I know what recovery from obesity feels like. I have been there before…for 30, glorious days; I am there again (currently on day 6). The reason I’m talking about it is because I want you to know that it IS POSSIBLE and it CAN HAPPEN. Not that I’m gonna race down the road, proclaiming that I am “CURED” from my disease — because that’s simply not true. Nor, will I pay a skywriter to trace the announcement that I will never binge again.

The truth of the matter is:

• TODAY, I am living in recovery.
• TODAY, I know what peace feels like.
• TODAY, I know that it is possible.
• TODAY, I know that tomorrow holds no promises.

As my wise friend, Dr. Connie Stapleton reminded me — just this morning — I must live life on life’s terms. It sounds so much kinder when you say it that way; thank you, Connie.

If you are struggling with an addiction, and fear that you can’t conquer it –don’t believe the lie; You can conquer it, and if you are willing to do the work…you will.

Mine is a message of hope. It comes from someone who — at least for today — is living in recovery. I make no promises, but I will tell you that the feeling is glorious.

Never give up!

Have you ever watched one of those shows about people who survive, despite the odds? They become better people than they were before the event — even if they lose a limb, are constrained to a wheelchair, or suffer brain damage. I am always amazed when I see the story of someone who loses two legs, but ends up running marathons or climbing mountains! I’m awestruck by someone who is wheelchair-bound, yet manages to roll themselves cross-country. I think of the injured military vet who serves another tour of duty, even though he his horribly disfigured or permanently disabled – all because he can’t imagine doing anything less for his country.

I remember Christopher Reeve – always a good-looking guy and talented actor, but not someone you’d look to in a philanthropic way. He, arguably, touched and changed many more lives AFTER his accident, than he probably would have BEFORE. He turned his disability into a super-ability.

For Christopher Reeve, and those like him, failure is not an option. So often, they achieve mind-boggling things, far beyond the imaginations and expectations of doctors and loved ones. They not only BEAT the odds, they blow them away. I’m pretty sure none of them ever put “surviving a catastrophe” on their bucket list, yet once it happened, they found a way to dig deep and flourish. They managed to do things no one would EVER expect of them, and yet…they expect nothing LESS.

Most people don’t plan to be in a plane crash, explosion, horse accident, massive earthquake or tsunami. They don’t wake up one day and say, “After I get my degree, I’m going to lose my leg in a deadly car crash and then join a ski team,” and I don’t think anyone would consciously CHOOSE the life of a survivor. But, my guess is, they wouldn’t CHOOSE to live it any differently, once it happens.

Extraordinary survivors make a conscious decision to thrive, instead of survive. So, what is it about people that causes them to not only rise TO the occasion, but rise ABOVE it? Where does that phenomenal character trait come from?

Did they know they had it?
Do you think you have it?
Do I believe I have it?

When I was a kid, and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said things like, “I want to become a famous cartoonist”, “I want to be a stand-up comedian,” “I want to be a teacher,” or “I want to get married to a handsome man and become a mom.”

I never said, “I want to become so obese that I will put my life on hold for 25 years, make my poor (handsome) husband miserable, not take any pictures with my child while she’s growing up, and then have bariatric surgery so I can lose weight and create a new life.”

Not that I am comparing my Bariatric After Life™ to literally surviving a plane crash, but in a sense, that is exactly how I felt. My plane was crashing and I had no parachute. I was bracing for impact, yet somehow, I survived. It’s like my world had collapsed and I was under a pile of rubble. I saw a pinhole of sunlight, then used every ounce of my strength to claw my way out and reach the light of day. I was being swept away in a tsunami, drowning in my obesity.

I DID think I was going to die, and at times, I almost WILLED it to happen. I WANTED something to put me out of my misery. Believe me when I say, I did not have the mentality of a survivor. If you’d asked me then whether I wanted to live to be 100, I’d have told you I didn’t even want to live to be 40. It doesn’t help to feel guilty about that now; I was captive to a catastrophe – one I believed was of my own making.

But here I am, more than 3 years post-gastric bypass surgery and I AM A SURVIVOR. I am doing things I NEVER imagined I’d be doing with my life. I am somehow maintaining a healthy weight, active lifestyle, and balance eating program. The miracle of all is: I survived and am doing the things I was created to do; I’m becoming the person God created me to be.

I believe there is a hero in each of us; that we have the capacity to survive whatever we set our minds to. I am not perfect; my arms have big, long scars (faded, thank you), and my body is shrinkly and droopy, but I have survived drowning, being buried alive, and crashing — all in one lifetime.

That’s not the same as losing a limb, but you might say I lost an entire person and found myself.

Several years ago, MexiKen and I decided that we wanted to make blanket kits for the homeless. We were going to get those flannel Mexican blankets, roll them with a bungee cord, then put some socks, a razor, soap, a comb, toothpaste and a toothbrush inside. You know, everything someone living on the streets might need to feel a little better, despite their circumstances.

We took our plan to the church, to see if anyone else might want to join us on our mission, but instead of resounding cheers, we were WARNED AGAINST doing it at all. To our surprise, folks in the parish who had experience working with homeless people told us that, while we had a “nice idea,” we wouldn’t be able to do it without police escorts!

Me being the Pollyanna that I am, I was SHOCKED to hear this. I mean, why would I need protection? Who WOULDN’T want a warm blanket and comforting items to alleviate some of the discomfort? Who wouldn’t be grateful for a little warmth and compassion?

Unfortunately, in those days, I didn’t really understand the human condition as well as I do now.

