So, how was your year?

Has it already been a year?

Man, time flies when you decide to change literally every area of your life all at once. But, if you know me, you might know that I don't do anything half way. And when it comes to life, I make no exception!

A year ago, July 11, 2018, was my duodenal switch surgery. I looked into surgery not knowing if I would actually go through with it. I went to all the classes, all the weigh-ins, all the doctor visits, therapy evaluations, sleep studies, and support groups. I sat in extra-wide chairs with arms with extra-wide people just like myself, and visited extra-wide restrooms with extra-wide toilet seats. Rex Bariatric sure knows how to keep us extra-wide people extra comfortable!

I remember looking around the room in every class I attended. I remember thinking "will they have surgery? Will they go through with it?" The nutritionists would stand up from the front and tell us that after surgery, you can't smoke. You can't drink alcohol. You can't eat fried foods. You can't eat a portion bigger than your palm. You can't drink out of a straw. You can't eat too fast. You can't eat anything before you eat protein. You can't drink anything when you're eating. You can't eat breads and pastas and pizzas and sandwiches and really, anything like you used to. You just can't. And I would watch the room as people rolled their eyes, crossed their arms, elbowed the person next to them sitting in their extra-wide chair and all the while I wondered "Will they go through with it? Wait, will I go through with it?"

So a year later, I am still carefully watching all my "you can'ts." I am still visiting my nutritionist and team of doctors regularly. I think about all the people that went through the pre-surgery classes with me and wonder if they went through with it. Even though there are a lot of "you can'ts" that I am paying attention to, this past year has been shaped by the "you cans." And this list is my unicorn. It is the things that I thought had escaped me in life and I would never experience. I reasoned it away for myself and convinced myself that God has other plans for me. That He wanted me to be alone to rely on Him only, and that my weight was my burden to bear. Little did I know that He had something in mind for me that was greater than anything I had ever dreamed of.

Liz Simpers' Great Big Unicorn List of You Can's (ahem....)

1. You can...fit into an airplane seat and put the arm rest down.
2. You can...shop at the mall. Any store you want. Even Forever 21. (but you would never because you're forever 43)
3. You can...sit in any chair you want. Or booth. Or stadium. Or baseball game. Or roller coaster. (but you would never again because you're rearranged insides hate being jostled around by every roller coaster ever invented. And most cars too.)
4. You can...wear name brand clothes.
5. You can...turn to people for comfort and not food.
6. You can...drive past the McDonald's and not stop at the drive-thru.
7. You can...reach over your shoulder to grab your seatbelt and, with the same hand, buckle it. (I bet that's one you've never thought of!)
8. You can...run a half marathon.
9. You can...ride a bike up and down your street.
10. You can...feel comfortable in a bathing suit.
11. You can...be outside in the summer and not sweat like you're in a sauna.
12. You can...cross your legs and sit comfortably.
13. You can...have a healthy relationship with food.
14. You can...be gay AND a christian, and be proud of both.
15. You can...have the courage to tell your friends and family that you are gay, always have been, and be accepted.
16. You can...finally address your health issues, learn to love yourself, and be ready to accept love.
17. You can...fall in love.
18. You can...go on family vacations and adventures and run errands and be in partnership.
19. You can...do anything you've ever wanted without fear of not fitting in.
20. You can...be a part of a family.

Today I am at my goal weight and 130 pounds lighter than I was a year ago. Today I see a new "you can" almost every day. I had no idea what post-surgery life would bring, but I was admittedly terrified to take that leap. But isn't amazing how God honors our faith in taking leaps by providing someone to catch us?

So yeah, my year was pretty great. Thanks for asking! May we all replace those "I can'ts" with "I cans" and watch how God shows up in our faithfulness. Amen?

I made goal weight!

This time last year, in May of 2018, I was in the initial stages of talking with nutritionists and therapists and doctors about weight loss surgery.

This time last year, I was about 318 pounds. This time last year, my doctor set my target weight loss goal to 185 pounds. I have had that number on a sticky note on my computer for over 8 years. I have always known that was my target weight for my height. I am a tall girl, after all. I have stared at that number almost daily for 8 years. I have wanted to erase it almost daily for eight years because at 318 pounds, that's impossible. That looks defeating and impossible.

This time last year, I was working out 4 times a week, I would consider myself active, but I was very much defeated and struggling with losing weight and gaining the weight back through the years of my life.

