mom22
I remember a cold morning in 1975 when I hurried to get myself to the bus stop without Mom’s assistance. My mother had been in the hospital for almost 2 months. Life was completely knocked off kilter without her and it was not getting easier as time passed. The bus stop was in front of Angie Carrie’s house. As she approached, she was stuffing the last bites of some warm pancakes into her mouth. The steam was sending an aroma of syrup and butter my way. It stirred memories of breakfasts and laughter and coziness past. I was suddenly so aware of how hungry I was and how alone I felt. This was the day I began my struggle with food.
The first time I joined weight watchers, I was 12. Back then I wanted to lose weight so that Cody Laddie would quit calling me “earthquake” on the playground. Now that I am an adult it’s less about what other people think of my appearance and more about the pain associated with 30 years of failure. Here is the cycle: succeed in losing weight, fail at maintaining that loss, then try to pretend like nothing is heartbreaking about gaining it all back. Each time it gets a little bit harder. Each time I feel more frustrated, pessimistic, ashamed, and disappointed in myself. To add to the shame is the fact that it is now seriously affecting my health.
I consider my desire to feel full to be an addiction because I overindulge knowing it is harmful to me. I think it is more difficult to overcome than other addictions because when someone goes into rehab for drug or alcohol abuse, they are physically separated from their dealer or the liquor store while they get counseling. Unfortunately for me, I can’t be separated from mine or I will starve and die. In order for my treatment to be successful, it must be more drastic and more permanent than theirs since for the rest of my life I am exposed to food 3 times a day.
In the past I said I could never get bariatric surgery because I could never admit failure – to concede that this thing had gotten the better of me. But today I am so thankful there are surgical tools that can make the physiological part of this problem easier to handle. Hope is such a priceless commodity.
