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.
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