.  Because I'd entered OA with a friend, she and I went to 3-5 meetings a week consistently for the first 2 months of going to OA.  We'd frequently consume coffee before or after a meeting and I can easily say that the GDP of the local Starbuck's may have actually hinged on our patronage.  But it was so great to have someone to decompress with before or after the meeting.  Being COMPLETELY new to Twelve Step, some things felt intuitive and others felt like I'd been transported to another planet.

One of the other interesting things that occurred was that for the first time in my life, I'd intentionally hid something from my mom.  I was 25 when I started OA and I was living with my parents.  In retrospect I have realized that the reason my mom and I were at each other's throats so much is because we are the same person, in good AND bad ways.  It was like seeing yourself in a mirror and NOT liking what you saw.  And my mom had a tendency to be privy to a confidence that I would have shared with her, and then she'd decide to use it as ammunition later.  It's sort of like being shot with a gun after you supplied the bullets.  NOT FUN.  And there was something inside me that realized that even from the very beginning, OAwas sacred, and I was worried enough that she'd try to take it away that I didn't tell her or my dad about it.  For a long time, they just thought I was going out to coffee with a new friend A LOT!!!!!

After being stuck living at my parent's house at the age of 25, being driven crazy by my mom, and being frustrated at working at the non-profit I was at, UNABLE to get full time employment, the straw on THIS camel's back finally broke.  I started first of all, looking for a full time job that would provide enough money for me to do a "flight out of Egypt aka Fair Oaks".  Like so many other obese people, I assumed my weight would be a serious detriment to employment and so I  absolutely low balled myself, my intelligence and experience in my job search.  It wasn't until a few years later that I learned about the concept of under earning and knew that I was a chronic under earner.  But I ended up applying for a job at a large health insurance company in their customer service call center that was full time and close to my home.    I was also in a position where I needed to buy a new car because I was at a weight where I'd literally outgrown my first car, a 1987 Chevy Nova.  The seat wouldn't go back far enough to allow me to comfortably drive anymore.  Trust me when I say that was NOT one of the happier realizations in my life at the time.

So I entered OA in February 2000, started my new job in April of that year, got a new car in May, and moved into my first apartment that July.  To say that being in the Program was helping with my willingness to spread my wing would be an understatement.  That being said, it turned out that the apartment that I ended up in was TWO stoplights away from my parents home, so I was taking the whole "independence" thing rather slowly.  But living in my own apartment was a great experience and really helpful in my being able to regulate the foods that were in my living space.

As far as the actual eating of food and being in OA, that was literally the thing that was least focused on.  No one in OA tells another member what to eat, when or how.  It's not like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig.  Everyone has different foods that they eat compulsively and one of the helpful exercises  that was suggested to me was to write down RED, YELLOW and GREEN light foods.  I think you're smart enough to figure out what that means.  Suffice to say, I was definitely at the point where I was clear that Wheat Thins were the chemical equivalent of heroin.  You don't get to be 400lbs without some qualified binge foods in your repertoire.  I had my list, and with the help of my sponsor I was able to develop a plan of eating that I could adhere to one day at a time for quite a while.  As I heard so many times, I had three meals a day with life in between.  The weight came off about 10lbs a week for the first 9 months I was in OA.

As I began to start talking about the underlying factors that contributed to my being a compulsive overeater, I began to open up to my friends who had been so lovingly patient with me on the journey thus far.  Several friends remarked to me how genuinely happier I seemed, and that they were glad that I was FINALLY willing to talk about the not so small elephant in the living room.  I was able to eat without guilt and secrecy, like I'd done so often in the past.  I honestly felt a freedom and happiness that I'd not felt before.  Life got bigger and fuller as my body began to get smaller.

In my next post I'll talk about what life was like as I was getting smaller and some of the interesting and funny things that can happen when your body changes quicker than your mind.

Fool me Twice, Shame on ME.....

I thought I would write about what's up for me in my current journey of recovery, rather than continuing with my chronological history of growing up as an obese adolescent and young adult.  While I will certainly continue to tell my specific story, I feel like this is a topic that is just "UP" for me, and that topic is the issue of shame as it relates to overweight and obese persons.  If you've ever dealt with a more than 5-10 pound weight gain, you may have experienced shame about your body, its size or your inability to control what goes into your mouth.

