"Those Were The Days, My Friends!"

The last couple of months have been extraordinary for me and my family.  First, I became a great-grandmother for the first time ever.  Brooklyn is her name and she is full of sunshine.  Her mama and daddy are totally in love with their little girl, and I am filled with hope and excitement for this family's future.  Having myself come from a dysfunctional family, it is definitely good to see active parenting and the joy in their eyes when they look at this precious girl.

Second, I have started a new soon-to-be non-profit organization called The Reuben Project.  Our mission is to organize knitters, crocheters, folks who sew, and crafters with the objective being to bring new, handcrafted, warm and colorful hats and scarves to the citizens who live without the safety of a house on the streets of my city.  We believe that the giving of handmade gifts to folks who have so little will help nourish the souls of recipient and crafter alike.  This has taken a great deal of my time and The Reuben Project is still in its infancy, but it is rewarding work.**

Third, and definitely not last, I have finally reached my goal BMI for my knee replacement surgery.  My surgeon advised me that he would perform the surgery as soon as my BMI was 40.0 AND as of today, it is!  I am still obese, but I am overjoyed to tell you folks that I have now lost a total of 97 lbs.  It has not been all fun and games by any means, and I am sure that the next 83 or so pounds will not come off any easier than the last 97, but I am only 3 lbs away from hitting that magic number of 100 lbs lost.  Unbelievable.

With surgery set just 9 days away on February 15th, the abstract "someday I will be able to walk" is becoming real, along with the anticipatory panic of "I can't believe I am going to allow a man with a knife near my body."  This journey I am on is all based on trust and hopeful optimism.  I trust that I am capable of losing weight; I trust that I will be able to recuperate well through rigorous physical therapy and activity; I even trust that my surgeon is not just any man with a knife, but a skilled doctor who works exclusively with knees and has many years of applied service in the operating room.  I am hopeful that everything I am trusting will come to fruition and I will someday soon be able to take a walk around the block without hobbling in constant painful agony.

I have always said that one of the key reasons for writing this blog is to leave a memory of my journey in written words, so that I cannot forget or ignore my past.  When an abscessed tooth has you writhing in agony, that is all you can think about.  It expands its fierce hold on your mind and fills you with terror that is crippling.  But after you have visited the dentist and had the infected tooth treated with antibiotics, extraction, or crowning, you are eased into a different kind of pain that is easier to handle.  You are no longer obsessed with excruciating agony, but are instead transported to a hope-filled world of knowing it will soon be over.  Later, when you have recuperated and no longer have any pain in your mouth, you quickly forget the actual agony you just went through... it becomes intellectual, rather than visceral, and life is then worthwhile once again.

 

I am hoping that this analogy can be applied to my journey to knee replacement therapy, and that soon this constant sharp pain in my knees with be a distant memory of my past.  However, I do not ever wish to lose sight of what I have gone through to get to that place, because it is in forgetting that I become vulnerable to redoing my past mistakes.  Therefore, I need to put into words what happens when I ignore my body's needs and give in to ridiculous thinking, or as some call it, magical thinking.  

An excellent example of my ridiculous thinking would be thus:  "One Snickers a day won't hurt... it will help me forget about cigarettes."  Believe it or not, this was my mantra when I quite smoking in 1994.  I took myself straight to Costco (a big box warehouse style store) and purchased a large box of Snickers candy bars... a box that contained 48 full size bars that were only 250 calories each.  I managed to gain 90+ lbs that first year of abstaining from cigarettes.  "Why?" you ask.  Because it simply didn't stop there... one Snickers a day to stave off nicotine cravings became two, then three a day.  And, candy once again found its way into my daily diet and soon became an obsession with horrifying consequences.  Before I knew it, I was suddenly 316 lbs and could barely move at all, without huffing and puffing, and mouth breathing whenever I was forced to walk.  The pain in my knees had begun, but was not as great then, probably because I still had some cartilage, but movement was definitely a luxury.  My ridiculous, magical thinking had led me into a dangerous thicket of brambles and I was lost, unable to move without being pricked and stabbed with the sharp thorns of my faulty thinking.

