Friday, August 28, 2015

A Step Back

pic via www.ccvend-usa.com
I felt it was important, before I get into the current journey, to step back and look at how I got to the point of exploring bariatric surgery in the first place.  I own it.  It's mine. 

But that wasn't always the case.

While I'm not big on most reality shows, I've been watching My 600 Pound Life for many years.  I was always curious to see how people managed to get that size, because I wasn't yet willing to acknowledge how I'd gotten myself to 379.6 pounds. 

In previous seasons, Dr. Now has only made his patients prove they could lose weight before he agreed to perform the procedures.  That has led some of the patients to struggle to own the underlying causes of their obesity.  

I say that to mean that if you watch the show, most of the patients have abandonment issues, have dealt with physical, mental, or emotional abuse, and/or have depression or anxiety.   Without addressing those underlying issues, it's difficult to be able to create a new reality.

In the most recent season, nearly every patient has undergone some type of therapy.  Dr. Now might have done this with other patients before, but this is the first season where it was very clearly shown. 

Early on, I only owned that the fact that I have PCOS was keeping me from losing weight.  With the condition, it's very easy to put weight on.  But each pound you put on becomes a beast to take off again.  So, that's what I used.  I couldn't lose weight because the PCOS didn't let me.  I'd take some off, put some back, take less off, put more back on.   

Finally, just after I turned 30, I realized that I'd have to do something different to have something different.  I had to own the fact that while PCOS might have been the biological cause, there was at least another reason:  I LOVE FOOD. 

I love to eat all those wonderful things that aren't good for me:  egg rolls, chow mein noodles, fried rice, French fries, hamburgers...augmented by the occasional sweet or cake. 

I worked to change my relationship with food.  I knew eliminating them all and saying "I can't have this" only led to guilt and binging when I slipped.  So, I started by refusing to feel guilty for eating the "bad" foods.  I really tried to see that those foods are made every day, so I didn't need to eat as much of them as possible.    I subbed a small order of fries for a supersized one.  I subbed a salad for the side with my cheeseburger. 

And it worked for a while.  I was able to lose, in total, about 115 pounds.   And then some of it crept back.  I struggled to get any more of the weight off, and I began restricting even more of what I was eating.  That still didn't bring the scale down any more.

I started the sleeve process in February of 2014.  Two weeks in, I learned E was coming.  So, I delayed (obviously).  I hadn't gained any weight during my pregnancy, but I started my pregnancy about 30 pounds lighter than my lowest in the last few years.   After she was born, I focused on my eating and worked to slowly drop the weight again.  No matter what I did, it seemed like it wasn't going anywhere. 

Because I was struggling with postpartum anxiety, I had already started on medicine.  I also decided before I'd take any other steps, I was going to really address the underlying cause of my obesity.

Protection.  My fat was comfortable.  I understood that life.  Trauma of my childhood led me to keep my weight on as a shield.  It was also one of the driving forces of my anxiety.  I feared for my child, my children really.  I struggled with how I might make their lives different.

I knew that before I could venture back into the sleeve process, I HAD to release myself from that prison.  I needed to make sure that I could handle being the person without the physical protection I'd carried for so many years.

I went looking for a psychiatrist who specialized in helping bariatric patients.  I found another Dr. R.  I met with her for several weeks, talking through my struggles, my stresses, my triggers.  I didn't have to be brave; I didn't have to be strong; I didn't have to keep it together.  I was able to be vulnerable, something I'd always avoided because I have to be the strong one.

After several weeks, I decided that I was ready to move forward.  I still have moments where I battle those fears, but now I can recognize them for what they are, talk myself through them, and move forward.

It was only when I could do that: own the eating, understand the cause, manage them, that I knew I could have the surgery.



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Again, my journey.  You have to do what you do for you, meaning talk to your own physicians and make your own choices.  This is not a substitute for medical advice.  :)

 

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