I certainly experienced my fair share of shame regarding my weight growing up and even until just recently.  There is something so acutely painful about being constantly aware of the looks that you are bound to get from people.  While a child looking at someone of size with inquisitiveness is understandable, the teenagers and adults who qauk and apparently don't know any better....are a frequent uncomfortable that the way someone looks is often the first and presumably best way to judge someones worth.  When my godson was 5 years old (he's 15 years old, which can only mean one thing, I'M OLD!) he walked up to me and very honestly and sweetly asked me, "Kappy (my nickname) why are you so fat?"  Because I loved this little child from the day he was born, I wasn't the least bit offended by his question.  I also didn't mind the question because I was doing something about my weight at the time.  I answered him, "Well, I'm overweight because I eat too much, but I'm doing something about it now and I'm getting smaller."  With that response, he walked away and continued his plan for action figure world domination.  It was simple and no fuss.

That's not been my experience for the most part however.  As I mentioned in previous posts, there was some issues of me being teased in my grade school, along with my experience of going to public school during summer session and getting an extreme case of what might be termed bullying from boys who were in an art class with me.  It literally left me with this feeling like I was a lower life form who didn't deserve to be part of most things, including the typical social activities of my age.  What is it about kids that makes them so innately cruel at certain ages?  I began to have such a level of self consciousness and self-loathing because of my weight that it wasn't even something of which I was aware.  But I also worked very hard to give the impression that things didn't bother me.  Which, if you've ever tried to perfect that little acting trick, is not so easy.  But I tried.  And I think, in the end isolation was the best way to protect myself from the people who mirrored my internal shame of being a morbidly obese person.

I remember even today, an acutely vivid experience of going to the Tower Cafe downtown for coffee and perhaps lunch with some of my girlfriends while in high school.  I was still not completely secure with my place in this social circle, and so I was trying very hard to make people like me and fit in.  We were sitting at a table with those GOD AWFUL resin chairs that have become so popular.  They were not the more substantial sturdier type, but ones that were light and plastic and not very sizable.  As we sat their enjoying our afternoon all of a sudden the legs of the chair started to slide out from under me because of my weight.  The first time it happened, my pulse immediately shot through the roof and the mental panic dialogue went into overdrive.  "Oh my God, what will happen if this chair collapses and I fall? I will absolutely die of embarrassment."  This continued to intermitently happen for the next 30 to 45 minutes until the chair was about 2 inches lower than it was to begin with and I was so afraid to move a muscle in case the chair did finally collapse.  But here's the important part of this story, do you think, in the time from the beginning of the chair sliding, that I felt I even deserved to ask people for help, or to let them know that there was a problem?  NO!  Because it was related to my weight, and the idea in my head that, "I'm a big fat slob," I just sat there in fear, dread and panic.  When the time came for us to leave, I had to finally give up the big secret to my friends, and they were very sympathetic and understanding and helped me stand up well enough so I could get out of the chair safely.  But it was just another example of the types of experiences that led me to have just a blood curdling amount of shame that the size of my body had placed me in a situation to be publicly humiliated.

Here is the word shame as defined by Webster's dictionary;  shame, noun,  A painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming or impropriety.  That seems like an acutely true definition.  And when you're 100 lbs or more overweight, it begins to be difficult to decipher whether the shame is externally or internally centered.  But for someone like me, who had been 100lbs overweight I believe since I was 12 or 13 years old, I think while some of the ridicule was from external sources, I took every coin of that negativity and deposited it into my internal shame "piggy bank".  And just like any bank deposit, those deposits sat in the account and earned interest over time; so that the amount of shame at the time of withdrawal was larger than the original amount I had deposited.  And so it was in my case.

There was another case where I was at the home of my best friend and I tripped and fell on a carpet while walking through the living room.  I remember so vividly just really wishing that while falling I'd impaled myself on something sharp so I could have just died right on the spot.  I ended up sliding 15-20 feet on my rear end, and then needing 4-5 people helping me get up by putting a rubber backed bathroom rug under my tush and then using that to lift me up.  Because my hip was preventing me from  begin able to get to my hands and knees, I need that level of assistance. I need it even today.   When I think about what I want my life to be like once I've had my knee replacement surgery, one of the first things that I think about is the ability to get myself up on my own, if and when I fall.  When I fall now, it requires what is called a Community Call to the local fire house.  They show up at my house without the sirens blaring, and use 3-4 grown men to help me get up safely.  It is a pride swallowing experience every time it's had to happen.  I've always wanted to hang out with a group of good looking firemen, but trust me when I say that's not the picture I have in my mind when it comes to me and the good looking men in uniform.