There is so much I need to remember and never lose sight of.  So much that I have already begun to forget while losing this 97 lbs.  While it is important to keep a visceral image of the pain I experienced throughout this journey, it may be more important to remember that sugar and salt are my enemies when they are used without compulsion.  It doesn't take much before I am sniffing the ground to hunt down every bit of sugar and salt that I can find and indulge my taste buds with.  

Just a few months ago, I had some very yummy, luxurious, expensive caramels as a tasty treat.  Needless to say, I was soon hooked on caramels and the way they melt in your mouth with that lovely combination of sugar and salt.  I bought package after package of this particular brand of caramels and indulged more and more each day until I was needing to purchase two-three bags per week.  Because these caramels were exquisite, they were priced higher than the ordinary Kraft caramel variety, which is mostly sugar combined with a bare taste of caramel.  I knew my family couldn't bear the expense of the higher priced caramels when purchased in a large quantity, so what do you think I did?  Did I quit eating them?  Did I pare down to a reasonable number of caramels?  Certainly not.  I am nothing if not compulsive and extreme in my behavior towards food, snacks, and addictive substances. I started buying Kraft caramels.  With Kraft, I was able to up my intake of the caramels AND spend less, because they were on sale during the holidays.  At first it did not show on the scale, but by the time I was eating a third of a bag of Kraft caramels a day, my weight was already going up, and I was seriously scared that it was not just my usual water weight fluctuation.  

So the question is, how many times do I have to walk the same path, with the same results, before I figure out that path is full of shame and dangerous to my life?  Unfortunately, I suspect that I will be vulnerable to ridiculous thinking all of my life.  If one is good, two or three have to be better, right?  I am an addict and I will always be vulnerable to substance abuse.  I cannot escape that truth, but I do not have to let it take me for a ride.  It is my responsibility to concentrate and focus my energy on those things that allow me to feel good about myself.  And, as one of my tools, this blog gives me immediate access and allows me to relive these rocky days in my journey, before I am left with only an intellectual memory of my days as someone without hope of escaping the constant daily severe agony of barely walking, while hiding the shame .

**Currently, The Reuben Project can be found on Facebook under the same name, or click The Reuben Project link listed under Working for Equality and Social Justice on the right hand side of my blog.  We are always in need of supplies and materials.  If you are interested in supporting our work, you may contact me on The Reuben Project Facebook page, or visit the medusaCreations shop on Etsy, where 20% of all net profits are donated to the project.  

The Reuben Project:    https://www.facebook.com/groups/932844190131890/  

medusaCreations Shop:  https://www.etsy.com/shop/medusaCreations?ref=hdr_shop_menu

"The Dreaded Plateau"

It's July 9th and this is the week I am supposed to schedule my knee surgery.  I have not done so yet, and I won't be able to do so anytime soon, simply because I am on a freaking plateau.  I haven't lost one pound for over a month now, which means that I have not come any closer to attaining my doctor's goal for me, which is a BMI of 40.0.  In fact, if truth be told, I have gained 10 lbs since March 24th, which has me at a BMI of 44.6.  Ouch!  (Remember that yo-yo thing we talked about last week?)  

So right now, I am 30 lbs away from my goal.  I've been trying to convince myself that it is all water weight.  My legs are certainly swollen, and have been for most of this last month.  I have also had an excessive amount of pain in my knees while walking... standing, sitting, sleeping,  Both are telltale signs that I am holding excess fluid in my body.  It is also true that I have been somewhat lax about taking my diuretic medication on a daily basis.  Given my history of long, drawn out plateaus, with a sudden drop in weight of 5-20 lbs inside a week's time, my story to myself might even be true.

