Those nasty numbers!

So, numbers and the scale are totally f'ing with my head...more than usual. 

I've been having horrible knee pain for the last few months, which I've been ignoring and just hoping will get better. Of course, it hasn't, so I knew I had to make an appointment to see someone in my primary's office. When I saw the doc the other day, he was really impressed with my weight loss, but said it would be great if I could lose more. 

WTH?!?! Yeah, buddy...I know, I'm working on it. Thanks. In his defense, he meant no harm and I had never met him before, so he had no idea that he had just rocked my world for the day. He was incredibly nice, but that just hit me like a ton of bricks. 

Yes, I know I have probably another full body worth of extra skin hanging off me, but COME ON! I can't still be this fat. I can't.

So, from here out, I think I might have to have the baby daddy hide the scale from me. I jump on it, I kid you not, every time I walk into my bathroom. That's not healthy, I know this...but I can't help it. I think I'm going to just grab the tape measure and use that to help me track from now on. I'm gaining muscle and I'm definitely still shrinking, so hopefully seeing those numbers go down will keep me from freaking out over the numbers on the scale. 

BMI Bullshit

Fat, how I hate thee. Let me count the ways!  

My weight has basically leveled off. My surgeon and my husband are both pretty convinced that this is where my body has decided it wants to be, but I'm not done yet. I can't accept it. I did not have gastric bypass surgery to still be fat. I flat out refuse to roll over and accept the fact that I am still in the OBESE category after losing 145 fucking pounds. 

I am 5' 5" tall and I was 330 pounds, give or take, at my highest. I weighed 292 pounds on the day of surgery in November 2011. Today, I weigh 184, with a BMI of 30.6. A BMI over 30 is considered obese. Oh, HELL no!

I'm not happy with the number on the scale, nor will I ever be. I realize this. My thinking is flawed, I'm slightly sick in the head, and I am totally delusional. Reality sucks a good portion of the time, so I do prefer to live in my own little bubble, but there are things that I know must be faced. This is most definitely one of them. I will NOT still be obese after bypass. 

I did some calculating and I would need to get down to 150 to even hit a BMI of 25, which is the start of the "overweight" category. Really?! I would die if I were to see a number that low register on my scale. A number that low seems unattainable and the thought of even attempting to get halfway there is daunting. How can I lose another 40 pounds? I've been stuck in the 180's for way too long now and I just don't know if I have it in me to lose that much more. I want it, trust me, but do I have the chutzpah to go for it? Do I have the strength and determination to actually make it happen?

As far as motivation goes, I'm either all in, or all OUT. There is no in-between for me. I'm either a manic mess of clean eating and hardcore exercise, following rules to a fault, or I'm Debbie Downer, confined to my bed because depression has crushed me into my mattress and I can only get up to stuff stupid carbs in my face and fall back into a coma of loathing and self-pity. I'm working with a new psychiatrist and I've seen the surgeon's food addiction/eating disorder counselor, and both have encouraged me to go back to treatment. That's all fine and dandy, but "ain't nobody got time for that!" Seriously, that would be a tremendous hassle added to a life that's already a hassle, so that's just not gonna happen right now.

So, do I get off my ass, lose another 40 pounds, and probably still hate myself and my body, or do I give up and face the fact that I'll always be fat, no matter what I do? Man, choices, choices!  

The Funky Stuff

Both mentally and physically, I've been feeling pretty rough lately. Actually, I'm lying. I'm a hot mess.  

Mentally, I've been cycling through periods of deep, dark, can't-get-out-of-bed depression and what I can only describe as hypomania. I'm definitely not full-on manic, thankfully. And honestly, hypomania feels pretty good. I just came out of a particularly rough depressive episode that brought serious physical symptoms along with it. I felt like I had been run over by a semi. But, about a week ago, I instantly felt better. Instantly. This has been a recurring theme and has definitely become my new normal pattern. 

When I'm down, everything goes to hell: my eating, my purging, my thought process, my self-esteem, my level of functioning, exercising, housework, etc. When I'm up, the world is my oyster; I am ON it. I'm back on my clean-eating/health/fitness mission, with a vengeance. I have phenomenal ideas for the future. My house is immaculate. I'm motivated, upbeat, personable, productive, more responsible, connected, present, and positive. I'm like a "normal", happy person. But, it's not going to last. And that's not just me being Negative Nancy, it's just how it is. So, for now I just enjoy the feeling of being normal while I can and take advantage of actually being able to accomplish things. I'm seeing a new psychiatrist next week, one who actually used to do pre-op evaluations for my bariatric surgeon's team, and I've also started seeing the surgeon's food addiction/eating disorder therapist. We'll see where this leads.

