Like Sands Through the Hourglass.......

Well hello there friends, it's been quite a long while since you've heard from me. I've decided to resurrect this blog because I've got stuff that I want to share about.  There has been A LOT going on in my crazy life.  So here goes nothing.  

So most of you know I "outed" myself as a compulsive overeater who is in 12 Step recovery around my food addiction.  I attend Overeaters Anonymous, and have been aware of the fellowship since February 2000.  I have come to understand that anonymity is  a very personal choice for people in recovery.  I have an above average comfort level with people knowing I attend OA.  It's not like I don't wear the ramifications of my disease on my body literally.  When you meet me in person, you KNOW that I have profound issues with food.  So to me it's no problem that people know I'm in OA.  I personally think that OA isn't well enough known in the community abroad, especially among the bariatric surgery community where many people go looking for help regarding having too much weight on their bodies.  When I went to my bariatric surgeon for a consultation, I was not surprised to discover he'd never heard of OA.  We are not well known in the medical community.  I brought him a newcomer packet and that was about it.  

Another part of the reasoning behind anonymity is because if you are someone like me, who's relapsed back into compulsive overeating and have substantial weight gain, you are subliminally showing people that the OA program of recovery does not work.  The truth of this for me is that it's not that the OA program didn't work.  It's that I wasn't working the OA program AS INTENDED and therefore I was a good example of a bad example as they say.  Truer words have never been spoken. 

So I came into OA in February of 2000 from the rooms of Weight Watchers.  I had lost 50lbs but was stuck circling the same 5 pounds for a few months, and getting increasingly frustrated by my inability to  shift my weight.  A girl at the WW meeting was young and energetic like myself and we went to coffee after a meeting one Saturday morning.  She asked me if I had ever heard of OA.  I hadn't.  Despite growing up with the disease of alcoholism in my home, the 12 steps might as well have been in Sanskrit when I heard them the 1st time.  But there was a 100lb emphasis meeting that happened on Saturday nights that was very popular so we went.  There I found a group of people who were the antidote to my mom's favorite mantra, "I'll be happy WHEN I'm thin".  Here were people of all ages and sizes who seemed genuinely happy NOW.  They embraced us newcomers with zeal and welcomed us to a fellowship of people who were united not necessarily by the common problem, but by the common SOLUTION of the 12 Steps.  I wanted what they had and enthusiastically committed myself to this new way of life.  

The ethos at the time in OA was that most people had success sticking to a "3-0-1"plan of eating. That was 3 meals a day, nothing in between One day at a time.  In OA we learn that we have a physical allergy that makes us crave some foods.  And a mental obsession that guarantees that we won't be able to refrain from starting to eat our alcoholic foods.  Everyone has their foods, that they cannot seem to eat moderately in any situation.  For me at the time, that food was Wheat Thins.  I have often joked that I think Wheat Thins are the chemical equivalent of heroin.  How else do I explain how I can open a family size box and finish it in one setting; my tongue raw from the coarse salt on top of the crackers.  They say, "If you want what we have, do what we do."  And so that's what I did.  I lost 10lbs a month for 14 months straight.  I got to a weight I hand't been to in my young adult life.  I received a lot of attention in the program for the weight loss.  While I NOW understand that attention, as being just a external representation of the miracles of the program working in my life, I was unable to keep perspective on all the attention I was getting.  For someone who felt invisible because of being morbidly obese, to get POSITIVE attention for my body size might as well have been a line of crushed up Wheat Thins, ready to be snorted in a line by yours truly.  And as slowly as a thief in the night, my disease returned to snatch victory out of my hands.  I relapsed around year 2, and spent the next TWENTY YEARS in a cycle of chronic relapsing and returning.  I am SO GRATEFUL that I never left the rooms of OA entirely.  Another popular slogan is, "Don't leave before the miracle happens!"  How true that sentiment is for me.  

OA bases itself on the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, changing only the words, "alcohol and alcoholic" to "food and compulsive overeater".  As someone who truly bought into the conventional wisdom that controlling food is a matter of "will power" and "discipline", it was a new vision to learn that we were actually powerless over food.  We learn that we have a 2 fold illness; a physical allergy to certain foods.  And a mental obsession that guarantees at some point that I will turn back to those alcoholic foods for ease and comfort.  "If Suzie can eat X, why can't I?"  It took me a long time to understand that the reason that I cannot is that I am DIFFERENT.  That somewhere in my makeup are different cells when it comes to eating food.  Somewhere in my past, I taught myself that food was something I could stuff into my "God shaped hole" to try and fill it.  But like all GSH's, the bottom of the hole could never be reached. I could increasingly eat larger and larger quantities of food each time I would binge.  By the fall of 2022, I was spending the majority of time in my bedroom alone, in the dark, eating $74 of DoorDash A DAY, eating that in the dark only to the glow of my cell phone playing YouTube videos.  It was a very small life for me because I couldn't escape my disease.  