But what if it's not!  What if I have truly gained this entire 10 lbs, thereby destroying the painstaking work I put into losing that 10 lbs in the first place?  What's going to prevent me from gaining the entire 85 lbs that I have lost so far?  And, more to the point, what will prevent me from gaining another 85 lbs beyond that?

I forget the terror of being unable to draw a deep breath... the pain of attempting to stand and the agony of walking even one step away from my chair.  It is all too easy to forget what life used to be like before the changes that I made to make myself more comfortable in my body.

I spent years weighing 225 lbs.  Regardless of how much weight I lost, I always returned to the 225 lb mark.  That is until I quit smoking and found myself eating my way up to 316 lbs within a year's time.  What is interesting to me is that I actually lost 85 lbs in my twenties... I went from 225 lbs to 140 lbs... and I kept that extra weight off for a number of years.  However, when I did gain weight again, I managed to return to the original 225 lbs, and then gained yet another 85 lbs for good measure.  Imagine!  I actually doubled the 85 lbs I had originally lost, and found a new high weight to settle into.

Sound familiar?  I took off 85 lbs a few years ago, and then gained 45 of them back.  Fortunately, I came to my senses before reaching 280 lbs.  But here I am, having taken off that same 45 lbs (returning to a total of 85 lbs lost) and what is happening?  Again, I ask, what will prevent me from gaining double what I have currently lost (170 lbs), and finding yet another new weight high to settle into???

I am hoping that the answer is myself, even though it hasn't felt like it lately.  I managed to lose the rhythm of my hope, excitement, and yearning for my new knees.  I forgot what it felt like before I lost 85 lbs... I forgot that my new knees are dependent upon a goal weight and BMI... I even forgot how easy it is to regain weight after losing it.

I haven't stopped myself from consuming more sodium than is healthy.  Nor have I followed my weight loss plan... I haven't written in my journal; I haven't posted to my blog; I haven't kept track of my food intake or my portions or the types of foods I am consuming.   Basically, I have not been doing anything to prevent holding the water or gaining weight.  I have not been accountable to myself or anyone else in any way, shape, or form.

So now what?  How do I get back on track?  Believe it or not, my swollen fluid filled legs are a painful reminder of what lies ahead if I totally lose control.  They are my first step in remembering what I do not want to return to.  Memory is the key, I think.  I need to remind myself of why I am on this weight loss journey.

This blog is one of my memory tools... I remember through writing about being obese.   Writing centers me and gives me a sense of purpose that I can translate into losing weight and becoming fit.  So let me be accountable to both you and me.  I will post my thoughts to this blog on a more regular basis.  Hopefully, I will pick up the rhythm of hope, excitement and yearning in the process.

"Once a Yo-Yo... Always a Yo-Yo!"

Wow... My last post was on April 1st of this year. What is that? 94 days ago???  Basically, three months since my last communication. Way too long. It appears that I have let far too many things allow me to neglect the very essence of me... my one true passion... which is writing, and most especially, writing for you!

So without further ado...

So, let's talk about yo-yos. 

You mean the little round toy on a string that Tommy Smothers, the Yo-Yo Man, swings and gyrates and manipulates to perfection? That wonderful spinning toy of tricks where you can learn to Walk the Dog or Rock the Baby or go Around the World? First invented in China... no, Greece... no, the Philippines... suffice it to say that the yo-yo has been around for a very long time, much longer than the Pedro Flores version of the 1920's, which was later purchased by Donald F. Duncan.

No, not that yo-yo, sillies. I am talking about that annoying up and down weight loss/weight gain so many of us experience throughout our lives. Some say, once a yo-yo, always a yo-yo. Sounds pretty defeatist, but there is a certain amount of truth to that statement.  Anyone who has yo-yo'd their way up and down the scales knows that the inevitability of gaining and losing weight is certainly a reality for some of us unfortunate souls. This is not to say that we are defeated before we have even started.