So I'd been living with this shame and self consciousness even as I had begun my recovery in OA.  One of the things having to do with shame about weight is that it made me believe that I didn't deserve help for my increasingly legitimate health issues.  It ingrained a level of stubbornness that seemed irrational to people that cared about me.  In retrospect they were right.

But a funny thing happened about a year ago.  My mom had been in increasingly poor health and went into the hospital for a vein resection that was a result of complications of type II diabetes.  While the surgery was a complete success, she had a seizure approximately 5 days after surgery which resulted in her being in the ICU at Sutter Memorial for 7 1/2 weeks before she succumbed to pneumonia and we were forced to make the decision to take her off the ventilator.  It was a heartbreaking time for our family as my mom was the self anointed leader of the family pack.  Because of the gift of recovery, I had cleaned up the wreckage of our relationship several years earlier and was just able to love and spend time with her.  The day before she died I painted her toenails while she was in a coma in the ICU.  I was incredibly sad but had nothing to say but "I love you". I don't discount that gift at all.  After watching her pass away, I knew that I had to do something about my weight and when I began to think about the path that lay ahead of me, there was a remarkable change in my thought process.  The shame was gone.    It was as if my mother had taken the shame with her on her journey to heaven.  That was the most helpful way to look at the completely different feeling I was having about myself, my size and my weight.

Suddenly, my weight was just a number on a scale and not a measure of my worth.  As I started making arrangements, I was able to return to OA and begin participating in a medical weight loss program through a local hospital, and even start the process of incorporating exercise into my life. I was able to talk honestly and openly about my weight, where I was at the moment, where I was going and where I needed to be to qualify for my knee replacement surgery.  I can't emphasize the magical feeling of saying to a handsome gentleman working at the health club, that while I did in fact weigh 400lbs at the time, I'd already lost 50lbs and I needed to get to 235 lbs in order to qualify for my surgery.  Each time I experienced being able to talk about my size without internal judgement, dialogue or criticism, I was convinced that my brain had been abducted and examined by aliens.  I had never before had a break in those comments and the perpetual ticker tape of negativity running through my head about myself and my weight and what that meant about me as a person.  The freedom that has given me is truly one of the most amazing things I've experienced.  And since I didn't "THINK" my way into it happening, I'm aware that even though I may try, I'm not able to THINK my way into keeping this amazing mindset that's enabling me to make progress towards my health.

So with all that said, here's what I know for today:  The size of my body is not the most important part of who I am today.  The size of my body does not mean I'm lazy, stupid, incompetent or fundamentally flawed.  It doesn't mean that I'm a bad person or unworthy of love and respect from people, including men (a somewhat shaky idea).  Being overweight is NOT a moral issue.  Despite every effort of the media and society at large to demonize overweight people and shame them into suddenly putting down the food they've been using as comfort; being overweight is for many people a sign of an addiction.  For me, my relationship with food is no different that the alcoholic, drug addict, compulsive gambler, or sex addict.  I have so many times desperately wanted to be able to put the food down, and was unable to on my own.

Shame is such a common part of the culture of obesity right now.  And I know for me that being able to even envision myself as a normal sized person existing in society became so much easier when the shame I'd carried around like a Nepalese Sherpa for the past 20 years was lifted from me.  I pray, if you're also struggling with shame; about your body size, or any other issue in your life, that you reach out to your support group and find a way to put that shame down.  While the seeds of shame may be external, we plant those seeds, water and tend them and prune the foliage to keep that shame alive.  Get out the weed whacker and do some emotional gardening and see how great your view can be.  I know for me it's created a whole possibility of my life truly coming up roses.

Life is NOT a Harlequin Romance Novel.....