I was morbidly obese, compulsively overeating, and depressed.  What could happen next?  

Stay Tuned...............

It's REALLY not About the Weight

It's October 9, 2015 and I haven't written on this blog in a VERY long time.  For those of you that know me, 2015 has been a CRAZY Year.  But since this blog is about me, I can only focus on my journey, so here it is.

I was preparing for bariatric surgery the last time I posted.  I'm SO GRATEFUL to report that the surgery went off without a hitch on November 24th, 2014.  Surgery was 11am on Monday and I was home by 8pm Tuesday.  The worst part was the gas they have to use to inflate your abdomen to see around in there.  It truly does have to come out one way or the other, which can be uncomfortable.  But for the most part I have been free from complications or any serious side effects.  How lucky am I????

With surgery being November 24th, I looked to the New Year with renewed optimism and hope.  January 21st my father was hospitalized with what turned out the be stage IV metastatic colon cancer.  It felt completely out of the blue.  His first major hospitalization was 71 days.  For a died in the wool Catholic girl, all I can say is OY!  If you don't know, there's nothing so exhausting as sitting beside someone you love so dearly watching them be sick.  I thought I knew tired....I had no freaking idea what that was until this happened.  The anesthesiologist advised us because of the emergent nature of the surgery there was a 50/50 chance dad wouldn't make it off the surgery table.  As the surgeon came to speak with us after the surgery, the anesthesiologist walked by, stuck his head in the waiting room and just said, "Man your dad is tough".  You got that right!  The now named Honey Badger walked through major surgery, a cancer diagnosis, wound care for an 8" incision for which he'd prefer a sexier story to explain, physical rehab and having to start chemo.  He did it without complaint and with the constant concern of not being a burden to his family.

As the person who lives with my father, I had absolutely no reservation about doing whatever was needed to help care for him.  I am an unashamed daddy's girl.  He's truly the person who taught me about unconditional love.  I do however, have physical limitations that made this journey more challenging.  It's been a steep learning curve on balancing self care with care taking.  The old analogy of putting your oxygen mask before putting your child's on, definitely applies.

I am so very grateful and surprised by what I've been able to do on behalf of someone I love so very much.  I have two words for you:  COLOSTOMY BAGS.  Speaking of steep learning curves, there's just no way to explain what a challenge that is to get into the groove of that whole experience. I'm exceedingly grateful for my sense of humor.  My mantra became, "In case my father loses his S%*T, it does not mean I get to lose my S%*T".  There's a lot to be said for humor in the face of things that are difficult, painful or embarrassing.  There's a gift in caring for those who've cared for us.

More than anything, it taught me about the importance of ACTIONS.  It's truly not what we say or what we feel it's what we DO.  I am someone who gets plagued by inertia frequently, so to have to walk through the daily business of putting one foot in front of the other, and do the things I don't necessarily want to do, gives me reassurance that I will be able to do that for myself more than I have in the past.   As an Irish girl, I've realized that there are times when I'd prefer to stick sharp objects under my fingernails rather than ask for help.  My village has bridged the tricky traverse between granting me space, and offering help, to insisting on help should I become a wee bit stubborn.  (Me, stubborn?...NO WAY!...lol).

My father has had a lot of challenges this year.  Three separate hospitalizations for complications of the chemotherapy and a difficult decision to end IV chemo in favor of a shorter but richer life expectancy.  I've watched with a lot of admiration and even sadness as he asks what he did to deserve me caring for him like I have.  I watched as he's lost his enjoyment for food.  You know a person's taste buds are shot when Oreo's aren't appealing.  But I've also watching him poison himself with toxins to stay around those he loves.  I've seen him be more motivated than most to be present.

My weight has become a truly secondary part of this journey.  I'm very grateful I decided to do the surgery when I did.  I'm also grateful in some ways that I had something else to focus on this year, or I could have become quite neurotic and obsessed about what the scale said.

I'm so glad to be on this journey and grateful you're willing to travel the road with me.  As always, thanks for reading.