For all of us, especially women, we will never be satisfied with our weight. Or our wrinkles. Or our legs. Or our arms. Or hearing our own voice. Or how much we manage to get done in a day. For me, my struggle with weight has always been that obvious physical embarrassment that I could just never get right.

I still find myself getting a little embarrassed when people compliment me and ask how I did it. I still find myself wondering if people thing surgery is the easy way out, or that it's cheating, or that it's not the old fashioned, hard work way to lose weight. But then I remember what the past year has been like for me, and how hard I have fought for myself. How many times I ate one bite of the wrong food and have gotten very sick. How I get painfully tired on random afternoons on random days and struggle to be a human. How running a half marathon kicked my ass WAY harder than I imagined!

Today is a huge day. The scale doesn't get to define me anymore, but it does get to help me track progress. I weighed myself obsessively in the few months right after surgery because the pounds were dropping quickly. Stalls and fluctuations are part of the process, so I slowly stopped weighing myself so often. But today, today I had to check. And there it was.

184.6.

Getting below 200 pounds was a dream. But this day, this day is a victory. The girl that was 318 pounds and afraid of physical touch because of her body and wearing XXXL t-shirts and size 30 pants is now wearing M t-shirts and size 12 pants. Food doesn't get to be the only way I celebrate anymore, or commiserate anymore, or cheer myself up anymore, or relax anymore. God has blessed me indeed, and showed me what it means to accept love and affection and purpose and the big beautiful world that I now feel like I get to be a part of and fit into.

What a difference a year makes!

I can sit in a restaurant booth anywhere I want. I can put on a ropes course harness without worry. I don't have to ask what the weight limit is on a bicycle. I can sit in an airplane seat with the arms down. I can reach across my body to put on my seatbelt. I can cross my legs when I sit down. I can shop at any store I want and wear any clothes I want. And the list goes on and on and on.

In two days, I will be 43 years old. This time last year, I felt like life had passed me by, and I was meant to be alone and to accept my lot in life. It's amazing what shame can do to a person. It allowed me to get comfortable and used to a life that was never meant to be lived.

I will keep running. And I will keep fighting. And I will always be grateful and filled with wonder and excitement for what this new life has brought me. Finally addressing my biggest demon, my weight, allowed me to come out from behind my shame, accept love, and give love away. That 318 pound, big personality, lonely girl, is now in love and experiencing the life that I thought I could never have.

And for that, I will keep fighting.

What's your PR?

A "PR" in the wellness world means "Personal Record."

Last Sunday was my half marathon. Since I have never run a half marathon, I certainly set a PR. But as my friend Kirke most eloquently put it the morning of the race, this PR was "Personal Reason."

What was my PR?

I had intended to run this race alone. I have been training since October with that in mind. 95% of my training runs for the past 5 months have been alone. I was used to that, I found success in that, I became accustomed to that.

About a week before the race, my partner Julie said "I think we should run the half together." I immediately did the whole "thanks but no thanks" thing because, to be honest, I have always done things alone. I was used to that, I found success in that, I became accustomed to that.

You see, she is much faster than me. She has done half marathons before. LOTS of them. And full marathons before. She is a hare. I am a tortoise. So when we talked about it again, I still wasn't convinced.

Here is my PR: sure, I lost 125 pounds while training to run those 13 miles. But that's not it. I have faced the biggest beast that has made my world increasingly smaller. But that's not it. I had the courage to finally come out and tell my story to a world of peers that think being gay AND christian isn't a thing. But that's not it either.

My PR is that I don't have to run this race alone. Not this one, not the next one, not the metaphorical one, none of them.

I have had some amazing conversations with people since coming out. I have had friends that love Jesus tell me that their God doesn't accept my lifestyle, and I have had friends that love Jesus tell me how proud they are of me. I have had people tell me that watching me come out has given them courage to be more loving to the gay Christian community. I have had people tell me that we, as a society, are on a slippery slope where everything has become permissible and it has to stop.

Each conversation has been amazing because I have loved each one of those conversations individually. My friends are wrestling with what God truly believes about being a gay christian. And my story will be the only "arguing" I will ever have with them. My job is not to convince anyone of anything. My job is to try to love like

Jesus. And I can't do that alone.

So Julie and I ran those 13 miles. And it was hard. But the journey allowed me to reflect, be thankful, be emotional, and be ready for what's next. Together. Not alone. I cried when we started, and I cried when we finished. I can't believe we did it. I am so glad I checked my pride and accepted Julie's offer to run with me. She was smiling the entire time, so happy to be next to me. And to be honest, it looked effortless for her! But it was profound and meaningful, and as we crossed the finish, I knew it was just the beginning. For both of us.

