Refresh

Sitting here, looking at websites, wasting time really. Now, I don’t think that looking at websites is always wasting time – I have many that I check frequently and dearly love – but if I’m repeatedly clicking “refresh” at Bloglines, I know I’m avoiding doing something else.

I need to get deeper into what it is that I’m avoiding. I have plenty to do, and plenty that I want to do. Then why don’t I do it? Sometimes, it’s because of the horrible fatigue that I get from the fibro (but if that’s the case, why do I keep surfing instead of going to bed at night?). Sometimes, it’s because I really am tired and need a break. Sometimes, well sometimes, I don’t know why I do it. I’m avoiding something, but I don’t really know what.

I have lots of things I want to write about – why do I never get to that point?

I have books I want to read….website redesigns to ponder….many things on my to-do list that have been put off for far too long.

I used to feel guilty about spending time on myself – on resting, relaxing, or taking time out for me. Thankfully I am doing a bit better about that and thanks to counseling can see sometimes when that’s the case.

But times like this, I don’t really understand what’s keeping me back. What am I afraid of? What do I really want?

Maybe I am afraid to know.

Field Trip to the Familiar

So I went in for a fill today. I was up 5 pounds. Truthfully, for how bad this last month has been, I got off easy. That and it’s my monthly-bloating time, so the damage may not even be a whole 5 pounds. But still, 5 pounds up is NOT where I should be going. That only makes me about 12 pounds down since LAST AUGUST.

I have debated whether or not to go in and finally bit the bullet and went today. I have been wide open lately. Pizza-open. Bagels-open. If you have a Band, you KNOW that’s wide, wide open.

But I have so much self-doubt. Am I really that open? Or am I just pushing it? I remember what it was like to choke on a bit of bread, so I really think it’s that I need more fill. Or is it that I’m just a failure? As always. As every time before.

My mind wants to hop on the subway to Crazy Shame Town. It’s a free trip for me, on account of all the times I’ve been there. It’s where I get to stop by the Mirror of Doom, throw coins into the Goddess of Numbers fountain, head over to the May-as-Well-Binge all-night diner, catch the cinema double feature of “This Time it Will be Different” followed by “No It Won’t – You’re Forever a Failure”, and wind up the visit with a long walk through the Hang Your Head You Disgusting Blob of Fat park.

The nurse today was the usual mix of encouragement “It’s only 5 pounds – you were on vacation. You’ll get it off no problem” and shame “What are you doing eating crap like that? When you’ve still got 80 pounds to lose like you do, you shouldn’t even let yourself near that stuff!” Um, thanks? Really, does that shame stuff work on folks? If it did, wouldn’t we all be Kiera-Knightly-thin by now? If shame=ability to lose weight, I’d be in rehab with an IV right now, hanging on to consciousness. Is it really helpful to get it from the very same clinic that assured you they were there to help and that they understood why all the shaming/etc of your past didn't work?

I need some focus and some clarity. In a few areas of my life. It’s coming – I hope. Slowly.

The Screwed-Up Perfectionist Does it Differently

Through some good debriefing and therapy, I figured out (at least some of) the source of the recent depression I went through and the scary alcohol cravings.

This season, this last set of holidays from Thanksgiving till December, is the first one I have done differently. I mean really differently – wholly, from-my-heart, at-my-core differently.

In my family (and therefore in my head) the only two choices available to me were: Complete Screw-Up, or Absolute Perfectionist. I tried my hardest to do the Perfectionist thing, and got pretty good at it in general, but any time I made the slightest mistake, I slipped (in my family’s eyes) into a Complete Screw-Up. (I will acknowledge this was not the intent of my family, and that my interpretation is unique to me. I have to deal with my own head, however it got programmed.)

This has had many different and sneakily pervasive effects on the way I do things: I think I have subconsciously chosen Screw-Up sometimes because I know I can’t do Perfectionist (no one can do it well enough, really). One huge instance (and the one this blog is about) is my weight.