It's ALL About Your Village

It's truly amazing how fast life can move once a decision is made.  And that certainly holds true for me.  As someone who has struggled with morbid obesity for 25+ years I think I can truly say that I have tried every option out there to try and get some weight off of me.  Except for one....And that is to have bariatric weight loss surgery.  It's been around for quite a while and I've had the experience of watching people close to me and strangers do the surgery and have varying degrees of results.  Two of the women who were with me in treatment were there because they had become bulimic after weight loss surgery.  It was a harrowing cautionary tale to watch.  I wanted to be one of those people who could accomplish something like loosing significant amounts of weight with just my OWN PERSONAL POWER.  (Pause for the rueful laugh of someone who by the definition of being in a recovery program around food GETS how ridiculous that statement is).  And so while talking to my Rhumatologist who has known me since I was 16 years old, I asked him about it.  He expressed his concerns and then very casually said, "But it could be the best thing you ever do for your health." And for some strange reason the door was open.  The footwork began.  That footwork has moved at a rather breathtaking pace for a Libra like me who could cheerfully debate and issue into oblivion.

And what I have come to realize is that it truly is ALL about your village.  I have become completely amazed, overwhelmed and humbled by the people who have expressed their support for this new chapter in my journey.  To my medical team who have been 100% behind me, to my friends who have said that they support me no matter what. To my family who are behind me as well. And especially my recovery friends who are helping me to become as emotionally and spiritually prepared for this next phase.  Because as I have been going through the footwork, I have to remember that for me, who identifies as a Compulsive Overeater, I must always remain vigilant that I have a problem in my mind primarily, and that this is in NO WAY a fix or panacea.  The honest truth is that I find I'm doing MORE of the recovery work than I was before considering this, which is a bit surprising to me.

I was on a day road trip with one of the members of my village, and I was talking about this whole experience and I said rather emphatically, "This HAS to work."  And when I say work I mean get me to the weight the doctors say is required for joint replacement surgery.  And after some contemplation this person to me, "That's just an awful lot of pressure you're putting on yourself.  You're going to be okay no matter what happens."  And I can honestly say that I didn't believe him at that point.  I was full of a great deal of fear and anxiety about the situation and was just convinced I was going to find a way to mess this up.  My weight has truly been the most significant place where I buy into the belief that I can't do "it".

And the truth is that "I" can't do it.  Not alone.  And that's the part I had been missing for quite awhile.  I believe that a Power greater than me is going to restore me to sanity, and for me sanity means taking this next step.  Because I am in a 12 Step spiritual program for this addiction, I believe that I have to be successful using ONLY the tools of that program.  Picture me meditating under a tree while shoving Wheat Thins in my mouth...that's pretty much it.  I thought that choosing this surgery was a failure in some way, or meant I didn't believe that in recovery for myself.  NOTHING could be father from the truth the closer I get to the actual surgery date.  What truly is the recovery for me is realizing that I'm worth doing this surgery and that I can reach out for help in whatever form it takes.  That still blows my mind as I read it on the computer screen.

Because I have a lot to lose.  I've got a lot of life to live.  Lot's of adventures and lot's of travel and lot's of service to give to the world at large.  I've got my dad who wants me to be okay before anything happens to him.  And I've got my village who has just shown up in a way that maybe makes me finally believe that I'm a lovable imperfect person who deserves to have a full, crazy life.  Because if there's one thing I know, it's that I want Westboro Baptist Church to picket my funeral.  Hee Hee!

If you're reading this, thanks for being part of my village too.

In Praise of Tolerance

Whew!  It's been quite a while since I've been here.  I will definitely say I've been sort of chipping away at my emotional and spiritual rock pile and so I've not been really called to write a new post.  HOWEVER....the topic of tolerance keeps popping it's head above ground like that Whack-A-Mole game I used to play at the arcade.  Over and over again it's been popping its head up.  So I guess when I just can't whack-a-mole any more, I just have to write about it.

Like most well-intentioned people, I like to consider myself pretty tolerant.  But I've recently learned that it's terribly easy to feel tolerant when you're surrounding yourself with like minded people.  As long as there are no challenges to my way of thinking, I'm Buddha on the Mountain top. I'm Gandhi.  I'm completely and 100% Zen.  Get someone who challenges my beliefs or thought processes in any way, and lets just say it's not exactly a pretty picture.  I'm not exactly a fan of realizing that I'm a stones throw away from becoming the very thing I judge so harshly, but you gotta bloom where you're planted.  Right?

