The Damn Truth

I'm tired of do-overs.

I'm tired of picking myself back up, dusting myself off and forging bravely on.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of lugging all this weight around.

I'm tired of trying to delicately turn my 350 pound body over in bed in the morning to arise for the day.

I'm tired of plantar fasicitis (no idea if I spelled that correctly) and sciatica and aches and pains throughout my body due to the excess pounds.

I'm tired of trying to fit myself into and get myself out of restaurant booths with any sort of grace (and failing miserably).

I'm so bleeping tired of all of it.

Now...for the reality check...

My last post, I talked about following Andi's plan for her mom (found here).  I did that, pretty closely, and did that pretty well for about 4 weeks and lost several pounds, the total of which has already escaped me.  Then the holidays came along.  And my realization that the relationship I had talked myself into was never going to work.  And I ate.  And I ate a lot.

I ended my relationship on New Year's Eve, after just four short months.  A record for me - I usually hang on to the bitter end.  This was a huge victory for me.  I realized I deserved better.  This girl was so great.  Very sweet and giving and  we had so much in common.  But there were some underlying issues and truth be told, I just didn't feel the same way that she did.  And I couldn't spend any more time leading her to believe that I did or that I might.  There's really nothing lonelier than being in a relationship you don't really want to be in.  So, I chose being single.

And I'm really okay with that.  And this time, I'm holding out.  For the one.  The one person that I can love so hard and so completely that loves me back the same.  And hopefully, that person is out there.  And if not, that's okay.  Because I have had love and I have been loved.  Maybe not the way I have wanted or have wished for all the time, but I have had it.  Right now, it's all about me.

So, 2014 started with a clean slate.  And honestly, I've been doing pretty well!  I haven't been perfect, but I have lost some weight.  My scale screamed that unforgiving "E" for "Error" at me for about 2 weeks.  I estimate my weight was again anywhere from 355 to 365.  But now I'm actually seeing numbers again.  352 today.  It's going to be slow going.  But I will not ever allow myself back to the place of "Error" again.  I say that and it scares me, because what if I fail?

I guess I say all that to say this.  I'm not making promises anymore.  I'll do the best I can and approach each day with the attitude of this is a new day.  I want to move more.  I want to keep eating my fruits and veggies.  I want to lose weight.  I want to be healthier.  I want to move easily.  Everything else is icing on the cake.  (Okay, I'm lying a little bit, because yeah, of course I want to look good too).

This year - I intend to quit smoking (I started using an e-cig in November and am ready to ween myself off of that puppy too).  I intend to find an apartment that I love and furnish it.  I intend to eat more mindfully and healthily.  I intend to move my body more.  I intend to enjoy being on my own.  I intend to research having a child on my own.  I intend to renew my relationship with God.  I intend to trust God that if there is someone out there for me, He will find a way to bring us together.  I intend to listen more - to my body, to my loved ones, to my Lord, to the world around me.  I intend to just be.  I intend to love who I am, mentally, spiritually, physically.  Every last 352 pounds of me.

I am happy.  I am not perfect.  My life is not perfect.  Nothing will ever be perfect.  There are people who want to put me down, who want me to hate myself because I'm fat, because I am a lesbian (or bisexual or whatever the hell it is that I am - I'm still trying to figure that out), because I'm not 20, because I'm a different kind of Christian, because I am me.  But there are people who love me just as I am.  Who know me.  Who want the best for me.  Those are the people that matter.  God made me who I am, flaws and sins and all.  And right in this moment, in all its perfect imperfection, I am happy.  And I love who I am, who I've been, and who I have yet to be.

You Must Do...

My favorite quote in the world comes from Eleanor Roosevelt:  "You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

I'm forcing myself to post tonight precisely because I don't want to.  I don't want to post again saying that I had another failure of a day and that I honestly do not know how to dig myself out of this hole.  I'm so exhausted from fighting and thinking about it that I don't even know what else to say.  When does it get to the point where I stop thinking so much and just do?

I'm a scrapbooker and there's a class out there called "One Little Word".  I don't know anything about it really other than the idea is you have one word for the new year.  One word to describe your hopes and dreams for the upcoming year.  This got me to thinking.  If I could choose just one word to encompass all that I desire for my life, what would it be?  I decided on "peace".  Peace with my body.  Peace with food.  Peace with my finances.  Peace in all my relationships.  Peace with my job.  Peace with my surroundings.  Peace with my current place in life at right this moment.  That's all I want.  Peace.  I don't want constant insanity flowing through my mind.  I feel so out of control.  I feel so much like I've just let life pass me by.  My youth is fading fast.  I don't want to lose another minute.

