Fight for yourself.

I went back to work yesterday, thankfully. I am four weeks out from surgery, and I feel good. Some days I feel like I got hit by a train, though. I get tired pretty easily which, I guess is what happens when you only take in about 500 calories a day.

The weight loss has been rapid since surgery. My clothes are baggy and my face looks noticeably different. The scale has been an encouraging indicator, too. Until this week.

Oh, the scale...

My doctor warned me about the stalls that come with this process, and I am in the middle of one. I hit 49 pounds lost and I was PUMPED to get to 50 pounds down and counting! I was losing about a pound a day and chugging right along. Until this week.

I am stalled. I have been stalled for about 5 days now. And here's what happens in my brain when progress (any kind of progress) stalls.

I guess it didn't work. This is as good as it will get. I won't do any better than this. Oh well, I gave it a good try. This might have worked for other people, but not me. I quit.

And phase two of that defeat is to go back to old habits, old relationships, old ways of life. Somewhere deep down, we all fight those demons that tell us we don't deserve better. We don't deserve happiness like we've never known. We don't deserve love like we've never known. We don't deserve life more abundantly than before. Why do we allow those demons to win?

The scale puts my brain in that scary spot.

In the past...a defeating number on the scale would send me into the arms of Ben and Jerry's. Or Sara Lee. Or Burger King, or whatever. But not this time. I am fighting for myself. I refuse to go backwards, to sabotage myself, to settle. I didn't come this far in my life to throw it away over a speed bump.

Stalls are a part of life. But we have to work through them, because we deserve everything that waits for us on the other side. Everything. Stay the course. Let people into it with you. Fight for yourself.

face to face

The left picture is from April, the right picture is from
last Sunday. What a difference in four months!

I hung out with a friend last Saturday and when he looked at me he said "Oh my God, your face!" And I said, "I know, I got too crispy in the sun yesterday." And he said... "No, your face looks totally different since I saw you last weekend."

Really?

You know when you are in something so long, you don't see change? Or when you become so familiar with something, you can't see progress? Yup, that's me. That first picture is from April (not pictured: Governor Roy Cooper) and that second picture is from Sunday at Raleigh Supercon (not pictured: Hannah Wait, the Fonz, the Incredible Hulk, the Karate Kid, Joey Fatone, and Opie from SAMCRO).

I am learning the value of trusting your friends. Sometimes we lose perspective because we lose the ability to reach out, be vulnerable, and trust what comes next from the mouths of those that love us most.

Everyone keeps saying this blog is brave. I don't feel very brave, but I am accepting that. I just feel like I am supposed to keep writing about this, because it's not about losing weight. It's about gaining yourself back. And that message is universal, right?

I am down 45 pounds since April, and that's 27 pounds since surgery on July 11th. I have a long way to go, but I am so motivated, and I went into this because I knew I couldn't lose the weight and keep it off on my own. I had to check my pride at the doctor's office and admit I needed help. I am thankful to friends that have rallied around me and came without being called.

Great things happen on the other side of pride. I hope I get to rally around every one of you sooner than later.

"You are f**king worthy!"

A sign from my friend's classroom. Kids need to hear this.
So do we.

So I am two weeks out of surgery. My days are pretty basic right now. I have a few regimens I have to keep. I take 10 vitamins a day at very specific times. I have to find a way to get at least 80 grams of protein in and 100 ounces of water. No sugar, and no carbs. That is more challenging than it seems since I can't chug water or eat anything quickly. I eat with a baby spoon and it takes me about 30 minutes to try and eat an egg. But good news! I can eat an egg!

One of my favorite basic things right now is walking with friends. I have had great walks with great friends almost every day. Our bodies want to move, it's part of recovery. Most of these walks turn to deep conversation quickly, which I LOVE. Because let's be real...that's what matters most.

My friend and I were talking about life and love and how we settle for second best so much in life. We talked about this idea that people use love as currency. I will only give you as much love as you will give me, I will spend love like money, and I will withhold love like money. Why do we do that?