My first encounter with my issues around tolerance happened in no less than a church.  As a cradle Catholic, I am firmly of the opinion that church should above all other things be a safe and welcoming place.  Certainly as the church continues to come out of the priest abuse scandals, feeling safe is more important than ever.  I had the opportunity to accompany a friend of mine who has a special needs child to Mass to celebrate his making his first Reconciliation.  This child has Tourette's and his current tick is verbal and quite loud.   Now, being in this kids life, I'm used to the experience and have been coached by his ROCK STAR mom on the best way to handle this particular tick.  But I was not in any way prepared for the responses by several of the other member's of the parish.  Many lingering stares, some hissing to get him to be quiet, more staring, an offer to remove the child (to make others more comfortable I'm sure), and just a general lack of understanding.  It should be noted that the kiddo was wearing this great shirt that had been made especially for him that explained the situation, along with the fact that he couldn't control what he was doing and asking for understanding.  This very special and wonderful child wears this shirt like armor to protect himself from the seemingly ignorant goobers that are out and about in the world.   The experiencing of being in church and having this reaction made me QUITE upset.  I thought to myself, "Why can't people be nicer?  More understanding?  More, dare I say, Tolerant?" I went home resentful and upset on behalf of not only my godson, but his mom who is a single parent and deals with this like a boss.

In talking to someone about this situation it was pointed out to me that perhaps it was unrealistic to expect me to think that imperfect people coming to a house of worship for spiritual solace would be open to this sort of challenge.  I immediately became incensed.   "That's not how it's supposed to be!"  I railed self-righteously in my head.  And my idea of what was "RIGHT" was like a brick wall in my mind.  This person just sort of chipped away at my sanctimonious way of thinking I came to realize that tolerance was not just about what I thought was the correct way of being.  If I was going to truly be Buddha on the mountain top, I had to show loving kindness to not just the people who I think deserve it the most.  I also have to show that same loving kindness to those I think deserve it the least.  How's that for choking on my own good intentions?  Thank goodness we were having this discourse via Facebook messenger so I was able to make ALL SORTS of faces to the computer screen, as it slowly sank in that perhaps this person might just be right.

The second treatise on tolerance occurred when I was chatting with someone and we happened to be discussing politics.  I became a Political Science major in college because I truly love politics. I once read a 950 page biography of Harry Truman...for fun.  I would say I'm somewhat liberal in my thinking on many topics; the specifics of which certainly don't need to be divulged here.  So I'm talking with someone who has a much more conservative view on not only social policy but economic policy as well.  We're NOT agreeing on much, let me just put it that way.  And again, I find myself getting all up in my self-righteousness and being "better" than the other person because I knew that my way was the true path to enlightenment.  Politically speaking of course.  If you want the true path to true enlightenment, other than coffee, I don't have much right now.  Check back later...;-)  And as we were getting into some verbal combat on a few topics, I realized how much I just wanted to say, "Screw you!" and take my toys out of the sand box, conversationally speaking.   And it's become an all too common theme in society today and certainly in myself, that if the voice of opposition is speaking, the options are to either: a) cut them off, speak over them and 'win' the argument or b) just say that they're wrong and leave the battle field.  And if this way of handling different opinions seems familiar, we need only to look at our desperately unproductive Congress in Washington D.C.  Lack of tolerance leads to stalemates and gridlock and nobody getting anything they want.

I will freely admit that I do not have the solution when it comes to tolerance.  But I think that it's completely fascinating that the moment it has become an issue for me, it starts showing up ALL OVER THE PLACE.  Funny how that works.  So I now am asking myself some interesting questions;  Am I being tolerant of MYSELF (Ew...)?  Am I being tolerant of those who think and act differently than I do?  Am I teachable today?  Thank goodness life is graded on a very gentle curve.

Thanks for taking the time to read......

What's YOUR Song?

So it's 350am and I have one of my more atypical cases of insomnia.  It's something that's been going on a bit lately.  Ugh!  So I'm sitting here trying to unwind and I've been listening to the same song on repeat on my iPod for quite awhile.  Do you ever do that?  Find a song that just hits the spot better than getting to scratch you back when it itches like crazy?  That's where I find myself rather frequently.  Lifted up by music.  Currently it is the ROCK GOD Chris Cornell's cover of Led Zeppelin's "Thank You"...an iconic song in its own right.  But when sung by a guy whose voice sort of caps up the Seattle  scene and the early 90's so well...it is JUST.PLAIN.PERFECTION.  And it makes me realize how great music is in just that way.