So I have to start now.  But...how? 

The Holidays

I live in a house with 3 other adults and a 2 year old.  And it's December.  Which in my family means food and lots of it.  Christmas cookies, Christmas cakes and candies.  Thick, heavy soups and stews and meats.  Add to that my constant weening motivation and you have a Holiday Recipe for DISASTER. 

I don't know how, but despite two weeks of gaining, I'm not giving up.  It feels like such a joke to even type those words:  I'm not giving up.  The truth is, I feel like I have already.  And I did think to myself for about ten seconds this afternoon, "It's time to surrender.  You can try again after the holidays are over."

I don't know how to convey to anyone this hold that food has on me.  How it pulls me into it's embrace and won't let go no matter how hard I kick and scream and beg.  I do beg.  I beg on a daily basis to be free of its grip.  I wonder often why this is the battle I was given in my life.  I mourn for the years I've lost.  I've let them flit by as I have just wafted through this little life of mine, never really seizing anything - never really feeling like I'm living.  Always feeling that I'm somehow less than human because of my size.  That when references are made to "women", I'm not among those counted.

So, while I don't know how to get through the holidays without gaining, let alone while actually losing...some part of me doesn't know how to let it all go either and to throw in the towel.  Tomorrow is a new day.  And the next another new day.  And the next and the next after that. 

More On Fear

There is a wonderful podcast out there called "Yell at Your Fat".  Sadly, the hostess quit doing podcasts about 3 years ago, but I continually hold out hope she'll start up again.  I know it's a falst hope.  I'm not really sure why she stopped.  She's on my Facebook, so I know she's still out there bustin' a move.  She always posts race pictures, so it's not from falling off the wagon...but I digress...

This podcast was so vital in a previous weight loss effort several years ago.  I've put off listening to them again knowing it would only depress me, because I loved it so much and didn't want to get all addicted to it again knowing there would only be a handful of episodes.  But I bit the bullet and started listening again anyway while working out and on my drives to and from work.

There was something Wendy said in the second episode that really hit home with me.  She was talking about starting.  Just start.  Take the step off the platform and trust that it will work and it will.  And as she said these words I could feel myself taking a step and freefalling.  Freefalling and letting go of all the anxiety and worry and stress and concern that is associated with my weight and the loss there of. 

I think I've said it here before, but this is my last time joining Weight Watchers.  And what I mean by that is I'm not giving up.  I don't care if I lose one pound every year for the rest of my life.  I don't care if I gain a pound every year for the rest of my life.  I am not giving up.  Am I going to screw up?  Hell yes.  Are there going to be days I want to consume and maybe succeed in consuming an entire cake?  Yes.  Does that mean I need to allow out of control behaviors send me spiraling out of control?  No.  I pick myself up, dust myself off, and carry on.

And that's what I've been doing for the past two months. 

My weight loss is insignificant.  I think I've lost 7 pounds since I started.  I weight over 300 lbs.  Obviously I'm not doing something I should be.  I'll have several days where I do just great and then I'll have several more where my eating isn't where it should be.  That's putting it nicely.  It's a rollercoaster.  I thought about this quite a bit yesterday.  Why can't I be consistent.  Why can't I stop this crazy eating.

This is what I came up with.  A lot of times, my binge eating episodes occur on my way home from work.  There are a few reasons why:  I am usually hungry around this time.  But more importantly, there is a lot of anxiety and fear mixed up with that.  I have this crazy fear of being hungry and of having unsatisfied food cravings.  This is my thought process:  "What if I go home, having not eaten something completely fat and calorie laden and I eat dinner and that's all I have for the entire night?"

I mean, really?

What if I just have dinner and nothing else?  That thought sends me into a panic where I want to stuff unholy garbage in my face? 

Here's what I have not solved:  Why?  Why does this "fear", this thought send me in a tailspin?  I'll be keeping this very much in the forefront of my mind this week and especially over the weekend and let you know what I find out.

I Have Not Forgotten You...

I'm still here....

Floating around inside my head somewhere....

You see, the past few weeks have been incredibly unsuccessful.  But I refuse to quit.  Quitting to me would mean:  giving up hope.  So, while I have been eating pretty much anything I see and I haven't worked out in a week, I still have not given up hope.