My choices in the past were: Eat Absolutely Perfectly from Thanksgiving till New Year’s, loudly proclaiming my intent at every opportunity and eschewing all sweets or anything “bad”. I should be above the rest - haughty even – disdaining all those without my amazing and admirable Will Power. I have lost 35 pounds at a time in 8-week chunks this way. OR, choice two was Complete Screw-Up: eating every sweet that came my way, whether it tasted good or not. I didn’t know when I’d get to binge like this again, and we all know I’m a Screw-Up anyway, so why even try? I hung my head in shame, right next to the dessert table. I’d easily gain 10-35 pounds in a month this way.

Multiply those choices times a thousand, through many different seasons and instances, and you get part of the picture of how I got to be 314 pounds. (And how I have lost big chunks of weight in short periods, only to gain it back again, plus more).

But this year, I did it differently. I started planning ahead and stuck to the schedule to try to minimize the effects of my chronic pain and unpredictable fatigue. I had no all-night wrapping or shopping sessions, my decorations went up (and came down) as planned, and I enjoyed many a gathering while planning well-enough in advance for each to truly enjoy them. Were the events Perfect? Not by a long-shot. But I avoided the Screw-Up Crisis Mentality and the Absolute-Perfectionist-Whose-Events-Are-Perfect-But-Who-Is-
Emotionally-Unavailable Mentality and was content with Good Enough.

Also, I was Real with the food. Sometimes, I had sweets when they looked particularly good, but I could always stop after a couple. After one cocktail party, where I drank a martini too many and had an appetizer too many, I had a horrible night’s sleep. The next day I had another party to attend where I chose to only consume water. Not out of Absolute Perfectionist virtue, or out of fear of becoming Complete Screw-Up, but because THAT’S ALL MY BODY WANTED. I learned from the night before and decided to do it differently the next day – not out of shame, or out of pride, but out of desire. It was thrilling, and freeing to be so in tune with my needs.

Throughout the holidays, I lost about 7 pounds. I gained 2 back during that horrible week of sickness (physical and mental) but the scale has quickly dropped back, 3 pounds lower than before. 10 pounds in the two months from Thanksgiving to the end of January? I’m really proud of this. I didn’t gain 15 pounds (like last year) or lose some crazy Perfectionist pounds that are waiting to jump right back on – I just slowly and surely, by listening to my body and using my tool (including a fill and then slight un-fill) am losing weight.

Realizing how differently I did everything threw my subconscious into a tailspin. It didn’t know what to do if I wasn’t either Absolute Perfectionist or Complete Screw-Up. I sabotaged myself for a few days by not taking my meds and by drinking too much. The laryngitis kept me from my therapist, who might have helped me figure it out sooner. It is really difficult to make true changes, changes at the core. My subconscious likes my old crisis mentality and my weight – it’s familiar and makes me feel normal, even if it’s bad-normal. I got out of touch with my needs and tried to head back to the Screw-Up role that is more comfortable.

I am so grateful for my Lap-Band and for my therapist and for all my new-found and hard-earned skills that keep me from falling down the abyss into places where I can no longer climb back. This is the real victory. This is where it counts.

Stepping it Up

I had an appointment with my beloved PCP today. With all of my health problems, I was amazed that I hadn't been in to see her since August. Sadly, I have only lost 3 pounds since then. *sigh*

She is so awesome and is the one who encouraged me to get this surgery in the first place. She truly cares about me and takes time to listen to me. She is going to help with the insurance debacle, and she also set me a goal: Lose 10 more pounds by January 4. It's totally doable, but is going to take some stepping up on my part- both with food choices and with making more frequent appointments with my clinic. She encouraged me to move my other health stuff to the side for now and put all my focus into the Band right now.

