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!

♫ It's my surg-iversary ♫

Oh, so cheesy.  

Yesterday was my official one year surgi-versary. One year. It still feels like it was yesterday, but it feels like it was a million years ago at the same time. Such a cliche, but so true. Gastric bypass and the first year thereafter is a journey full of both physical and emotional changes that you'd never even expect, both good and bad.  

Mid-February 2011, I went to an information session with no plans, no preconceived notions, and an open mind. I left with plans for an initial appointment with the surgeon and a glimmer of hope that it might actually happen for me, that I might get to be "normal" again.  

In March, I weighed in at a whopping 327 pounds at that appointment and was mortified. At the end of May, I met with the medical team and the dietitian and started on an ultra-mega-low-cal pre-op diet (and a healthy dose of phentermine!) that would ultimately help me shed 35 pounds. Cleared for surgery, I thought November 29 would never come. I weighed 292 that day, exactly what I weighed the day I gave birth...five years prior. *shame*  

I've been through stalls, eating disorder treatment, and more run-ins with the scale than I even care to remember. I've obsessed, I've cried, and I've celebrated. I've been proud, I've been ashamed, and I've been unable to look in the mirror and not be critical.

Fast forward to the present. I'm down to 189.2, a number that I haven't seen in so long that I honestly never thought I'd see it again. I'm "ok". Well, ok-ish. I still obsess. I weigh myself every time I walk into the bathroom. I am fixated on food: how little can I eat, what I can and can't eat, what I shouldn't have eaten, etc. I obsess over loose skin, sagging and delated boobs, the batwings, and the hideous hanging stomach that is the bane of my existence. I dream of plastic surgery. How sick is that?

Looking ahead, I hope that this next year brings acceptance and a sense of peace. I hope to get to a healthy weight that I can sustain. I hope to see permanent changes in my relationship with food. I would like to shed my emotional reliance on food. I plan to continue therapy to really work on ALL my issues. I hope to have plans for plastic surgery. I also hope to find an exercise program that I really love and that I will stick with.  

Is that too much to hope for? I like to think it's not. I'm looking forward to the next year and I hope it treats me well. Hell, I hope I can treat myself well! That would be a first, so wish me luck on that one.

F.R.E.A.M. and the 5DPT

Holy acronyms, Batman! Like cash to the Wu Tang Clan, food rules everything around me. Sigh.  

Because food is all I ever think about, I decided that I needed to do the 5DPT, the 5-Day Pouch Test. I was able to relate to all these fears:  

• Does my pouch still work?
• Have I broken my pouch?
• Am I doomed to be a failure at this, too?
• Can I lose the weight I've regained?
• Is the honeymoon over?

I was relying on too many "slider" foods: yogurt, cottage cheese, protein shakes. I had let way, way too many bad habits sneak in: eating freaking BREAD with gobs of honey butter at work, gorging myself on dessert (which promptly makes me throw up violently and feel like pure hell, yet I can't control myself), eating way too often, grazing. I thought I should try to teach myself to be "ok" with the full feeling of eating solid protein, like meat, with the hope that it would keep me full and keep me from making bad food choices. I have had such a hard time with meat, partly anatomically but mostly mentally. I've always been "funny" about meat and was a vegetarian for a long time, but after surgery, I found that I couldn't eat meat without pain and puking. After going through treatment, I realized that it was probably, at least partially, another way to subconsciously restrict. Blah.

So, how did that work out for me? I'll let you guess, lol.  

The first day was rough...really rough.  But, I DID IT.  I made it through the entire day on nothing but shakes, water, coffee, and iced tea. The second day started out really well, but by about 8:00 at work that night, I was STARVING.  Despite consuming a ridiculous amount of protein powder, water, tea, coffee, etc., I felt like crap and just couldn't keep on keepin' on. I gave in and ate bread. It's there, it stares me in the face, and it was so easy to just grab to get *something* into my system. I did finish off the night by eating 5 oz. of seared scallops for some good solid protein, but I felt like a total failure because I couldn't even do TWO of the five days. How lame!

So, even though I kinda screwed up, I'm still trying. I want to feel that tightness and I need to know that I'm not eating too much. What I really need to know is whether or not I've completely ruined my pouch with all the puking. It makes me so nervous. I feel like I can hold too much food. I have some weird pain in weird place at weird times, like any time I'm straining and sometimes when I'm not. It's like a pulling or tearing. That makes me worry...a lot. I also think I feel an ulcer. I need to see my surgeon's office soon and I think I'm going to ask for both a scope and a barium study. Something just doesn't feel right.  

I will be SO upset with myself if I've screwed up my surgery by being stupid and resorting to "behaviors" to deal with things, but really, I can't help it. I try so hard, but sometimes, I just can't deal and that's the only way to make things "all better". I try to use the coping tactics I've learned, but even with the best intentions, I still seem to screw up more often than not. Hate it.   

Getting Back on Track

I've felt myself slipping a bit lately and reverting back to some unhealthy behaviors and it's happening way too often.  *shame*  

After going back to work at the end of August, we have been so busy that all my after-treatment care plans have pretty much been put on hold.  I haven't had time to myself at all, and when I do, I have to sleep.  Not quite sure why, but I am beyond just exhausted.  I am tired in my bones.  I can't wake up with out venti redeye.  My labs look great, I'm not anemic, and I always eat at least 70-80 grams of protein every day.  I'm crazy strict about my vitamin regimen.  Maybe I'm not eating enough calories?  I'm pretty sure that I am and I always feel like I'm eating too much (ED thinking, for sure!). Yes, my sleep is broken due to beeping pumps and my daughter's needs, but I shouldn't be this tired.

Because of all this fun stuff and the fact that we're without a car, I hadn't seen my therapist since the beginning of August.  Oops!  I also see a prescriber at my therapist's office for all my "crazy meds", which I desperately need, and am required to see the therapist in clinic at least once a month to be able to keep them.  So, back to therapy I went today.  The good news is that she can see that I'm in a much, much better place psychologically than I was a few months ago and my husband totally agrees.  Lamictal is a good thing.  Hooray for mood stabilizers!  I feel so much more even, my anxiety is lower than it has been in many years, and I just feel better overall.  

But, I know that I am in no way "cured" of my mood disorder, depression, anxiety, eating disorder, etc.  Treatment was a huge step in the right direction and an enormous help, and the right meds are definitely helpful.  But, I know there is so much I need to work on in therapy that it's almost a little overwhelming to think about.  The list is pretty lengthy.  

We're planning to focus heavily on the ED and body image right now and take the rest in bits and pieces as they come up.  I'm going to blog all of my therapeutic writing assignments and I'll also continue to try to journal some of the daily struggles when I have time.  I need to focus on getting back on track and staying on track, because I can definitely see where I'm making mistakes, enforcing "rules" again, and reverting to purging.  *shame*  In addition to the mental stuff, I'm feeling some physical effects, too.  I think I might have an ulcer because of some nagging stomach pain and I've had some pretty serious nighttime reflux that I think may have actually caused me to aspirate last week.  My throat hurts and I have a yucky cough that I can't really get rid of, without actually being "sick".  Must I blame it all on my bad behavior or can I get away with a changing-weather-and-fall-allergies excuse?  Hmm...