I think that all of us, in different seasons, have settled because we don't think we deserve more. That someone, somehow along the way, has put something in our heads to make us believe we don't deserve everything. I know I have. For years and years and years.  So instead of working through pain, I would stuff it down with food. Instead of reaching out to others, I would reach into a drive-thru window.

It's amazing what happens when the thing I used to always turn to for comfort, is no longer an option. I used to live to eat. Truly. Now, I am struggling to eat to live. Protein shakes are keeping me alive. And I am finding so much more comfort from people in my life. More than I ever dreamed I would. And that would not have happened if I didn't let go of the comfort I was seeking in food.

Let's not waste anymore time. Let's stop keeping a record of wrongs and start trusting each other. Let's spend love without caring about how much we get back. At the end of my walk on Tuesday, and our conversation around this, my friend declared "You are f**king worthy!" She is so right. We all are.

We all are.

When the boat splits from the dock.

When I was in high school, I worked at a young life camp in New York called Lake Champion. I was there volunteering for 5 weeks, and it was the best summer of my life for all the reasons. One of those transformational experiences that every 17 year old needs and longs for.

I worked in the kitchen, and on a break one day I went on a little boat ride across the lake with one of my staff friends. We got back to the dock so I could go back to work. Right at that time, all of the kids were getting out of club (which is like a big assembly) and about 500 of them were walking along the waterfront. 

I got up to hop out of the boat. I put one foot on the dock, and kept one foot in the boat. And I hesitated. I hesitated just long enough to look down and watch in slow motion terror as the boat split from the dock. And my legs split from each other. And the windmill arms started, and I took a swim.

I took a swim wearing jeans and kitchen gear (complete with apron). Have you ever tried to gracefully emerge from lake water in jeans and an apron? Don't.

The best part as I shimmied myself up onto the dock was the silence from 500 high schoolers on the waterfront. But then, the impending applause and general laughter at the balancing act they just got to see. To this day, watching windmill arms when someone's falling is one of my favorite things. Because when have windmill arms ever saved you from falling?!

The morale of the story? Don't hesitate. When you need to jump, jump. Don't waffle between where you were and where you're going. I am finding it so scary to navigate this new life that is revealing itself to me, because I don't trust it yet. I still think I will be the one medical anomaly for whom duodenal switch surgery doesn't work for. Even though I have lost 39 pounds since I started the program (and that's down 20 pounds since July 11th surgery date), I still can't picture what's to come as the scale continues to go down. And I still can't believe it's going to work, because I have lost weight before and then watched it come back.

The boat left the dock for me on July 11th. The good news is that I was safely drugged up on the dock when the boat left. I didn't have a choice to stay in it. Now I get to explore this new land that the dock is connected to.

Shed the pounds, shed the tears.

This is the bench on White Street in
downtown Wake Forest that has hosted
many life changing conversations for me.
Today was no different. And Georgie was
there to supervise, as usual!

I ventured out of the house this morning to sit with a friend in downtown Wake Forest. It was a game changer, for a lot of reasons.

I think having weight loss surgery has opened me up to a lot more self-reflection than I was anticipating. And as I am watching the scale go down, I am feeling things welling up within me.

Shed the pounds, shed the tears.

My friend this morning challenged me to put myself out there more. And I will. What I might need to explain is that, I have used my weight as a physical barrier from the world. So as that barrier is bound to come down completely in the next few months, I anticipate being exposed to the world more than ever. I also anticipate being open to the world more than ever.

And that's the goal.

We all have our vices, and some of us have our addictions. My addiction isn't drugs or alcohol, but food. And I have the unlucky benefit of wearing my addiction for the world to see. Sometimes I wish I had a more secret issue that is hidden away from the world. But the weight issue, for me, has been a banner I have carried, and will carry in order to help other people if I can.