Call it genetics, call it environment, call it loss of self control, or hell, call it bad luck! The truth is, obesity simply happens for a myriad of reasons. I accept that I am an obese woman, with a body shape similar to my mother and grandmother and even some aunts, nieces and cousins. That speaks to both genetics and environment. 

But what about self control? I am a person with an addictive personality, who has a passion for anything that can feed her wild compulsions, thereby, giving her a reason to get up everyday. There was a time that I drank alcohol, until the blackouts took away the pain and isolation I lived within... Hello, my name is Holly and I'm an alcoholic.

Likewise, in my youth, a little drug called speed had a magical touch for making me feel alive inside my body. For twenty years, I smoked anywhere from 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day. Frankly, some of my best writing happened while I was stoned, one way or another... Hello, my name is Holly and I'm a drug addict.

I love the taste of food. I love the rich nuance of flavors and I love the aromatic sensibilities. If this was the extent of my love for food, I would be called a gourmet, a connoisseur of fine food... Hello, my name is Holly and I'm a compulsive overeater.

For many years, I lived my life replacing one addiction with another... alcohol, drugs, food, caffeine... let's not even get me started on my collection of office, art and craft supplies. Some of these addictions have been conquered to the extent that I accepted that I was powerless and worked to relieve myself of their insidious grip on my life. More importantly, I have spent countless hours in therapy and meditation and reading and writing and journaling to discover that my addictions are a melding of my mind and body, attempting to create a safe space for me to fit into. The pain and isolation of repeated abuse teaches many of us to expect nothing from life, and for me, to search diligently for a way to not exist.

So what were we talking about? Ahhh, yes, self control, or the lack thereof. There is a widespread opinion within the addiction communities that we addicts have no self-control. I agree, and yet, I disagree. I have not had a drink in the last 33 years; my addiction to illegal drugs was broken within a year or two of that; it has been 22 years since I smoked a cigarette; and my love affair with caffeine crashed to a halt sometime in the last decade.

I have great self-control once I admit I am powerless over an aspect of my life that is leading me into suicidal defeat AND make a decision to make the changes necessary to respect and love myself enough to don the armor of courage and do battle with my addiction of the moment. Don't I? This is where I disagree with the assumption that we recovering addicts lack self-control. 

Didn't I say I both agree and disagree? Well, yes, I believe I did. My agreement lies in the endless ways I am able to exchange one addiction for another; given that I have never been actually totally free of addiction and compulsion, I would venture to say that my image of my own self-control might be skewed.

What does this have to do with being a yo-yo, endlessly bouncing up and down the weight scale? You tell me. I think the answer is as individual as we all are. For me, my addiction to food allows me to be a yo-yo. We all have to eat to survive, so it is impossible to mark our calendars with the date we last took a bite of food, in the same way as we can with our last drink or cigarette. Conquering a food addiction seems to be a never ending task that works one day and not another day.

Personally, I choose to refrain from the use of the word, never! I will never go back... I will never be fat again... I will never eat anything unhealthy, ever, ever, never! To do so would make me a liar, over and over and over again. I prefer to allow myself the courtesy of one day at a time. Today, I will not take a drink. Today, I will not smoke a cigarette. Today, I will eat like a sensible person.

Yes, I am an alcoholic, a drug addict, a compulsive overeater, and a dog-gone yo-yo, but I believe in choice. We always have a choice to make sense of our lives and defeat our demons. Don't get me wrong. I need to remind myself often of this ability to choose, but the choice is always there.

"Pain Relief is a Mighty Incentive!"

I am someone who needs to weigh herself everyday.  Yes, I know the weight loss experts advice is to weigh in moderation; no more than once a week.  However, the experts one size fits all approach does not work for a person who has considerable water weight issues.  I can actually gain 20 lbs in 10 days, only to have it disappear just as quickly.  Because of this, my doctor prescribes a water loss medication that attempts to rectify the problem.