I'm still going to my Weight Watchers meetings.  Last week I had a gain.  I fully expect to see a gain this week too, but I'm still going. 

I wish I could just throw away all the things holding me back...this fear of failure (or success?)  Whenever I think about going to the gym, I get the worst anxiety.  I need to be there.  Anyone who looks at me can see that. 

But...

I'm terrified of people looking at me, terrified of the thoughts going on inside their head to see this 330 lb woman on the treadmill doing her 30 minutes, getting off and going home.  I'm terrified of people's laughter or comments.  I feel like I'm in a constant cringe state.

Someday I'll be brave enough to show my face on here.  Someday I'll post a full body shot.  But right now, I'm too scared.  Too scared of the comments.  Too scared of someone recognizing me and realizing the number that goes with the person. 

I think I am going to start taking a weekly photograph.  Every Tuesday, a photograph of my progress (or lack thereof).  Tuesdays since that's my WW weigh in day. 

For now, dear readers, if you are still out there, that is all.

A Collection of Ramblings From the Events of This Week

Revelation and All Around General PSA from Saturday:  one piece of cake that I have preplanned for does not equal the unraveling of a week's worth of hard work and focus.  Who knew???

Thoughts on Walking from Sunday:  For some reason, over my years of fatitude...whenever I would go on a walk, I'd make sure never to walk along the same stretch of road twice.  This is so crazy to me now.  I know what my little self-consciou brain was thinking too.  A random shuffling of the following loop:  "people will wonder what I'm up to; they'll think I'm weird; they'll notice that I'm fat (that's the BEST one!)."  I honestly thought everyone was sitting in their windows waiting for me to pass by.

Now I'm older, slightly wiser, minusculely less self-conscious, and an inch saner.  In fact, on my walk Sunday, a car drove by and I didn't divert my attenion.  I instead met their eye (of course, i was wearing sunglasses...) and even did that little hand raise, half ass wave.  I then got shy and looked away before I could see if it was reciprocated...but...I still felt pretty damn brave.

Notes on my Weigh-In and Weight Watchers Meeting From Tuesday:  I was down 4.4 pounds.  At 331.4.  I think I originally said my weight last week was 335.5...that was incorrect.  It was 335.8.  Let it be noted here that as I typed 331.4, I automatically always type my weight as 1__._.  I always put that 1 in the hundreds place for some reason.  Probably because I can't imagine how in the world I got to this place that I'm at.  Now back to my weigh-in.  I was really disappointed.  Silly, huh?  4.4 pounds is actually really good and very reasonable for a first week.  I had really hoped to be back in the 20s, I guess.  Additionally, it just made me realize how much weight I have to lose and how far I have to go.  But I keep trying to tell myself, that no matter what, time is still going to pass.  I might as well pass it losing instead of gaining or staying stagnant.  That's all I really have to say about that.

The meeting topic was about incorporating more movement into your day.  I really haven't gotten back on the workout bandwagon yet.  I know it's coming, but I'm just not ready.  A big part of that is that I just started back to work this past week (I'm a teacher) and I'm trying to get into the groove of that.  I don't want to have unreasonable expectations for myself, because unreasonable expectations begets failure if past experience is any indicator.

However, I had already been doing one of the biggest things they suggested.  Parking further away to get even just a few more steps in, because those steps really do add up.  So I will continue to focus on that this week.

Some Words About Today:  As far as healthy eating and habits go, today pretty much sucked.  It wasn't the worst it could have been, but I ate way too much.  I did count all my points and didn't go over my weekly allowance, so there is that, which is a HUGE plus.  I felt very out of control.  No...very is not the right word.  Very out of control means entire containers of sweets and other such atrocities.  I just didn't do as well as I should have.  But I can't dwell on it, because just like unreasonable expections, dwelling begets failure.  So, having recognized that I was eating for all the wrong reasons - work stress, worrying about my grandmother, and so on, I formulated a plan for the future when I find myself eating things I know probably aren't the best choice or find myself eating when I'm really not hungry or find myself wanting to overeat. 

I will stop and ask myself:  Why do I want to eat this?  How will I feel after I eat this?  Is there a healthier alternative I could eat instead?  Is eating this worth the Points Plus I'll spend and/or worth feeling bad about it immediately after?  I think it's a good plan.  We'll give it a whirl the next couple of days, because I'm sure I'll find myself feeling pretty challenged with all the stuff that's going on over the next two weeks. 