I could probably make a timeline of events in my life and attach a song to each and every major thing that's happened to me. My mother and father in their infinite wisdom had possibly the only console stereo in Sacramento with an 8 track in it.  My brother still to this day denies my mother's remembrance of him hanging off of it as a toddler listening to John Denver singing "Rocky Mountain High." We had a Christmas record that was made by my mother's high school choir from a tiny town in southern Minnesota, that we haven't listened to since she passed away.  I remember getting my own stereo with a record player and double tape deck, at which time my "mixed tape" phase began in what can only be described as painful earnest.  Going to Tower Records to find music, getting a new record as soon as humanly possible after it was release.  Singing my favorite song with a car full of friends.  CD's came along and I certainly amassed an impressive collection.  (I could probably finance the government of a small African country on what I've spent on music in my lifetime).  I remember the album I was listening to when I took the first of many day road trips to Sonoma and Bodega Bay, truly enjoying just meandering along the gorgeous roads of Nor. Cal.  And on, and on, and on.....

I'm sure like most people who are getting on in years, I question the cultural relevance of popular music.  "It's just not as good as the stuff I listened to when I was younger" seems to be the war cry of the quickly aging.  But let me just say this, Pearl Jam's song "Jeremy" speaks as much about bullying and gun violence NOW as it did when that video first came out.  Will we be saying the same about Lady Gaga?  I'm not so sure.

There are times when I want some chill acoustic music.  There are times when piano stuff is nice too.  There are the rather frequent times that I get into the car after my dad has driven it and find the channel set to the classical station and listen to it for awhile trying to enjoy it.  If I feel particularly aggressive, angry or grumpy I will go for my "Angry White Man" music, with lots of drum, base, and yelling.  There's something about that sort of music that's empowering to me; a sort of war cry to the world that the people next to me at stoplights CLEARLY don't understand...

In the entirely INSTANT world we live in these days, I have mixed emotions about the digital music age.  I certainly enjoy the speed with which music is available to our ravenous consumer society.  But I also find it a bit sad, that I don't come home and find my proud library of music displayed so lovingly on a bookshelf or CD rack.  But then again, it's a lot easier to put an iPod or iPhone into my purse and take it along with me.  For me, it's certainly true that music soothes this sometimes savage beast.

I was a music major in college for 2 years focusing on vocal performance.  I truly love to sing and find myself sometimes amazed how many songs I can sing along to in the car when driving around doing my typical daily deeds.  I changed majors because the technical side of music is a lot more challenging than riffing along with a Matisyahu song on the way to the grocery store.  When I see someone playing piano or guitar with ease and skill...I'm truly impressed and even a bit jealous.  Reading sheet music never came that easy to me.  It is truly a gift that I'm always glad they shared.

The first time I ever sang in public by myself I sang the Ave Maria in front of 500 people during a wedding.  Coming from a choral experience before that, I can only be glad that there was holy water nearby during my baptism by fire.  It was a terrifying, great, nerve racking experience.  But it was fabulous none the less.  I learned a lot about facing your fears and opening your mouth and just letting it rip.

So wherever you are in your day, is there music in it?  When's the last time you listened to the album that you just couldn't get enough of in high school?  Here's hoping that you are singing your favorite song, loud and proud.

"Well NOW what do I DO?????"

It's been awhile since I've posted on this here blog, and I think the only way to adequately explain the absence is honesty.  I got attacked by apathy and some depression and am now just feeling like the fog is lifting.  And all I really want to say additionally about that is I'm grateful.  Extremely, massively, grateful and relieved that I no longer feel like I'm knee deep in quick sand trying to run a marathon.  There are fewer things more frustrating for me at least, that knowing what you SHOULD be doing, and not being able to trigger the action within yourself.  I emphasized the SHOULD because I definitely have a tendency of 'SHOULD-ing" all over myself.  Getting stuck into how I think my time should be spent which tends to be based on how I want to appear to the outside world.  (CODE FOR:  Appearing to have my proverbial s$*t together a lot more that I actually do).  And I also judge myself a great deal for how I think my life should be, rather than how it truly is.  It's this simultaneous ability to hold my self to potentially unreachable standards and then also let myself off the hook for things that are attainable.  A viscous cycle to be sure.  If you've ever been on this ferris wheel of neuroses and frustration, HOLLA!