I heard someone say once that for compulsive overeaters, romance novels and romantic movies are a huge set up because it gives you the impression that despite all sorts of manufactured conflicts and drama, everyone ends up happy and in love and with the person that they are hopelessly in love with.  The older  and (hopefully) more mature I become, I am coming to believe that idea more and more.  There have been few things that were a greater source of heart ache for me than the world of romantic relationships.  Growing up as a morbidly obese young woman, my self image prevented me from entering into the world of teenage or young adult romantic relationships.  My physical presence was such a deterrent that not only did I not do any practical footwork towards having a relationship, I just really and truly believed that my weight meant that I didn't even DESERVE to have someone find me attractive and want to date me.  When I have expressed this thought, people have gotten on my case for being overly self deprecating.  And I can understand where they're coming from.  But to me, in my head and even more so, in my gut, it was just an ORGANICALLY TRUE thought.  The sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and no man will love me because of my weight.  I think part of that comes from the mantra learned at home, "I'll be happy when I'm thin...".  But it was just something that I believed at the point when boys and girls went from cootie infested pains in the tush to something more around the junior high/high school age.

This line of thinking had two effects.  One of them was that I did a great deal of vicarious living through the romantic relationships of my girl friends.  Because I went to an all girls high school, I naturally had more female friends than male friends and so I had ample opportunity to hear about all of the sweet and romantic relationships that were blossoming as we grew into young adults.  My closest friend at the time was also open and willing for me to meet her boyfriends and so I had several experiences of meeting guys and feeling involved and yet very much being "the third wheel".  I could spend time with these boyfriends of friends because they were safe, and not available to me so I could relax a bit around them.  I could have the "experience" of dating without the anxiety and fear of rejection that naturally comes with these types of things.   Because I had such an overblown fear of rejection from boys/men and just felt like I would absolutely DIE of pain from the rejection if I actually put myself out there for anyone, vicariously living through my friends was safe.

The second effect that occurred was that I had what might diplomatically be called an overactive fantasy life.  If I had a friendship with an unattached person I would immediately begin constructing our wedding and Pottery Barn perfect life in my head.  I can't tell you how many times I've been married in my own mind.  :)  But it wasn't enough to fantasize about unattached people,  they had to be someone who also had a rather significant flaw that made them unavailable to me, and therefore safe.  I've had a long standing crush on a friend of mine who was a flamboyantly gay hair dresser.  I had a completely obsessive crush on someone who made it quite clear to me that he preferred his girls to look like girls from your average rock and roll videos, (blonde, attractive and perhaps surgically enhanced in the cleavage area).  It almost seemed like I wouldn't go obsessive about a guy unless he was totally unavailable to me.  Reality as many have discovered, was often a bit more disappointing than the John Hugh's movie going through my mind.

I took a friend to Junior Prom who was in the beginning stages of a romance with his high school sweetheart and subsequently married a girl who was my best friend growing up.  That was the only "boy-girl" dance I went to during high school save for going to sophomore homecoming that I went to with a friend from a Youth Group camp that I'd gone to the prior summer.  While it's always good going to events with friends, I wasn't seasoned enough to not allow my head to go into some of the more typical crushes that are common in the minds of high school girls.

My senior year of high school I had what would come closest to being a high school romance.  We were friends who were in the same youth group and we started talking as friends and began to spend a great deal of time together hanging out and also talking on the phone.  I certainly liked him and would have loved him to be my boyfriend but neither of us were willing to express more than friendship feelings at the time.  It was a good experience but again, reality was disappointing compared to what I wanted to happen.  But at this point, I was in a position where I was just accepting that I was not going to have a boyfriend, and that I might NEVER have one.  There are few things more depressing than being resigned to ANYTHING at the age of 17 years old.

I might as well have been in a nunnery during college.  And in the immortal words of Forrest Gump, "that's all I have to say about that."  It wasn't until I had been in OA for a little bit over a year that I had my first real stab at a relationship.  For the uninitiated, there is a concept that when you pick up an addiction, you stop growing emotionally until you stop using your drug of choice.  Since I'd been a compulsive overeater since I was 11 or 12 years old, although I was 25 years old physically,  I felt like I was 13 or 14 years old emotionally.  ON A GOOD DAY.  At a retreat I started chatting with another young man who was also there and we struck up a friendship in the three short days of the event and it was the beginning of a very sweet experience for me.  He lived in the Bay Area and I in Sacramento, so we talked a great deal on the phone.  Since he was also in recovery it made talking a great deal easier.  Being in recovery is sometimes like being in the military, there is a "lingo" and acronyms and it helps greatly if the person you're interested in has the decoder ring.  I was asked to come share my story at his home meeting and so I went to speak and there was something freeing about him hearing all the blood and guts of my eating and food addiction past.  It got a lot of anxiety right out of the way.