She affirmed me and we did celebrate that in this year of big stressors, I have lost weight, not gained. She listened to all my frustration with the clinic (ultra-conservative fills, and unsupportive staff) and repeated some advice she had given me early on that I had fully intended to follow, yet didn't: go in to the clinic every 3 weeks, no matter what. I'm not sure why I didn't follow through with that - I think it might be because I had 3 visits in a row where the nurses were shaming and unkind and then here is the insurance problem that they've exaserbated, blaming me all the while. This kind of poor support and shaming mixed with my deep-seated issues (nobody gets to be 300+ pounds unless they have issues, trust me) shut me down. I also continue to struggle with choices and I think I was afraid to go in and hear the messages that I needed to hear about nutrition and focus and working on this weight loss in a determined way. I needed to be told in an empowering way. My clinic may not be able to do that, but my PCP does. It's sad that I can't get emotional support from my clinic, but I need to stop feeling bad about that and start seeking that support other places. I need to use the clinic as another tool.

It's time for me to step up: to not let the messages from my clinic dictate how I feel, to continue to work through my issues and not turn to food, and to work harder on making really good choices. The band can't do all the work. Not even close. I have to do my part, too.

Now I have a challenge - watch me come through!

Brick by Brick

So I’ve been binging this week. It’s been rough, but it’s also made me really appreciate my band. I can still eat 4 pieces of candy and some popcorn, but I can no longer eat half a loaf of bread toasted with peanut butter. It took me a while to realize what was going on. This is such familiar territory for me: eating instead of feeling. I was so disconnected from my feelings that I was numb – feeling instead like things were “fine” when deep down I knew they weren’t really fine, but I couldn’t figure out what was bothering me.

In therapy today, it all came out. In real life, there don’t seem to be the “breakthroughs” you read about or watch on TV. So rarely, in real counseling, is there a single moment that shatters the glass that’s keeping you locked in your bell jar. Never is there the one idea that pierces through all the layers of defenses you have so carefully built. Instead, it is slow, tedious work. Brick by brick, you dismantle the edifices of dysfunction. Some bricks give way easily, some have to be pried out of place with great force. Some require lots of patience and need to be loosened by myriad levers of varying shape. Each brick is removed, examined, caressed, recoiled at, chucked, saved, worried over, or smashed into a million pieces. Sometimes my unconscious goes back through and rebuilds part of the walls.

Today we looked again at a brick I’ve seen many times before, woven into the walls of my defenses. It’s the brick that says “I’m not enough”, “What I do doesn’t matter”, and “Why me?”. These are heavy bricks. They are misshapen and ugly and so firmly wedged into place.

Anyway, so this week’s binge and this week’s bricks have been looked at. This is much more than I could have accomplished before the Band. I would have been so overcome by shame and fear that the binging would have gone on for a while and I would’ve made myself miserable – the familiar kind of miserable (fat, undisciplined, ugly) to avoid feeling the deep miserable underneath (unloved, unworthy, misunderstood). But by dealing with the underneath issues, I can finally dismantle the wall, brick by laborious brick.

This is not an easy journey, not by a long shot. But the Band is truly helping. It is harder and yet more rewarding than I anticipated. And oh, so very very slow.

Non-compliant

I had my 4th fill today, along with my first un-fill. (At first, the nurse put an additional 1.0cc in, but then decided to take 0.5 back out when she heard how much I was burping, just trying to swallow my water).

As I talked with her, and then as I sat down to lunch which ended in a PB, I realized I was being non-compliant. To be honest, the realization shocked me.

I'm not non-compliant. I'm a good little girl, a rule-follower. I'm being GOOD! I CHOSE this surgery - I KNOW what I need to do. I'm READY. Other people who complain are doing something wrong - but not me!

But here's the cold, hard truth: I AM being non-compliant. For the first time, I realized how much of an addiction the food is. I felt like a true addict: sitting down at lunch to eat my (forbidden) bread, I realized I was doing a lot of saying "just this once" and "other people can't handle this, but I can". I realized those are words straight out of an addict's mouth - they think they have things under control, but their self-delusion is enormous. They are ruining their lives, but they can't let themselves realize it. And by "they", I mean "me".