Together. Not alone.

"I lost 125 pounds training for this race."

Race day t-shirt has been ordered! Shout out
to Custom Ink!

So, the half marathon I signed up for is this weekend. March 17th. I signed up back in September. And back in September, March felt like forever away. Back in September, I wasn't running at all. I was walking a lot, biking some, and that's about it. My body was two months out of surgery, but I felt ready to train for a 13 mile run that would happen in 6 months.

I started running. I am blessed to be surrounded by the accountability that you HAVE to have to make this happen. I mean when you work at the YMCA, and your job has a full gym downstairs from your office, and in fact encourages you to take time off during the day to work out, you sort of lose all excuses...

I just looked back at my training plan and over the course of those six months, I have run 137 miles. That's a lot of thinking time. And a lot of dreaming time. And a lot of thankful time.

I decided to make a funny t-shirt for the race on Sunday. Since it's St. Patrick's Day, I am having a green t-shirt made that says "I lost 125 pounds training for this race." I stared at that design on my computer today and thought about every pound. I tried to remember 318 pound me. I tried to remember what it felt like to run that first mile. I tried to remember all of it, because I never want to lose how thankful I am for the past six months.

The funny t-shirt design will serve its purpose and then some. I ran 5 miles today after being sick all last week. 125 pounds ago I could never imagine running 5 miles. Every one of the 137 miles I have run has meant the world to me. To watch my life completely change in the past six months is nothing short of miraculous. The weight loss surgery was the catalyst to me finally letting go of the fear of letting others in fully. I lost my "protective shell," but that shell kept out the bad AND the good. It never let people hug me, console me, be beside me, or even get to be near me.

5 miles today on my "short" run. Six months
ago, I would never believe this to be
something I could do!

The sermon at church this past weekend was about thankfulness. And how our thankfulness and joy should be loud. And public. And exciting. My partner and I are still going to church weekly, and we love it. We feel love there. Our experience has spurred on conversations greater and deeper than either of us imagined, and we feel that it is our purpose on this earth. To hold on to each other and let others know they are never alone.

On Sunday, my thankfulness will be loud. And public. And exciting. What a milestone and what a step in the biggest year of my life. And hey, if you are near the Tobacco Trail on Sunday around 9:30 am with nothing to do, I'll see you at the finish line. I'll be the one hobbling across it in a green t-shirt that says "I lost 125 pounds training for this race."

And I'll also be the one giving you a HUGE hug.

&

I ran 10 miles today. My brain was full,
and the time passed quickly. Side benefit
of overthinking everything in life?

I am 42 years old. For as long as I can remember, I have been told that being gay is a sin and I would have to choose my relationship with God, or my true identity. So for my whole adult life, I hid who I really was and never pursued a partnership with anyone. I chose God and denied my desire to share my life with someone.

When I had weight loss surgery in July of last year, I finally dealt with the one thing that had separated me from the rest of the world around me. I finally addressed the life long challenge that felt impossible to conquer. I realized I had no reason to hide anymore, that it would be terrifying to come out for all the reasons I remained hidden my whole life. What would my church friends say? What would my old Young Life friends say? What would my YMCA co-workers say?

I am a gay christian. I am gay, and I am a christian. And. Not or. I am wrestling with what the Old Testament says about me. I am wrestling with what the New Testament says about me. However, I am not wrestling with what Jesus says about me.

When I started telling my friends in July that I was gay, I was embraced with open arms. I got the classic responses of "DUH" and "what took you so long?" and "how long have you known?" to which I always answer "how long have you known you're straight?"

I had a wonderful coming out experience. Last week at the church I attend, the pastor gave a sermon on how same sex marriage is wrong, and if anyone in the congregation is struggling with a same sex relationship, they offer counseling to help people with that. I was at church with my partner, and the pastor's sermon only made me hold her hand tighter.

That church sermon was the only time I felt shamed since coming out. Therapy wouldn't turn me straight just like therapy wouldn't change my skin color or my gender. It is not a choice to be gay. No one would choose this life. It is lonely, and difficult, and heart breaking to think I have to be alone in order to honor God's call on my life. I hid for 42 years. I chose to hide for 42 years because I had well-meaning christian leaders that I trusted preach the same message I heard last week.