After talking on the phone and seeing each other in group settings there was an opportunity for us to have what was considered the first one-on-one date.  The night before we were talking on the telephone  late at night (You know when you're getting to know a potential romantic interest and you can talk on the phone for hours at a time and then you look up and it's 2am in the morning?) and he finally brought up the issue of what I like to endearingly call the, "I like-you-like you" conversation.  He was sweetly honest in saying that he  didn't just think of me as a friend and wanted to actually have a dating relationship.  And while I was sort of thinking that's the direction we were headed, until it was said expressly, I wasn't about to put my neck on the chopping block and risk the dreaded rejection that I was always sure was just around the corner.  I immediately became a completely vulnerable 13 year old in my mind and heart.  It felt like I had been rubbed over head to toe in sandpaper.  Even though he wasn't even in town yet, I felt very raw and exposed.  We had several more dates and my heart, which I had been so viscously protecting since getting teased by the boys in my grade school class at St. Mel's, hurt and hurt bad.  Even though this should have been one of the happiest times for me, I was anxious, upset and extremely emotional.  I discovered during that experience that there was one thing I feared more that rejection. To me at the time, not being rejected was infinitely more scary than being turned down.

In the end, after about 6-8 weeks of dating, I stepped away for reasons that I'm not real clear about in retrospect.  This man was not someone I was likely to end up spending the rest of my life with but at the stage I was at, that was hardly the goal. I needed practice in talking and LISTENING and learning how to have a romantic relationship.  I regret stepping away as early as I did in the process, but I conducted myself with honesty and consideration which made the experience positive in the end.  I was also struggling with a completely obsessive crush on what my friends and I called a "bad monkey".  A guy who was attractive to me more because of what was wrong with him that who he was genuinely as a person.  I think I chose the safety of a mental private obsession rather than the scary vulnerable reality of someone who was saying to me in express terms, "I like you just as you are RIGHT NOW". But I learned a lot through my fledgling dating experience.  With the most important thing being that despite WHATEVER prevailing thoughts I might have about myself or body image, I was likable just as I was.

I've always thought that there's a rather large chasm between an idea being true in my mind and my heart.   Nowhere is that more pronounced than when it comes to my own thoughts of being an attractive desirable woman.  I have several friends of size who have vibrant and full dating lives, and one who is married to a really truly great guy.  They don't let their size hinder them in any way, but specifically in the arena of romance.  I truly envy their innate belief in themselves.  And when I try to imagine myself thinking that way, it's easier to imagine myself walking on Mars in the next 6 months.  Intellectually I SHOULD believe that I am more than the size of my body, that there is a man out there who will find me interesting and funny, attractive and worth being with.  I also INTELLECTUALLY know that pressing the call button for an elevator 15 times after the button gets lit up doesn't make the elevator get there any faster.  But I press the button anyway.

And so as I continue on this journey towards physical, emotional and spiritual health I know that I am going to have to change the way I view myself in the world of romance.  Because I know (intellectually I suspect) that the only person keeping me out of the dating game is the one staring back at me in the bathroom mirror every morning when I'm brushing my teeth.   I want to be in a place where I don't judge someone based solely on their appearance anymore than I would want to be judged.  I want to be willing to set down the fantasy life and pick up a REAL life, and I want to be able to suit up and show up to this area of life truly feeling like one among many.  NO better but NO worse.  My experience of being in recovery has shown me that I am just as powerless over the way I think about romantic relationships  as I am over the idea that food will fix my problems.  And the good news is that the solution therefore, is the same.  I admit I'm powerless over the issue and I ask a power greater than myself to change my heart, so that the chasm between my heart and mind can shrink.  And sometimes that power greater than me is the support of friends, who truly know me well enough to call me on my faulty thinking.  Sometimes that power is my therapist who lays out my thinking in a logical progression so I'm able to see that if I had a friend who thought about themselves the way I think about myself, I'd treat them with infinite kindness, love and affirmation.   Once again, I've got a ways to travel on this issue, but I'm getting started on the journey.