Not having real restriction has frustrated me and has been hindering me, but there are other real truths, too. I finally experienced some restriction after last Thursday's fill. Not quite enough to be at that point where I have the tool I was looking for, but enough to make a difference. Enough to feel like I actually have a Band.

I also realized I was self-medicating with alcohol, but not in the way you may think. I never drink to get drunk. However, I think I was subconsciously drinking more, and choosing sugary, calorie-laded drinks like margaritas, to self-medicate with food. I'm not sure if it's the sugar I was craving, or the rebellion, or the calories. I just know that my subconscious is very tricky. There are lots of Issues that come up as I shed my cozy-yet-suffocating Fat. It is very very painful to deal with these issues. It seems counter-intuitive, but even though dealing with the Fat and frustrations that go with it are very painful, they are familiar pains and my subconscious chooses those over dealing with the unknown pain of processing the deeper issues.

I'm not looking for sympathy, and if you gained your Fat without emotional baggage and lost it without having to mourn what you lost in the process (for good, or for bad), then I congratulate you. Please consider yourself blessed. Most of us who are very Fat and have been for a while have become this way for a very complex and painful set of reasons, far beyond "eating too much, and exercising too little".

The currents run deeper and swifter than Genes and Choices.

I'm ready to run the rapids. I want to keep being aware (no matter how painful it is) when I have gotten out of the boat.

I will start with compliance.

I Thought It Would Be Different By Now

I'm in quite a funk today. I'm not sure if it's because my period is a week early, if it's because my children screamed for an entire hour AFTER BEING PUT TO BED (Happy Father's Day, Honey!), or if it's because I've had a headache all day and may be Coming Down With Something.

I think it may have to do with me and my Band. I didn't realize when I was banded that it would be a month and a half to TWO MONTHS before I'd really start losing weight. I've lost some, yes - but each of those precious lost pounds came from a liquid diet and willpower. I know this isn't effective over time, as my last 18 years of dieting history attest. If willpower and liquids were all I needed, I'd be 175 and Lap-Band-free (or I'd be 190 and Lap-Band-free, fretting over losing those last pesky 15 post-partum pounds, but I digress). I also feel like I'm slipping backwards. I'm afraid to get on the scale again. I can feel the initial weight-loss euphoria ebbing and the whatever-
it-is-that-induces-me-to-gain-my-weight-back-plus-more starting up.

It comes down to this: I don't feel any different now than I did BEFORE my band. I'm frustrated and depressed. I am jealous of my other WLS friends, who climbed on the operating table and could never look back. I've taken the big step of surgery, taken the big step of one fill, and...nothing. Just nothing. Nothing more than what I got the last billion times I've tried to lose weight. Nothing but hopes packed into the giant bag of regrets and past failures. I'm tired of trodding this same path: up and down, up and down, with no souvenirs of my travels but stretch marks on my body and bruises on my psyche. I didn't take this step to end up in the same place, just poorer and more demoralized.

I have my second fill on Tuesday. It'd better make me feel like I've really had this surgery. Right now I'm starting to wonder if they just made a few random incisions, sewed them up, threw me around the operating room to stimulate bruising, and then injected saline right into my skin a month later. For all I know, I am Bandless.

I can't stand to be the butt of another cruel joke.

Big Fat Food Farewell...and Fills

To my "Anonymous"es: you probably are not going to like this post. You may want to grab your lean protein and Crystal Light NOW and run away, shielding your eyes. Or, you can stay, read it, and leave me sanctimonious advice. It's entirely up to you!

Yes, I am freaking about my first fill.
My fill happens in 2 days.

First, a word about "fills" and banding....
One of the ways banding is different than RNY or DS is that it is adjustable. The initial surgery is where they actually place the Lap-Band around your stomach. After that, you are on a 2-week liquids-only and then a 2-week mushies-only diet to allow your body to heal. Some people naturally lose weight during this time, because of the liquids and mushies. Some do not. (I did - yay me!)