And on that note, I'll leave you with this, my favorite quote (I even made it into a wall hanging for my bedroom):  "You must do the thing you think you cannot do."  - Eleanor Roosevelt.

What I've Been Up To...

I'm feeling very tired tonight, but feeling like I need to say something.  Anything.  So, here I am and hopefully the words will come to me in some form.

First, a confession:  Couch to 5K and I did not meet up on Saturday.  I didn't even put on those old, rundown running shoes.  However, I did go for a walk.  A brief one, but a walk, all the same.  And I wore my flip flops.

I think I reached a breaking point sitting in IHOP Saturday night.  I can't believe how incredibly uncomfortable I felt in my own skin.  And that feeling was very strong.   It's the kind of feeling you get before something big happens.  It was a scary feeling and a huge relief.  But I wasn't there just yet. 

Aftera couple of days of being a horribly irritable and ridiculously unpleasant person...due to feeling miserable, mouth pain, frustration, and just general horribleness...I mustered up some sort of courage, because I began making plans.  Plans for meals, plans for seeking some sort of counceling, plans for going back to Weight Watchers, plans for joining a gym. 

Plans. 

And today, I ate really well.  I told myself, I would try it out just for today.  And I ate things like this delicious salad.

And I rejoined Weight Watchers. 

And I filled a grocery cart full of things that would make Jillian Michaels weep from its sheer beauty.

And I made plans for tomorrow. 

And tomorrow morning, I'm going to wake up and tell myself, I can do this.  Just for today, I can do this. 

What Happens Next...

I'm feeling like tomorrow morning will be the exact moment in time when you and I become friends again, running shoes and Couch to 5K app...

I had my wisdom teeth pulled last week and I've felt like eating nothing but mashed potatoes and ice cream for the past week.  I haven't just eaten mashed potatoes and ice cream, but I've wanted to.  And in wanting to only eat those two things, I haven't wanted to eat other things, so somehow that has led me to eating things that are just there and usually "just there" in this house means "processed, salt-laden, sugar filled, and full-of-fat". 

All that has led to stepping on the scale and seeing that I have reached a weight of "Err".  Meaning I'm back over 330.  The high end of the scale is 330 pounds and my weight is an Err.  An error.  There are so many things right with how that sounds and so many things wrong with how that is.   

What Am I Afraid Of?

I’ve been plagued by this nagging feeling for a couple of years now that I’m terrified of losing weight.  To people who’ve never had a weight problem, that sounds ridiculous.  But to those of us who have (and I have spoken to and read things written by other people to this end) it’s very much a reality.

So what is it about losing weight that I’m so afraid of?

That I’ll fail.  I’ve lost and gained and lost and gained all of my adult life.  Going back to 11 or 12 years of age, I remember trying to lose weight and going on one diet or another.  So why would this time be any different?  Since the weight came back on over the past 3 years, I’ve made attempts at losing again.  I’ve probably started somewhere in the vicinity of 50 times in the past 3 years to get back on the wagon.  The most I’ve lost is maybe 15 lbs, then I throw in the towel and gain it all back and then some.  I’ve done this before.  It was hard.  It took a long time.  Doing it again overwhelms me and is daunting.

The commitment.  Weight loss is a commitment.  It’s hard work.  It takes planning, it takes time, it takes patience.  It takes self-control:  that ability to step back mentally from that giant container of ice cream and say, “I think I’ll just have one small scoop right now, instead of the entire thing in one sitting.”  I’ve never been fully able to grasp the whole “lifestyle change” concept.  I understand it.  It makes sense.  It looks good on paper.  But putting it into practice, for me, has not been fruitful.  Yet.

I’ll lose my excuse for not living.  “I can’t do that.  I’m too fat.”  It’s the refrain that plays in my mind over and over again.  Like going to a special salon for a haircut.  I’m too fat to go there, so I don’t have to.  Trying a new bar?  Forget it.  I’m too fat.  Lounging by the pool.  Oh, hahaha, don’t be silly.  I can’t do that.  I’m too fat.  The list goes on.

People will see me.  This is the biggie.  This is the one that hits the bull’s eye.  I won’t be invisible anymore.  My fat is my shield.  It keeps people at bay.  It’s my excuse for not allowing anyone to get too close.  Most of this, I know, is in my head.  Such as this list of why fat is my shield from people:  It’s the reason my girlfriend will leave me, instead of leaving me for any other reason.  My fat keeps attackers away.  My fat keeps people from wanting to get to know me.  My fat keeps new friends from asking me to go places. 