The Myth of "The Happy Fat Chick"

Looking back at my childhood and adolescence there were certain family "rules" that we abided by. The primary rule that my mom spoke quite frequently was the mantra that we be "Happy, Happy, Happy." She frequently said that when there was discord in the family and she just wanted to just smooth it over and go back to things looking good.  Even if we were alone as a family unit, it had to look good.  Amidst the yelling, arguing, fighting, crying, silence and the more then occasional "stink eye" looks, we had to appear and believe that we were all happy.  I think that sentiment carries over into lots of places in my life, and certainly one of those is the world of external image management.  Even if I was being teased, taunted, bullied or ignored, I certainly needed to appear like I was happy. I was certainly known as the girl who had/has a vivid sense of humor, was always quick with a joke, and was generally in a good mood.  I'm not sure if I gave out this vibe authentically or if I did it in an attempt to try and make people like me more.  I do know that having an artificially perky demeanor was not done to make people believe that I never had my feelings hurt or that I was someone who was coated in Teflon when it came to the mean and nasty comments of others.  I have realized in retrospect that I'm not that good of an actress.  I never have been.  Of all the clothes I've ever owned, they always had to be able to accommodate me wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Growing up and becoming part of the 12 Step community of OA effected me greatly when it came to my belief and use of the "Happy, Happy, Happy" mantra.  My mom had always been very tall and very slender growing up due to a high activity level, and summers spent as a lifeguard on one of Minnesota's ten thousand lakes.  When she got married, as many women do, her diet discipline relaxed and she put on weight.  At 5' 9 3/4", she spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence at a size 18/20, which while considered a "plus" size,  did not look disproportionally large at the time.  But I very clearly remember that she would frequently say out loud to the anyone who was listening, "I'll be happy when I'm thin."  That statement created two ideas in my head: a) My mom is not happy "now"; and b) If you're overweight you can't possibly be happy.  It became one of those things that I just believed to be true after hearing it enough times.   It certainly became true for me.

So imagine my profound surprise of walking into my very first 12 step meeting ever and finding happy, grateful, joyful people of ALL shapes and sizes.  I was welcomed into the community with great affection and understanding and I was immediately struck by the idea that here were people who may not necessarily be at what they believe is their ideal body weight, but they were happy RIGHT NOW.  They weren't waiting for a number on a scale, or the results of a diet that was starting on the following Monday, first of the month, or next New Years.  It was, and remains to be the thing that keeps me coming back to OA.  The idea that happiness was not contingent on anything that was waiting to be acquired in the future.

Something else happened when I began participating in OA regularly.  I began to understand that my worth and lovability did not depend on me giving off an artificial picture of happiness. And as I mentioned before, with my being a less than spectacular actress, most of the people close to me, were not fooled by my "Happy Fat Chick" facade anyway.  When I finally began talking about the shame and self-loathing that accompanied 200+ extra pounds of weight on my body, there was a collective sigh of relief on the part of my friends.  They finally felt like they could talk to me about something that they had been genuinely concerned about.  Not only was my health becoming a legitimate concern at this point, but everyone knew that I was sad even profoundly depressed, and that there was a profound whole in my heart that had been undiscovered and unfilled up until that point.  I felt such a sense of remorse that the people who cared about me so much, and were my closest friends, somehow knew that the topic of my weight and eating were NOT safe topics to bring up to me.  I was too defensive and up until entering OA, too unwilling to start making any sort of changes in this area of my life.  Even as imperfectly as I have done, it truly hope that I am never so defensive and guarded that those who care about me can't bring up a topic if they're coming from a place of love and concern.

As I began to put the food down once tenuous day at a time in OA, the feelings I'd been so desperately trying to push down bubbled up, the emotions came with the predictability of a summer squall.  I can honestly say that I cried in my second meeting.  I think the primary reason I cried was because I was finally in a place where it was safe to do so.  There was such a sense of relief that I'd found a community of people who felt and acted the same way that I did when it came to the crazy irrational and powerless things that I'd done with food.  It truly felt like I'd found "HOME".  If you are one of the people who have found acceptance, understanding, love and hope in the rooms of recovery; you may be able to relate when I say that it was nothing short of a miracle to feel safe.  Finally feeling loved and accepted even when I weighed 400lbs, felt like a profound experience, and it still does.  

