ObesityHelp

I hear the WLS journey described in many ways, but most often I hear it referred to as a “journey.” My friend Pam entitled her blog “Journey to a Healthier Me” and others have talked about stumbling blocks on their journey. On the overall, I like the analogy but I wonder if many of us actually think of this process as a journey.

Let’s think for a moment about what a journey is. The idea is well reflected in some of the great literature of all time in the form of an epic. The structure of an epic is fairly simple—you have the “hero,” the protagonist, who sets out to do something. But of course the story does not end there (or else it’d be really, really boring). No…our protagonist faces challenges that take him/her off the path of their journey. To get back onto the path, they must learn how to overcome the challenges thrown his or her way. Often in dealing with these challenges, the protagonist gains some wisdom and learns some important life lessons.

Is that what we do? One might think the answer is yes. And that would be pretty accurate considering the fact that many of the obstacles we face we have to overcome in order to live…healthfully, un-healthfully, or otherwise. But in our thinking…in our heads…do we approach this thing as a journey…or do we approach this as a race?

I read every single post on the RNY board. And especially in the fears and concerns of new post-ops I see myself very clearly—new to the post-WLS lifestyle, not sure what to expect, anxious to see results, and wanting more than anything for it to work this time. When approaching my process in that respect I was thinking of my life as a race and not a journey. And I got frustrated when those challenges came my way. And I thought I’d failed a million times, gave up on myself a million times, said to myself “perhaps I am the one person in the world for whom this surgery will not work…”

Even now, when I can see the physical markers of my success (and, yes, my head is catching up…I don’t look at myself and see an obese person anymore. Chubby? Perhaps. Fat? No.) I still tend not to look at the overall picture. I see a clock ahead of me, ticking down, down, down so fast toward that 2 year mark—the point at which, in my brain, the carriage turns into a pumpkin and the effects of having had surgery go “poof!” As ridiculous as that sounds, that thought is pervasive and very real to me. Therefore, it has power over me.

What would life look like if I thought of this as a journey instead? Well, perhaps I would realize that ultimately I am going to be who I am—physically, mentally, emotionally—and that who I am is only partially tied to how much I weigh and what I eat. I might also start to move to a place in my life where an impromptu family gathering is not accompanied by complex calculations in my head of grams of carbs and fat and protein. Perhaps if this were a journey I’d look at exercise as something that makes my body feel good (because it does), gives me energy (does that too) and not necessarily as a means to an end of losing weight. Perhaps then I’d choose exercises based on what I like to do instead of what I think may burn the most calories.

Don’t get me wrong. In the beginning of this process you have to think strategically about things. It’s the only way to fulfill the requirements of your program. But I notice in myself that there are clear phases in the journey and that I’ve rebelled against all of them. There was the transition from being able to eat very little, to being able to eat more, to being able to eat substantially more. There was the transition from plus sized clothing to “regular” sizes. There was the transition from feeling the need to use my surgery as a caveat at meals and restaurants to being able to “pass” for normal. To be frank…these things freaked me the hell out! But these are steps in the journey. They are challenges. We must learn to adapt and learn from those challenges in order to move forward and continue on our path.

So this week I empower you to consider whether you think of this process as a journey or a race. If it is the latter, I empower you to consider what your thinking, your habits, your life would be like if you behaved as if this were a journey instead. Finally, I encourage you to arm yourself with knowledge about this process, so that when hunger comes back, when pouch capacity increases, when the intestines start to soak up more calories from your food, when weight starts to stabilize, you see these simply as new challenges in your journey and not signs of failure.

Have a great week.

One of my favorite passages in the bible is this, “for what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?” Matthew 16:26. It is both an admonishment and a caution. Like when we, as parents, say, “well if Billy jumped off a building, would you do it too?” It is a rhetorical question to be sure, but one meant to inspire thought and, quite frankly, lately I’ve been thinking about it.

In particular I think about gaining a new self vs. losing my old self. Now to be clear: there are some parts of my old self that needed to die so that my present self could live. The part of me that did not value myself enough to scrutinize my food intake. That part had to die. The part of me that didn’t find myself worth the labor of exercising. She most definitely had to die. But there are a million other parts of myself in between my old self and new that seem to have gotten lost in the churning sea of post-weight loss surgery enlightenment.

I noticed this most distinctly last week at the gym (where many a great contemplation has begun for me). It had been a long day for both me and my children. We awakened early, went to our respective day functions (them school, me work) and then rushed home to scarf down a meal before trekking to the gym where the children spent an hour trying not to fight with each other while I spent an hour fighting with the elliptical machine. And all I could think of was how I wished I were at home. How much I would have loved to be in my bed with my jammies on and a pair of slippers playing “I declare war” with the kids.

But weight loss is a battlefield. And I must be a soldier.

Such hard thinking on my part was necessary in the first part of my journey. Forming habits is hard work. It takes many, many days of repetitive behavior, strictness, and a swift hand for non-compliance. It had long been my opinion that any deviation from my diligently formed habits was a recipe for failure. But on the elliptical machine that day I began to think about why I started this journey.

It was for my girls. The mother they used to have wasn’t a particularly good one. She was depressed and moody. Sullen and withdrawn. She didn’t play with them, she didn’t take particularly good care of them. She taught them bad habits in caring for themselves. So that mother made the ultimate sacrifice—she gave herself up so that her children could be in better hands. And there we stood—at a cold, impersonal gym—not talking to one another, not imparting vital knowledge, not expressing our love for one another. I was on the elliptical, my oldest was listening to her MP3 player and my youngest was coloring. And I felt bad about that, but how could I slack off on my commitment to a better life?

For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?

What did it profit me to gain my health, my body, a healthy weight, but lose my children in the process? I’m not saying I should not go to the gym. And I’m not saying time for oneself is bad. What I am saying is that it has to fit together within the big picture. For me the big picture is that I am a mom. And that if my desire to be anything—fit, a writer, a lover, a fighter, a dancer, whatever—encroaches too far into my role as a mother, I need to look at that.

So what does this mean to you? Well…sometimes we let our process get in the way of the big picture. How many of you have avoided a family function because there is trigger food there? How many of us have been driven out of our homes by food demons? How many of us avoid people, places and things we associate with our former obesity? And how many of those “sacrifices” are painful to you? How many of you wish that it didn’t have to be that way? How many of you long for some sort of compromise?

For us, the problem was easily resolved. We now have set days when mom goes to the gym and we have planned “vegging days” (which are not really planned at all). I respect both kinds of days equally. I don’t sacrifice my gym days for vegging days or vice versa. It is hard sometimes because life gets in the way—I have to work late and skip the gym, or a parent teacher conference gets in the way of a vegging day—and I feel like I want to rob Peter to pay Paul. I don’t. And life continues.

So this week I empower you to examine the answers to the above questions? For those who avoid functions because of food triggers, what would your family/loved ones do if you simply talked to them and told them about your anxiety? And what would happen if you explained to your family that you need help coping with your food demons? And what would happen if you showed up in old places with a new body? Think about it. I think that these road blocks are really opportunities to learn that the world isn’t quite so scary as we have it made out to be. And perhaps we can just live in it.

Have a great week.