Physically, I've always had some odd/funky stuff going on, but nothing that I ever really thought much of. In fact, I thought most of it was pretty normal. I've always had "weird" vision. Not poor vision at all, but odd: clusters of floaters that look like ghost orbs in photographs or dust particles in a sunbeam, wavy vision that's like an aura without migraine pain, seeing colors. Dizziness, the occasional racing heart, a "black out" when I stand up too quickly. I was a fainter when I was younger and I've always been really clumsy and accident-prone. No biggie, right?

Lately, the balance and coordination issues have been really bad, to the point of doing the drunk stumble when I haven't been drinking. I'm constantly running into things and the acid trip vision and floaters are there all the time. I'm a little confused sometimes and my short term memory is basically nonexistent. The baby daddy is quite concerned and has been telling me I need a neurologist and an MRI of my brain for years. I've always taken it as a joke, hardy har har, but it might not be a bad idea.

My primary drew labs, referred me to neurology, and sent me for a stat appointment with an ophthalmologist last week. Vision is perfect, minus a few floaters, but not the kind I described to him. The labs are perfect. I saw my surgeon's M.D. dietitian on Tuesday, the one I initially told about the ED stuff last summer. She was really concerned about vitamin deficiency, particularly thiamine and Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome. But, the eight tubes of blood they took from me paints quite the rosy picture of health. She says my labs are probably the best of any of her patients, that I'm absorbing well, and that my B-12 and B-1 levels are actually high, meaning I can take my B-complex and sublingual B-12 every other day. So, she says we can rest assured that my symptoms aren't related to nutritional status. Hmm... 

Now I wait for neuro to call to schedule and hope that everything is ok in that aspect. I can't imagine anything truly being wrong with me. She did mention that she thought I should go back to treatment, but I think I convinced her that the new team should be a big help and that I'm really trying to get my shit together. I don't have time for that, even though it was a great program and I was doing pretty well while there. I'm really hoping that it's all just a medication issue that can be resolved with a little tweaking.

Cross your fingers for me, please!

The Fear of Failure

I honestly believe that a bit of fear can be a healthy motivator. But, at what point does that fear become a problem?  At what point does the fear invade all your thoughts, take over your rational thought process, and become the norm? I just might be at, or at least rapidly approaching, that point.

My clean eating lifestyle experiment is going really well. I might be more than a bit obsessive, but I feel great and I've dropped another five pounds. I've hit the gym hard and am lifting the "heavy weights", so I like to tell myself that I'd be down a few more pounds but that I'm building solid muscle. (In case you haven't noticed, I like to "tell myself" things quite a bit. I have this amazing/terrible ability to rationalize just about anything. Ask yourself, "WWVD? What would Vera do?" With my irrational ability to rationalize, you can essentially do whatever you want. It's both a blessing and a curse, but mainly a curse. Oops.)

Even with my new healthy habits becoming a lifestyle rather than a diet, I still let the fear of fat and failure drive me to freak out, follow "my rules" too well, binge, purge, hate myself, and do it all over again. I am terrified not only of being fat again, but also of still being fat. I'm scared that I've gone through all this, worked so hard, and that this is as thin as I'll get. I can't consider myself a true success if I'm still fat after gastric bypass. If I'm still fat, just over 180 pounds, how can I not be a failure? I hear everyone ooh and ahh over my "success", but I'm afraid that it's not permanent, that I'm destined to fail...again.

What...is...wrong...with...me? 

At least I've been honest about it, I guess. That should count for something, right? Baby Daddy knows my MO, but I don't think he really knows what to do with me. And honestly, what COULD he really do? So, I just try to do the best I can and not beat myself up because that never gets me anywhere but right back to the beginning of the cycle. 

What do you fear? Does it drive you in a good direction or toward the dark side? I'd love to hear how you deal with it, especially if you know how to beat it. Drop me a line in the comments or at bypassingbulimia@gmail.com and let me know if you have any secret super powers!

Less than...

"Less than" has been a recurring theme throughout my life: feeling less than worthy, feeling less than beautiful, feeling less than I should be or could be. 

Verajust about everything.

However, right now, less than has taken on its most positive meaning in my life.

I officially weigh LESS THAN my husband. Can I get a big ol' "HELL YEAH!" on that one, please???

I weighed in this morning at 185.9 pounds, the lowest number I've seen on the scale in a very, very long time. I've had an epiphany of sorts and I want to be happy. I want to be healthy and STRONG. I am driven and I am going to achieve. 