One of the ongoing processes for me in my journey is to be honest when I am asked how I'm doing or feeling.   It's amazing how much I still want to say, "I'm fine", with a happy perky and completely artificial smile on my face when people as me how I'm doing.  I want to be able to say that "I'm great!" because I'd like to feel like a happy chirpy bird in a Disney movie all the time.  And some days I can say that, and some days I can't.  The challenge is to realize that the size of my body does not determine my worth or my RIGHT to be honest about how I'm feeling on any given day.  The size of my body does not determine the RIGHT I have to receive support when I need it.   Learning to ask for that support is an on going process.  THAT is the beginning of the journey to becoming an authentically happy and content person.  I feel like I'm certainly on my way so far.

The First Day of The Rest of My Life?????

After graduating from college,  taking 6 years to complete my degree, I was not exactly awash with ideas on how I was going to conquer the universe.  I still was employed at JC Penney and had worked their for 4 years at the point when I graduated and was also offered a position at the Legal Aide non-profit where I had interned during my last year in school.  I think in retrospect I may have been the only Sacramento native who didn't want to work at the Capital for my internship.   That was again, all based upon my body size, the limitations being placed on my body by my weight, and what I assumed would be the judgement of people who liked their female interns young, petite and perky.  So while I liked the more liberal bent of the work being done at the Legal Aide office, it was also a place where I knew after meeting the staff, that I would be appreciated for my skills, and not how I looked in a skirt suit.

The job I was offered at Legal Aide was that of an administrative assistant.  There were several perks to the job including flexibility and having benefits offered to people who met a 60% time threshold (22.5hrs a week, which is what I worked).  That combined with my job at JCPenney certainly kept me busy.  As some people may have learned, 2 part time jobs doesn't equal 1 full time job, it's more effort than that.  But I enjoyed the work, and enjoyed helping people.  The one draw back to this situation was that I was extremely overqualified for BOTH of the positions for which I was now employed. This was to be an ongoing theme for me when it came to employment.  Because of the overwhelming insecurity I felt due to my weight, I just naturally was applying for jobs that were way below my skill and intellectual level.  While this created situations where I wasn't exactly challenged by my jobs, it did lend itself to me rarely being told I "no" in relation to applying for jobs.  Since I was so overqualified from the get-go, it wasn't too hard for me to get the jobs I was applying for.

I lasted at both jobs a total of 7 months at which point I left JCPenney because there was no chance of advancement and I wasn't able to handle the stress and constant commute of working two part time jobs.  With my parent's blessing (Something I still sought at the age of 24) I quit JCPenney.  At my exit interview I was told that they had wanted to give me a lead position but they were worried that I would not be able to handle the more physical aspect of the job which included bringing things to other associates and providing support.  They were concerned I wouldn't be able to walk the distances necessary.  While I appreciate the faith that they had in me, I was upset that my weight was once again becoming a barrier in reaching even the mediocre goals I had at that point in my life.

From December of 1998 until April of 2000 I worked at the Legal Aide office as an administrative assistant but since I'd also been an intern, I was able to provide support to the interns who were working there as well.  I coordinated a silent auction for a fundraiser and used my diplomatic phone skills to do a lot more than what was typically required of the previous admin assistant.  When I approached the program director requesting to discuss the possibility of full time placement, I was told that there was no money in the budget but that I also had displayed some characteristics that made them concerned that I wouldn't' be suitable for a permanent position. This was not weight related but had more to do with the fact that I was bored in a position where I was genuinely not being challenged and so I was sort of slacking off when I could and it was being noticed.  I was upset at what I thought was a slap in the face, because of my "above and beyond" tasks but in retrospect I understand what they were  getting at.  So I began my quest for other full time employment.

This quest for full time employment also was born out of my intense need to get out of my parent's house.  At this time I was still living with my parents and I was not getting along with my mom very well.  We are the same people, judgmental, defensive and at that time I was eating a great deal in an attempt to cope with emotions.  It's my PERSONAL opinion that my mom used alcohol as a coping tool, and so when you have two people who were using substances to cope with their feelings rather than talking and more important LISTENING to each other.   That's pretty much a gourmet recipe for conflict. There was lot's of yelling and fighting and lots of hurtful words on both sides.  It just felt like NOTHING I did was good enough.  Not my clothes, my hairstyle, my friends, my plans.  And it was just to the point where I had to spread my wings and get out.