My partner and I are staying at this church. After the sermon this week, we had strangers come up to us and hug us, saying they were sorry for the message and that it doesn't represent the congregation. My partner talked to the pastor afterwards and let him know how offended and judged we felt, and that we didn't think he represented the views of the congregation. The pastor was kind, but had nothing to say.

This week at church, we walked in together holding hands. And we are staying at this church rather than choosing to run away because of the people in the congregation. The teenagers that might be struggling with their own sexuality, the older couple with a gay son or daughter wondering how to love them like Jesus does, the interracial couples that fear being judged themselves. We are staying because we love the people, love the message, and love the challenge.

I am a Christian. And I am gay. And I don't want to be ashamed of either of these parts of my life anymore. It's amazing what a little courage can do. And a lot of support.

And. Not or.

ONE-DER-LAND!

The stalls are real! It might have taken me three weeks
to lose that last pound to hit the 100's but we did it!

This has been a week. A challenging week. A week in which I lost the joy in what I am accomplishing with my weight loss and my health.

Has that ever happened to you? You are cruising along and staying on track and feeling great but something else hits you from the side that you weren't expecting. For me, that was several things this week. Whether it's work, family, finances, whatever causes the stress - something seemingly small can derail us.

And I was derailed this week. But I can't turn to food like I used to my whole life. However, I did have to fight the desire to crawl into a hole. I fought the urge to stop responding to texts and phone calls, close the blinds, call in sick, and pull the covers over my head. Instead, I am learning how to fight through pain instead of hide from it. I am learning how to let people in instead of locking them out. I am learning to let myself be taken care of as much as I have taken care of others.

God gave me a gift this week. He allowed me to hit that Onederland mark. I didn't do anything spectacular this week. I am eating like I am supposed to, trying to get 100 grams of protein a day, and working out 5 days a week. The half marathon I am training for is in 3 weeks. I am running. A lot. But the weight loss stalls are real, and when I asked my nutritionist if I was done losing weight she quickly, emphatically said "NO! You will lose for the next 8-10 months."

When was the last time I saw a "1" at the beginning of my weight? When was the last time I weighed one hundred something pounds? Was it middle school? If so, I don't remember because my brain blocked the traumatizing days of getting physicals as a 12 year old. And every year after that. The social anxiety and embarrassment of having to go to a doctor once a year and pretend that I wasn't overweight crushed me. The end of the summer was always nerve racking because I knew that any day, my mom would take me for my yearly physical.

We have to let go of one thing to hold on to another. I have to let go of my past to hold on to my future. One summer in high school, I was getting out of a boat to step on to the dock and I hesitated. I hesitated too long with one foot in the boat and one foot on the dock. The boat split from the dock and I fell into the water, flailing with windmill arms the whole way down. I should have let go of the boat and trusted the dock. With both feet. All in.

We are all moving forward. Onederland is not the end. But today, I am resting in this accomplishment and reflecting on how I got here. I am overwhelmed and grateful. I am hopeful and happy. I am proud and humbled. And I am letting go of the boat and trusting the dock.

With both feet.

All in.

This elusive place called Onederland

If you have read my blogs before, I think I know what you're thinking. She did it! She made it to Onederland! What an accomplishment?

Nope.

It's been three weeks and my weight has just...stalled. My doctor said eat more carbs. My nutritionist said eat more often. My nurse said eat more protein. My body is changing but the scale just...isn't.

I share this for one big reason: this weight loss thing is a battle for my heart and my soul. And I don't want to only share the victories. The real truth is that I am wildly frustrated. And I am wondering when I will get to see a "1" at the beginning of my weight on the scale. I thought I would have crushed that milestone by now. A three week stall when I am training for a half marathon and running 15-18 miles a week?

Come on.

The thing that I hate about social media is we don't really post what's truly going on. We post the best stuff. The stuff we are proud of. The moments that we want to remember. Because why would we post about the struggles? The stuff we are ashamed of? The moments we want to forget?

Amidst this frustration of a perceived "lack of progress" I am reminded daily of how far I have come. And God gives me three words every day when I want to quit.

Stay. The. Course.

Stay the course. Remain and be present in the process. Embrace the discomfort. Do the work. Share all of it. All of it. Because our collective story will never just be the "facebook moments." Our story is the highs and lows and all points in between. 

We will make it to Onederland. When it's time. And until then, we will stay the course. Today I ran 9 miles, because that's what is on my training plan. Tomorrow will reveal itself to me. 

When it's time.