So I'd been riding said ferris wheel and began to retract into my turtle shell a bit.  I have to admit, for someone who battles isolation at times, social media is an absolute mixed bag.  It unfortunately gives the illusion of being emotionally connected with people while not actually having to put the effort forth of showing up face to face.  For people with legitimate reasons for not leaving the house; caretakers of  loved ones and agoraphobics and the like, it can be a very useful tool.  For someone like me though, it can turn into a situation where I feel artificially connected with people because I know you went to Chicago Fire for dinner with your family last Thursday, while not having to show up face to face and be honest, vulnerable and accountable to people who genuinely have my best interests at heart.  Also known as the slippery slope ending in a drop off a cliff.

Therefore, while my father and housemate is embarking on his 11 day, 3 state, social whirlwind vacation and I'm home keeping the puppies from hanging off the chandeliers, I recognized the potential for this to be either a great opportunity for me to do things differently or it could be a complete nightmare.  Thankfully for right now at least I am choosing the former.  Again, queue gratitude.

I may have mentioned previously that I've realized just how much I have previously allowed my weight and the corresponding consequences color the world I live in.  More than just that, it's come to define the way I've learned to think about myself.  And it's so ingrained in my subconscious that I forget sometimes that it is truly a choice to think of myself in the often negative light that my being overweight puts me in.  I was chatting with someone on Facebook the other day and explaining this, and just sort of justifying my stuck-ness and she countered with her view of me that was so awesome I thought, "Hell I want to know THAT woman!!!".  It was so interesting because for as benign a conversation as it was, it made me realize that we rarely see ourselves the way that we really are.  And that can certainly happen in the context of positive AND negative parts of ourselves.  And for perhaps the first time, when someone presented me with a view of myself that was complimentary, my internal "committee" didn't respond with, "Well they're just saying that because they love me", or, "thanks but here are the infinite reasons I'm not that person...".  The internal thought was, "Yeah, I COULD be that Person, I WANT to be that person, and am on my way."  It felt like a watershed moment.

Having one thing that has completely high jacked my self-image (my weight and it's corresponding laundry lists of reason's I'm therefore not good enough for _________[fill in the blank] is like being nearsighted.  When I wake up in the morning I don't even get out of bed without putting my glasses on because I really can't see without them.  It completely dominates the way I view the world.  And so has this, up until now.

I say up until now, because I found myself talking to my therapist recently (well, okay it was this afternoon) and I was sort of processing this idea, and he said, "You've let your weight and the baggage the comes along with it (which for me is the joint problems that will require 3 joint replacements once I'm at a suitably healthy weight) to be the reason, excuse and cop out for not doing a lot in your life."  I certainly couldn't argue with that, but have always felt more than a bit justified in saying that my joint stuff is a "LEGITIMATE" reason why I don't do some things.  And as all wonderful therapists will do, he called bullshit.  In retrospect it gets me thinking of the stories you hear about people who have major injuries doing things like climbing Mt. Everest, biking across Europe, or other just ridiculously amazing things while people with far fewer challenges are sitting at home bitching about having to pay taxes on their fancy sports car and vacation properties. And he said, "What if you made a decision to draw a line in the sand, or in my case, the quick sand, and from this day forward NEVER let your weight and the other stuff stop you from finding whatever it is that you want, be it a romantic relationship that you enjoy, travel, a career your passionate about, activity and a wonderfully vibrant full life.

I immediately in my head began to consider why I couldn't do that. And it's based upon my previous track record of for lack of a better word, just not thinking I was good enough to; complete goals, risk being hurt/disappointed without it crushing me, and when it comes right down to it very simply FEAR. If you don't risk, you don't fail.  But then again what I'm realizing is that you never succeed either.  In reflection I realize I've let fear drive my life right down apathy alley, depression drive and shitty self-esteem street.  And I think I might be done.  And through some of the work I've been doing in the past year I've grasped the nugget of faith that says, where fear was driving me is no longer good enough.  I deserve better. (Big dramatic gulp.....Eek!) But I have to say that out loud because if I don't, it will marinate in my head and I can so easily talk myself out of a really good idea.  Why I didn't let that little voice of fear and caution talk me out of that perm in the early '80's is beyond me, but that's another story.  ;-)

So that leads me back to the title of this post, "Now what do I do???"  And the wonderfully open, hopeful, amazing, and occasionally scary answer to that question is, whatever I want.  And I'm so glad to know that as long as I have so many wonderful people in my life to travel the journey with me, I will get there.  I feel like the journey is about to pick up speed and I'm excited....

I'll keep you posted.  Thanks for reading.

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!