The next 2-week period after this month of restricted intake is often referred to as "Bandster Hell". Why? Because in this phase, many people can eat anything. The band is not actually working at this point. When the band is installed (put in? secured?), it is left entirely unfilled. Clinics have started doing this to allow for the best possible healing. Some people have natural restriction because of the band itself, even with no fill. Some do not.

I do not.

I do not feel overfull when I eat. I do not PB (barf) when I eat too much. I can eat pretty much whatever I want to. I do find I am full for longer, and that I don't want to eat quite as much, but that is frankly probably just the result of being on a liquid/mushy diet for a month. During this Bandster Hell period, some people regain a portion of whatever weight they may have lost during the liquids/muchies phase. Some do not. (I did, but I'm afraid to fully face how much.)

So...
I am entirely unrestricted. I have slowly and not-so-slowly gone back to most of my "old" eating habits. Some of it has been unconscious, and some of it has come from the "oh-my-gosh-I'm-never-going-
to-be-able-to-eat-this-again-after-I've-had-a-fill" phenomenon. I've been having a big fat food farewell.

I'm afraid again to get on the scale.

I'm almost as nervous about my fill as I was about the surgery itself. I was so psyched up before the surgery: knowing the recovery would be a bit long and knowing MY LIFE WAS ABOUT TO CHANGE ENTIRELY.

And then, it didn't. Not entirely.

So slowly, I've slipped back into my old, pre-surgery life. Except, I'm actually post-surgery now. My brain is messed up and I'm having a hard time making sense of it all.

But now I am having those same pre-surgery feelings about my fill: OH MY GOSH MY LIFE IS ABOUT TO CHANGE ENTIRELY. I was ready before, and now I'm not quite-so-ready. I guess because I had the reprieve. Because I have those sweet, sweet bad habits again. In one way, I'm convinced now more than ever that the Band is the right thing for me and I need it, Oh boy I need it. And yet, facing the reality of the restriction and PBing and learning and mourning the foods seems so big again. Didn't I do this already?

I'm looking forward to the restriction, but I'm also facing down walls of shame again. I thought I was past all this, past the back-and-forth, past the "will I, or won't I?". I thought I'd only have to wrestle with it before surgery and then the choices would be made, my path would be set.

The truth is, I could cancel my fill appointment, live in denial, and waste this entire endeavor. I won't, but it is actually possible, and that scares me.

If I'd had RNY or a DS, I wouldn't have this choice: my path would be marked out; I'd be forever, irrevocably changed. I know that with the DS and RNY, one has to make many many conscious choices, especially the farther one gets out from surgery - please know I'm not slighting the hard choices you have to make, especially all the hard choices about the foods you have to constantly avoid. It's just that sometimes I wish I didn't have so many choices. I wish it wasn't all up to me.

I know - it's the denial and inaction that got me to this point in the first place. And I know I'm going to need the Band (and fills!) to get me out. It's just long, slow, plodding, confusing work.

I've got to let this Little Squeeze get tighter and see it as the embracing hug I visualized - as the supportive, loving hug I need to do what's best for me, and in the right way.

Facing the Scale: Issues and Numbers

Well, I did it. I got on the scale this morning. Right after my shower (and after I dried my hair to get rid of all the water weight, of course!) I ran in to the other bathroom and jumped on it before I had a chance to change my mind.

288.5. Ugh.

My lowest was 284, so yes, I "undid" some good work by eating dangerously for a week. 4.5 pounds of "undoing", actually.

The scale at my PCP was 288.0, which is unusual - I should weigh more there than at home, buck-naked. But that's really beside the point, here.

Anyway, the numbers aren't the issue as much as the Issues around the numbers are. After confronting the Number this morning, the Issues started up again in my head:

• It's not fair that I gain weight so quickly!
• Other people don't have this problem!
• I was even watching my portions and "trying" to be good - what would happen if I really let myself go? (I did gain 20 pounds in one week once - in 8th grade!)
• This is never going to work for me.
• I'm so scared.
• Look at yourself - blaming every one else for your problems!
• Why did you go and have surgery if you're still going to be such a failure?
  