Yes, I have promised myself this so many times over the years. In fact, I've been making this promise to myself for over 20 years. However, something has changed and it has motivated me more than my desire to be thin, my love/hate/obsessive relationship with food, and my personal shame combined. Is this just a manic episode driving me? Maybe. But, I really don't think so.

My mom recently discovered a heart problem that I can almost guarantee is directly related to being overweight/obese, having high blood pressure, and possibly having had an "event"/minor heart attack. She's only 55 and is the rock of the family. She has GOT to make some serious health and lifestyle changes because I NEED HER. So, even though I'm over 1,500 miles away, I'm on a mission to do it with her and be a motivator and partner in crime. 

I've tried to get her to at least consider bariatric surgery in some form, especially a sleeve gastrectomy since there's no re-routing of the intestines or possibility of complications from vitamin deficiency/etc. Alas, it's a no-go. She's steadfastly against it, says she's "too old", and throws out every excuse in the book. Ok, so then do something, right? Like I've said before, she has struggled with her weight all her adult life and I've followed suit. But, now is the time for us to both get our shit together, stop the negative cycles, and make the commitment to our health. Damn, maybe I have a career in motivational speaking in my future?

"We-e-e-elll...la-de-freakin'-da!" 

I got one of these little guys for Christmas and I am in love. When I'm being "good" and active, he smiles at me and even winks. When I'm being lazy, I get a frowny face and he even sticks his tongue out at me. We've affectionately named him "Fitbitch" and I think my husband is even slightly jealous, as I've taken the Fitbit instruction's suggestion and keep him clipped in my bra all the time. I sent one to my mom so we can be friends on the website and have a little friendly competition. I hope she loves him as much as I do. I swear, he forces me to strive for as many steps as possible every.single.day. My Fitbit is Vera-tested and approved!  

Another mission I'm on is to make the Eat Clean Diet my way of life. I have been there and done that with every fad diet that has ever been on the market. This just makes sense to me. I try to be as organic and "crunchy granola" as I possibly can and this follows that whole premise and takes it a bit further. Can I go super hardcore and never screw up? No. I am prone to blowing it and I think I can accept that I will not be 100% "clean" all the time. Like Christina Aguilera, I am a "dirty girl", after all. But, I ordered some books and resources and I'm on a mission. Wish me luck! I'm hoping to inspire my mom to adopt the same even a few days a week. She also has a vegan friend who has worked to inspire plant-based change, so I'm hoping that our "it takes a village" approach will keep us both on track.

All in all, I feel pretty good right now. Again, is this a manic cycle? I really, really hope not. With this post as a kickoff, I'll try to update as much as possible and document progress and mental/emotional progress, too. Here we go!

New Year, new me?

I'm baaaaaaack. And just as neurotic, if not more so, than ever. Woohoo.  

December was a tough month for me. Cookies, candy, drinks, food, more cookies. I finally experienced true dumping syndrome, and while you'd think that would have deterred my cookie consumption, it did not. In fact, I think it made me crave all the crap even MORE, despite how horrendously awful I felt. Now I'm finding that there are quite a few things that make me feel pretty rough, yet I continue to eat them and binge on them. Why? Do I enjoy the symptoms on some subconscious level, maybe as a form of self-abuse? Nausea, vomiting, fullness, dizziness, hot flashes, sweating, confusion, fatigue, heart palpitations. Sounds like a blast, huh?  So, why do I do this to myself? Bypass masochism?

I've also come to realize how much I detest feeling full. I hate the feeling of being hungry, yet I think I hate the feeling of being full even more. Nothing will send me running for the bathroom in order to get rid of that feeling faster than being full. Even if it's a meal I feel particularly good about eating, like chicken and asparagus, if I feel full, I can't take it. And again, I know what I need to do: sloooooooow dowwwwwn, chew chew CHEW, and be mindful of the entire experience rather than shoving food in my face.  

That's me, be it ketchup, frosting, or hollandaise.

I don't really make resolutions because I don't ever keep them. Ever. I find that it only serves to frustrate and demotivate me to fail. So, in 2013 I'm just putting it out there that I would like to practice mindfulness, not that I resolve to do it. This way, when I fail, I (hopefully) won't be inclined to just say, "Fuck it all!" 

I would also like to lose another 30 pounds. I've decided that 160 pounds sounds like a great final goal weight and I'm bound and determined to get there. Again, I would like to do it the healthy way: stick to my plan, get my butt back into the gym, and be ACTIVE. Wish me luck on this one!