There comes a point when you have to take a risk with all things in life.  If I fail, so what?  If people see me, that’s okay.  Living life is why I’m here.  I’m ready for a change in the way I do things with food and exercise.  In the grand scheme of things, there are far more valid reasons to be afraid.

The Why

I am a completely ADD person.  I spontaneously started writing this as I flipped back and forth on my computer between my two favorite weight loss blogs, a scrapbooking workshop PDF and a chat window I have open with my girlfriend.

Friends (or folks, I hope to one day call “friends”), I have no idea what my actual weight is today.  I’m sure it’s hovering somewhere between 330 and 340 pounds.   I feel completely complacent, depressed, overwhelmed, saddened, frustrated, and angry (amongst other assorted emotions) over my weight.  No need for anyone else to beat me up over it all, I do more than enough of that on my own.  I can’t help but going back 3 ½ ish years in my mind to when I was really feeling strong and closer to my goal than ever before in my life.  And then came the great fall from atop the summit…

I was vegetarian at the time and had decided to vegan challenge myself.  I was working out 45 to 90 minutes a day.  I’d lost 89 pounds at that point in my life (I now weigh pretty much exactly, if not more, than I weighed at my highest weight when I started), I was embarking on all sorts of new, scary, and exciting experiences.  Then I did something stupid and mishandled a crate of water bottles and herniated two discs in my back. 

Now if I had really been the strong person I thought I was, I wouldn’t have let it deter me.  But it did deter me.  All I could do for close to a year was go to work, come home, eat something I didn’t really have to cook, then go to bed around 5 PM, because even sitting on the sofa was too excruciating.  As my mom very succinctly put it one day a few months into that experience, “D, I think you’re eating your pain.”  Yeah.  That’s exactly what I did.  There was the physical pain and the emotional pain that came along with all that was happening.  Now these 3 years later, I’ve become a statistic with what I affectionately (and denially, if you will allow that to be a word) refer to as my “sciatica weight”.

At the conclusion of this sob story, I could now launch into the entire history of my issues with weight and food, but I’m not going to do that right now.  If you stick with me, it’ll all come out in good time, but for now I’m going to leave it there. 

And I say all that to say this….

I’ve had it. 

I’ve had it with myself, the crap processed sugar coated deep fried salted diet I’ve been feeding my body for most of the past several years.  I don’t want it anymore. 

I don’t want to turn 40 nearing or surpassing 400 pounds. 

I don’t want to stand after a couple of hours of sitting and feel like I’m a 90 year old who has to take a few tentative steps to get going again because my body is so ravaged. 

I don’t want to dread all the times my sweet little 2 year old niece asks me to get on the floor to play with her, because it’s so awkward trying to arrange this large body in such a small space and then to get myself turned around well enough to the point where I can get back up again without the screaming pain in my knees. 

I don’t want to dread getting on an airplane to see my girlfriend in Ireland, worrying that the person next to me will complain that I’m taking up too much of their space; worrying about getting the seat belt extender out of my bag and across my lap before anyone sees what I’m doing; worrying about the searing discomfort I will feel from being crammed into a seat too small for 10+ hours. 

I don’t want to constantly fret about the state of my arms (or legs or butt or stomach) to the point where I feel like I can’t leave the house in any piece of clothing I currently own.  Or probably in any piece of clothing that exists anywhere in the world, save for a giant bed sheet fashioned into some sort of circusesque tent dress.

I don’t want to be terrified of going to a bar or nightclub with my girlfriend or friends, because I’m so worried that someone will make fun of me or call me names (oddly enough, I think bars and nightclubs are one of the only remaining places I haven’t had someone make fun of or comment on my size). 

But as much, if not more than all of those things, I don’t want to feel unworthy of living any longer.  I feel less than human.  I feel less than a woman.  I feel inconsequential. 

I have an amazing girlfriend who loves me just as I am.  I have the most incredible family a person could ask for.  I have good friends.  I have a job I love most of the time.  I have a roof over my head and a driveable car.  I am very blessed and fortunate.

But I still don’t feel like I should be allowed to be happy.  Is it the cause or a result of my weight?  I don’t know.  But I am ready to find out.