• Maybe I should have said "no" to the 4th margarita.
• Holy cow, this is going to be a long, slow road.

I have a host of Issues to work out. But I've got to do them slowly, and with love. Pummeling and squelching the Issues with shame will not have a permanent effect - believe me, I know this first-hand. Real change is from the inside out and only works long-term when it has the right reasons behind it. It may take longer to do it this way, but it's the only way to truly heal.

Holy cow, this is going to be a long, slow road.

Unrestricted and Unwell (Body AND Head)

I'm still not so good at speaking the truth here when I feel like I've been "bad" diet-wise. Sigh. No wonder I got to the place I did weight-wise. I have a mountain of issues that I avoid dealing with. Or maybe it's not that I'm avoiding dealing with them, but more like I've gotten so good at convincing myself that I AM dealing with them, or have convinced myself that they AREN'T really issues after all. Dance, jig, slight-of-hand, "Hey- look over there!" - distractions from the issues I can't bear to feel fully.

So, I am now fully healed from the Lap-Band surgery, but am 2 weeks away from my first fill. From a weekend of, uh, experimenting, let's just say I know for sure that I am not experiencing any restriction at all. I can eat anything I want, as much as I want, without PBing.

Last night, I ate an entire burrito and side of beans. Today, my intake has consisted of 7/8ths of a cool-whip-pudding-oreo-pie. Oh, and a latte. Definitely NOT nutritious.

The thing is, I feel awful. Not that fibromyalgia-hurt-all-over-awful which finally has subsided. (Hooray). But, my stomach feels awful. It's well below my band, so that's not the part that's hurting.

I think what I'm experiencing is what normal people feel when they overeat, and/or eat crap. You know, indigestion, and a feeling of "Whoa - let's not do THAT again!" If I didn't have so many issues, I think I'd learn how to listen to this feeling; to learn from it. But the issues get in the way and say, "Hey - eat all you want, while you still can!", or "EEEEeek - deprivation - NO NO NO", or "Guilt alert! Guilt alert!" I think in the past when I have felt this overeating pain, I've drowned it in MORE FOOD. Crazy, I know, but that's part of how one gets to be 312 pounds.

I want to learn from my mistakes without being consumed by them or being consumed by the guilt and then eating to avoid feeling the guilt.

I want to start responding to my body's innate signals, to hear what it's telling me.

So about the last couple days: Whoa, let's not do THAT again. But if/when I do, I hope I realize it, be honest about it here, and can pick myself back up.

This is Going to Be Harder Than I Thought

You're thinking, "Duh". Yeah, I'm really slow sometimes.

I thought that I'd figure out the Band, follow the rules and then voila - thin and beautiful!

The good new is that I'm down another pound - a real triumph because when I was in this much pain in the past, I'd be tempted to eat to avoid all the feelings that come up. You know, it's easier to say "Oooh - cookies!" Instead of "Why Me?" and "This Sucks". Cookies don't talk back. They don't require introspection, just indigestion. And I'm a pro at indigestion.

I'm finding that it is hard for me to distinguish the physical signals of my Band, especially when I'm in lots of pain. When the fibromyalgia gets really bad, one of my symptoms is often costochondritis - or the inflammation of the cartilage where the ribs join the breast bone. I've been to the ER twice with it (PCP doing some prudent CYA to rule out heart attack) and have had a full cardiac work-up (which I passed with flying colors despite my weight, so nyyahhh!) and finally know it's not life-threatening, just very very painful.

What does THAT have to do with anything? Well, my Band is in roughly the same place behind my breast bone. So I'm having a hard time distinguishing physical signals: is that a painkiller stuck in my band, or the FM soreness? Bandsters describe having something stuck as "having a knife in the middle of your chest". Um, yeah. I feel like that a lot.

Sigh. This is going to be harder than I thought. Yeah, yeah, yeah.."duh".