So for those of us hiding ourselves from the world...let's stop. Because I know for sure that the world needs the parts of ourselves we are most afraid to show. The vulnerable, scared side. It took a conversation on a bench on White Street this morning for me to realize that. And, it takes the love of a friend to recognize and encourage that in us.

"If you weren't afraid of being yourself to people, how would that change the world?"

XO

It's not brain surgery.

You may have won the battle, Oikos, but you
will not win the war.

I must admit, it is jarring to go from a rather hectic life of working at the YMCA (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) and being a town commissioner (which is pretty much a 24-7 job) to a life of trying to drink 8 ounces of water and keep down yogurt.

My nausea subsided yesterday, thank God! My goal yesterday was stay hydrated, and try to get in 80-100 grams of protein. It took me two hours to eat a yogurt. And I didn't come close to getting in my protein goal. But I am taking it slow and trying not to overdue it. The littlest things wear me out. I did laundry and took a shower and I felt like I had run a marathon.

But the most interesting thing I have found it how my brain is still thinking about food. It doesn't help that most commercials are about food. And not just food...how happy people are when they can eat bottomless fries and giant burgers with onion straws and mountains of cheese cake and unlimited salad and breadsticks (yes, I am talking to you, Red Robin and Olive Garden). It is surprising that those images don't nauseate me. They actually make me hungry. And a little bit sad.

But that's because my doctor operated on my gut, not my brain. My brain still wants to live like an overeater. In fact, my brain still thinks that I can. And that's the trickiest thing about the next few weeks...to focus on eating to live, not living to eat.

My kind neighbor wanted to help me and bring food over, but she stopped herself and we both laughed at how food is love. When people are sick, we bring them food. When there is a wedding, we eat cake. When there is a funeral, we bring casseroles.

One of my co-workers stopped himself when he said he wanted to set up a meal chain for me while I was out. Again, we both recognized that food is how we show love. It is so difficult to retrain our brains to think about NOT turning to food in crisis, emotions, celebrations, and social outings.

I'll let you know when I figure that one out. For today, I am focusing on conquering that greek yogurt.  And taking life one small baby spoon bite at a time. (no seriously...I had to buy baby spoons at Target...)

Did I make a mistake?

(subtitle: No, I didn't make a mistake...but it doesn't stop the doubt!)

Smiling like a happy idiot!

Duodenal switch surgery was on Wednesday at 10 am. I clawed my way out of the hospital by Thursday night. I could tell the nurses and doctor wanted me to stay another night but I wasn't having it. Here's a picture of me right before going into surgery. Here are some of the pictures you don't get to see because, as we know, no one posts their darkest moments on social media!

You get no pictures of the nausea, the various tubes and needles and lines all over me, the countless check-ins and blood draws and extra hospital goodies. You, sadly, don't get a video of the lady down the hall from me screaming bloody murder while they try to put a tube in her arm. And I wish I had a picture of the sad parade of newly operated patients walking around the halls, in our socks and open gowns, pushing our IV bags, to prevent blood clots. We looked like a bunch of hunch-backed zombies afraid of eye contact.

I had great care. I have amazing friends that stayed with me overnight. I had a terrible tv, though, and I need to talk to Rex about that one. But I was ready to go home and get past surgery. For the first 48 hours I really wondered if I had made a mistake. Why did I put myself through this? If I was stronger, I should be able to lose weight and keep it off on my own. Why did I go through such a drastic surgery?

See, I don't know what being a thin person feels like. I don't know what the other side of this will be. All I know is the pain right now and the soreness and the nausea and the inability to eat or drink much of anything. But I have to trust what's next. It took me a lifetime to get to this weight, it won't come off overnight. And my brain won't understand this overnight either. When we have settled so long for something or someone, it's hard to believe we deserve better.

I know I deserve better. And I know this past year has been a deliberate season of taking my health back. This is the beginning, and I am grateful for the time, for once, to focus on my health. And to write a yelp review about Rex Hospital's tiny tv's...