Every time I have attempted the once a week weigh in, I have been sadly disappointed.  So often, the scale paired with my water weight issue does not show me an accurate weight.  Sadly, it is not very encouraging to have your weight remain the same after a week of pinching points or counting calories... or, worse yet, go up after working all week for the reward of marking off pounds lost.  The scale becomes a symbol of everything you are not doing right, and try as you might, it is impossible to keep telling yourself that the weight loss is there, when the scale says no.

"Measure yourself, sweetie.  You lost inches."  A familiar refrain and one that is not without truth.  The scale is not and cannot be the only instrument that measures our success when attempting to lose weight.  Taking measurements at regular intervals can be a great success tool, just as feeling the fit of your ever expanding pants gives immense satisfaction.

The truth is that motivation is a little thin in times of immeasurable chasms.  The valley of obesity is not for the faint of heart, and yet... there we are.  Lost and alone in a wilderness of fat that seems to be larger and stronger than we can ever be.  It takes a mountain of courage to take that first step towards weight loss and fitness.  It also takes unending bravery to continue down the path, through the highs and lows, over the plateaus, and into the darkest forests of savage loneliness.  For, in truth, we are alone on this journey.  We must face the terror of the voices in our own brains, constantly voicing concern over our choices.

"Didn't you eat a rather large portion of baked ham yesterday?  How do you expect to lose weight when you are constantly make poor choices?" That is the voice I call my Vindictive Mother.  She is never content to just urge me to look at my choices; she has to make sure that I know what a failure I am being.  Then there is my Chicken Soup Mother.  "You might as well have a piece of pie, dear.  You deserve a little something special after such a bad week."  The Chicken Soup Mother is always there to urge a splurge, regardless of whether one is warranted or not.

My Defeatist Mother can't help but clarify how far away my goals are and just how often I have failed to reach my goals.  "You aren't going to show any weight loss this week anyway.  I don't think you are really trying."  The Defeatist Mother knows how many times you have walked this path and failed to reach your end goal.  She also knows how often you have reached that goal, only to turn around and gain your weight back, plus some.  And, she keeps those failures ever present in the back of my mind.

How many of you have named the voices in your head?  That's the first step to defeating their evil intent to destroy your success.  I have found that the best way to do battle with these voices is to armour myself with support.  Find as many kind and gentle voices as I can, people who are seriously happy and excited by my journey.  I have to reach out and open up to others about what I am doing.  Give them an opportunity to celebrate my weight loss and offer their support.  Without a doubt, if you are willing to be open and honest about your journey, the respect and happiness you meet will filter into your own being, replacing the strident voices of defeat. 

It is imperative that I follow this path of weight loss and fitness, because I have absolutely no cartilage in my knees.  I am in a state of endless and agonizing pain, where standing for any length of time past thirty seconds is beyond uncomfortable; where walking creates a grinding of bones in my knee cap and a shifting creak as the bones slip and slide against each other; and where sitting is my best option for pain relief, but even then, finding a comfortable way to ease my knees can be impossible.

I tell you all this, not for sympathy, but to explain why this journey is so important to me.  My knee doctor tells me that he would be willing to replace my knees, but not until I reach a BMI of 40%.  For me, that is somewhere in the range of 210-220 lbs.  That is a mere 17-27 lbs for me to drop off of this obese body to get to surgery.  

Considering that I have already lost 79 total pounds from my top high of 316 lbs, shouldn't this be a walk in the park to get to the goal weight?  Probably not.  Every single pound that I am able to drop represents a gritty battle against my aging metabolism, my water weight issues, and my own history of yo-yoing up and down the weight loss graph.  That doesn't mean that I won't get there, and soon, because I am determined to change these tiring, arthritic knees.  I want to walk, and dance, and play with my dog; I want to chase my grandchildren, and bicycle the Spring Water Corridor, and not give a thought to whether I can push past the pain of standing up.

My goal is to have my left knee replaced this coming September.  My hope is that I won't waver as I get closer to the surgery.