Pissy Pity Party

I am realizing that I'm avoiding posting when I'm not feeling positive. That's not what I want this blog to be: just an "all happy look at the world of banding". I love blogs and writing and people who are REAL - who are AUTHENTIC. I see through the "happy happy" blogs and quickly get bored. NOBODY's life is great all the time, and I think we all do each other a disservice in pretending otherwise.

So, I'm feeling pretty pissy. I'm so so so tired of the liquid-mushy diet. I'm frustrated by how slowly the weight will come off, even when I'm working on it. Other silly items in my life have converged and I'm just feeling generally moany and cranky and "oh, poor me".

My husband and I have buckled down and are really living by our budget without taking money out of savings for the first time in 4 years, and I'm finding not having money is making me really really really cranky. We've made the decision together for me to stay home with the kids for now and my husband has a good job - it's just sobering how much it costs to live in this area. Our house payment is $2200 a month, for a 2100 sq.ft. home. It's fabulous, and we love it, and we're so glad we did it (there's NO WAY we could afford to buy the same house now, at over $500K. Sadly, in this area a "starter home" is now considered anything under $460K!! - absolute insanity). We love where we live and have been blessed to have enough in savings to cover while I've been home, but it's time to live within our means. Sometimes adult responsibility really sucks.

And my espresso machine broke. See above for why I can't buy a replacement. Ditto for why I can't buy myself a latte every day. I know, I know "whaaah whaaaah whaaah - poor me and my little suburban life". It's just that my morning latte is such a constant, such a comfort to me. And now that my eating, my finances, and everything is all upside down, it just seems like the final straw.

I know that a lot of this has to do with emotional issues that are surfacing because I haven't been able to turn to my friend food for comfort. I don't know exactly what the issues are yet, but I think my subconscious is pretty pissed off at being so exposed. That food used to keep her feeling pretty covered.

And why, if I can't eat ANYTHING, is the scale NOT. MOVING?

And yesterday, I couldn't take it any longer and ate 2 pieces of french bread! I chewed and chewed and chewed, but I didn' t know WHAT would happen. I didn't PB (polite Bandster talk for throwing up what can't get past the band), I didn't have a lot of pain..... and this actually ticked me off. White bread is supposed to be a big Band no-no. I know things don't really work until my first fill (June 13), but now I'm worrying that this won't work afterall and I'm just stuck fat the rest of my life and why did I go through this stupid surgery anyway....

I think I better go look at the calendar. I have a hunch that it could be close to "that time".

Guess what? I’m Fat.

This is not the post I thought I would be writing today. I thought I’d be writing about how I GAINED 2 POUNDS yesterday, even though I only ATE (DRANK) 1000 CALORIES AND OH MY GOSH THIS IS NOT FAIR. And then moving on to the inevitable I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN THE HISTORY OF LAP-BAND SURGERY WHO THIS WILL NOT WORK FOR. And then something happened.

I realized that wasn’t the way I was feeling after all.

You know what? I’m actually really really happy today. And strangely enough, I think it took the 2 pound gain for me to realize it.

Let me back up. On Friday, I realized that I had come to terms with the fact that I actually had Lap-Band surgery. It was more than just that – it was that by having the surgery I realized I had to OWN the fact that I was Morbidly Obese. I have spent a lot of this overweight time in a lovely state of denial: thinking that I’m not really fat – that it’s just a bad angle or an unforgiving photograph, or a super hot dryer that shrunk all my clothes. I had to let go of the idea that this last 40 50 pounds is temporary, y’know – tomorrow I’ll wake up and it will just be magically GONE! ‘Cause it isn’t really there! It’s just imaginary! I can quit any time I want!

Somehow, it wasn’t until AFTER I had Lap-Band surgery that it finally hit me. I am Morbidly Obese. No, I mean REALLY MORBIDLY OBESE. You are probably thinking “duh!”. I guess I’m just slow. I didn’t realize how much a part of me was holding on to this crazy idea that this was all some terrible misunderstanding – that I’m not really this fat. See! Look! I’m thin – your camera sucks! Your airplane seat is too small! All my clothes shrunk astronomically! I'm just really really big boned! Wow, size 28 is the new 16, huh?!