The year prior to my "escape from Alcatraz" I had been approached by a loving friend who had asked me if I wanted to start doing something about my weight.  If you're anything like me, there's always some excuse for why you can't make your health the number one priority.  "I've got school, I've got work, I can't start till Monday, next week, next month next year."  But once I was down to one job, and nothing else, there was really no logical reason why I shouldn't start.  And I felt I was ready to start putting the food down.  This friend of mine suggested that we both do Weight Watchers and so I enrolled and started working the program.  Since this friend of mine lived in the East Bay area of Oakland, I would frequently get on a 7:00am train in Sacramento to go to a Weight Watchers meeting in Oakland with her.  I was aware even at that point that I COULD NOT DO THIS ALONE.  I needed her emotional support and her nonjudgmental way of making talking about food and eating a lot easier to handle.  This was officially the beginning of my health and weight loss journey.

I remember the first WW meeting vividly.  We met for coffee before hand, and then went to the meeting.  The scales that they had at the meetings topped out at 440lbs.  When I stepped on one scale, it went all the way to the top and zeroed out.  When I think about the amount of shame I had ALWAYS carried around with me about my weight, the fact that I didn't run screaming out of the room is what I still believe to be a miracle.  I could have so very easily just walked out.  But I didn't.  I stayed and for 6 more weeks I stepped on the scale and it zeroed out.  Once the scale started registering a weight, I was relieved but in retrospect I can only estimate that my weight when I began WW was somewhere around 475lbs.  As I heard once, the problem with weighing 475lbs is not how far it is from 400, but how close it is to 500.  I thank the God of my understanding for getting me through those first emotional and stressful weeks of trying to get some sort of perimeter around my food.

I was attending WW in both the Bay Area and also in Sacramento and in February of 2000 I finally had made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon to discuss my hip.  I'd had an MRI and was going into seeing this physician for the very first time.  I'd lost some weight at this point and was now at about 400lbs.  I met this doctor who took one look at my reports and said, "There's nothing that I can do for you now, you need a total hip replacement and you need to be 200lbs or under for that.  I'll see you when you weigh 200lbs."  That was it. No compassion, no understanding, no listening.  It was devastating for me.  Here I was for the first time making an effort ON MY OWN, to do something about my weight, and the doctor basically came in and popped by balloon with a machete.  I literally went home, crawled into bed and cried for two solid days.  That experience has led me to carry around a certain prejudice towards orthopedic surgeon's to this day.  I'm glad I've finally met a doctor who is able to effectively mix reality with compassion and I'm hoping he'll be the doctor to do my joint replacement surgeries when I'm ready.

Something interesting happened after that meeting with the doctor.  I stopped losing weight.  I was yo-yoing around the same 5lbs for the next two months, feeling more discouraged and depressed than I had in quite a while.  Once Saturday morning after a WW meeting I was having coffee with participant who like me was one of the few people who didn't qualify for Medicare in the class, and she asked me if I'd ever thought of going to Overeaters Anonymous*.  Not for lack of qualifying, but no one in my family had ANY experience of exposure with 12 Step programs and I'd honestly never heard of them.  Part of my reason for agreeing to go to a meeting with her was because I thought she was such a groovy chick and I wanted to be her friend, I still do think she's a super groovy chick by the way.  When she showed up the following Saturday with a meeting schedule and suggested we go to the meeting together that evening, I was ready for anything.  In my spinning around the same 5lbs for two months, I was realizing that my weight had a lot less to do with food than I had previously thought.  I was willing to try anything.


*A note about discussing OA in this blog:  As you may or may not know, OA, much like Alcoholic's Anonymous is a 12 Step recovery program from compulsive overeating.  The anonymity that is fundamental to this program is to insure that the MESSAGE of the program is what is communicated rather than any one person being a star, guru, or treated special for any particular reason. OA has been an extremely significant part of my life and I can not speak about becoming physically, emotionally or spiritually healthy without discussing OA.  If you're reading this and want to know more about OA, please go to www.oa.org to find out more about the program and attend a meeting in your area. There is also information about telephone and on-line meetings available on the site if you're in a more rural area.  WHAT I AM SHARING IS JUST MY EXPERIENCE, STRENGTH AND HOPE AND NOT THE OPINIONS OF OA AS A WHOLE.


My next post will talk about my first experiences with OA and the larger world that opened up to me as a result of me being willing to be more open.  Thanks for reading.