I think I finally had to wrestle with the fact that yes, I was so fat that I went in and had real surgery. I think according to my previous line of thinking I had convinced my subconscious self that I was just walking through a hospital when – whoops! - a Lap-Band fell in! Golly –they usually use those on Fat people. Huh – maybe it will work for skinny old me! (Yes, my subconscious can really be gullible sometimes).

Somehow, gaining the 2 pounds this morning and looking at cold, hard numbers on the scale helped me fully realize what I needed to know : I’m fat.

Let me say that again. I’m Fat. I’m so obese that I needed surgery to help me fix it.

I expected to feel an overwhelming tidal wave of shame in finally facing up to this (obvious to everyone else) fact. I thought it would make me nauseated at my own existence, and that I would scamper behind the next (extra large) rock I could find.

Instead, I feel an incredible amount of freedom. Hey, guess what? I’m fat! It feels to good to admit it and to be here in this place and to not feel the amazing shame and guilt.

I actually feel like for the first time I went and did something that was totally, entirely, selfishly, deliciously JUST FOR ME.

Guess what? I’m Fat. And I’m so excited.

Cranky

I'm cranky today. I'm stiff, still gassy, and still haven't pooped.
I feel like a little baby: a big ol' burp and a poop would solve a lot of problems. :)

I think part of my problem is that secretly, I believed that I'd be doing super-fine and even "normal" today. I pretended that it would be OK to feel bad for longer, but my secret brain and I decided today I would feel fine. Since my silly secret goal was not achieved, I am cranky.

Oh well, cranky is probably a good sign - it means the rest of my pain is diminished enough for me to focus on the petty things. *sigh*

I am signed up to register kids for the walk-a-thon at Henry's school this afternoon (I said "yes" over a month ago and wasn't planning well, time-wise). If I don't go, I'll be announcing to the whole world that I had lap-band surgery. (I have been really open about it, it's just I'm not sure I'm ready to tell all the Alpha-moms yet...maybe because it's one more admission of how I'm not a perfect mom?...because even though it's obvious I'm fat, there's something about surgery that's admitting failure?....that I'm admitting I'm not the perfect mom?....I've been through this in my head, but parts of it still stick out, like rough edges...). If I do go, I'll be exhausted.

Well, it's almost 10am - now I get to go complain to my therapist. :)

And So It Begins...

I'm actually feeling better today. I'm still stiff, and very bloated from the gas, but all-in-all, definitely near the "light at the end of the tunnel" part.

For 2 weeks, I'm on a liquid diet, then 2 more on mushy food. After that, I have 2 weeks of trying out 'regular food' before going in for my first fill. Some people call these 6 weeks "Bandster Hell" because you are limited in what you can eat, but you don't feel the fullness yet that a filled band will provide. Many Bandsters don't lose any weight in these 6 weeks.

What I wasn't expecting so soon are the mind games. I thought I would coast through these first 6 weeks, even losing some weight. I thought "I can do anything for 6 weeks". And, I can. (Haven't we all been successful at some hare-brained 6 week diet before?) I am just realizing how deeply ingrained the deprivation mind-game is. When I am told I can't have something, I want it. I think this comes from a lifetime of being put on diets (my parents put me on a grapefruit, dry toast, and hard-boiled egg diet when I was in 2nd grade - and I wasn't even fat...I'll scan some pictures and do some backstory soon....they've been obsessed with my weight since birth).

I also seem to get overwhelmed by trying to take in everything at once, instead of letting it unfold naturally, bit by bit. I don't have to figure out TODAY how I'm going to do this for the rest of my life. I just have to take TODAY one hour at a time.

I stepped back from the panic for a minute and realized that I don't actually want to eat anything that's not on my liquids list. If I'm honest with myself, I don't really feel like eating at all.

Part of this long journey will be finding that small voice inside me that knows what I really want and need - the one that's been shut out so long through diets, guilt, and shame.