I didn’t understand that people are proud and can easily feel “judged.”
I didn’t understand that people are embarrassed and can’t always accept a “handout.”
I didn’t understand that people are angry, and don’t want “pity”.
I didn’t understand that some people don’t want help because they don’t think they are worthy, have value, or can still benefit from it.
I didn’t understand that some people think they are a lost cause, a waste of space, or unlovable.

I didn’t understand MYSELF very well, so how could I understand others?

When I was obese, I wanted help, but I didn’t want to be judged. I didn’t want to “hear it” from doctors, nutritionists and personal trainers who “meant well” but didn’t understand what I was going through. I didn’t want to be told that I had to accept the “blanket” they were giving me, because it usually meant that I would have to do something to earn it.

It’s weird, but the blanket kits I wanted to offer to the homeless are analogous to the support I now offer to others who are struggling to lose, re-lose, or maintain their weight.

I say, “Here, take this blanket. You’ll feel better. It will make you warm.”

But they reply, “Why should I take your blanket? You don’t know what it’s like to be cold and hungry. You don’t know how much I’ve suffered. Look at you. You’re dressed warmly, you have a roof over your head, and food in the fridge.”

I sat, “Yes, but I was there once. Right where you are now. I did suffer. I felt cold and lonely. I needed help and didn’t take it when it was given. Accept my help now!”

They say, “You think you’re better than me. You’re judging me. You’re only doing this to maker YOURSELF feel better. I don’t have the problem — YOU have the problem. I’m really glad you’ve got *all the answers,* but I didn’t ask you to answer anything for me.”

Sometimes it hurts because I KNOW I can alleviate some of the pain and suffering. But then I remember that timing is everything, and we all have to come to that place where we are open to accepting help. We must drop to our knees and say that we need help. We have to admit that we have a problem that is bigger than ourselves. We must finally accept the blanket.

You know what? I’ve got blankets to offer, and there are NO strings attached. I am judging no one for accepting the comfort I offer. I come with open hands, an open heart, and lots of love. I do remember what it feels like to be “COLD.” I do remember how it feels to suffer and feel worthless.

If you accept the gift I’m offering, you owe me nothing in return. All I ask is that, one day, when you are warm and healthy, and your heart has a little extra to give, you will offer YOUR “blanket” to someone else — because YOU remember what it feels like to struggle.

My journey of recovery did not begin when I had weight loss surgery, anymore than it ended when I chose sobriety over my binge eating addiction. Actually, I began my journey of discovery and healing when I my daughter was 2-years old, which means that I have been working on myself for a long time (more than 18 years). Of course, when I set out on this mission, I was doing it because I had hit rock-bottom and couldn’t imagine living life anymore. I wasn’t going to “do” anything to end it, but I certainly didn’t want to wake up to another day of hell.

And so, at the ripe-old age of 26, having been married for 3 years and being a lousy mother for 2, I decided to get help. I was prepared to be beaten up. I was ready to be told that my fat and sickness was my own fault. I was prepared for the worst.

But, something strange happened; a compassionate doctor recognized something of value in me. She saw a spark of hope and perseverance. She saw someone who was ready to get better.

And so began my journey. I was diagnosed with late luteal phase disorder with major depressive disorder. That was a fancy way of saying I suffered from really bad PMS and got depressed for longer periods than would be considered “normal” or “average.”

I was prescribed Wellbutrin and a whole new world opened before me. For the first time, I heard SILENCE in my brain. I stopped hearing voices (my own), telling me all of the things I HAD to do, WASN’T doing, SHOULD be doing, needed to STOP doing; could be doing BETTER. It was a constant chorus of ME, but it was no Hallelujah chorus.

So, the drugs helped, and I lost weight (70 pounds), and I stopped feeling crazy.

But then…like everything else, the “drugs” stopped working. Or, I decided I didn’t need them anymore, or I decided that the side-effects weren’t worth the benefits. I don’t know. Whatever it was, at about age 28, I stopped the anti-depressants, and determined that I was “cured” and could “do it on my own.”

BIG. MISTAKE.

But, who wants to ADMIT that they have screwed up their own recovery? Who wants to admit that they need drugs to function? And that, if they DON’T take them, they spin out of control?

Not me – that’s who.

And so, I went about my business. Frantically distracting myself with a more-than-full-time job, full-time college, and extremely part-time wife and motherhood. Not surprisingly, I got fatter and fatter.

Doctors would tell me to move more and eat less. But I hurt. Inside and out. I couldn’t do what they wanted.

I learned that I had Fibromyalgia. Now, you’d think a diagnosis like that would be a relief, but 15 years ago, no one knew what fibromyalgia even WAS. Most people — including my husband — believed it was “all in my head.” That I was lazy, didn’t want to feel better, or worse, that I was making it all up for attention. The treatment at the time was sleeping pills, pain pills and depression pills. A ’round the clock cocktail of attitude enhancers. Did I mention the side effects of the meds? Yeah, one of them was actually shown to increase cravings for CHOCOLATE! What!? I did NOT need that.

So, I stopped the drugs. Again.

And I didn’t sleep. So I hurt when I awoke. But I dragged myself to work and school, leaving NOTHING for home and even LESS for myself.

And then I turned 30, and I thought, “I like this. I’m not 20-something anymore. I believe I am supposed to have the answers now.” (Nothing like positive-thinking to motivate change.) But, nothing DID change. I earned my degree, but the angels didn’t sing, and the gates of heaven didn’t fly open for me, I was still fat, my marriage was in trouble, I was an even WORSE mother, and I still HURT.

Enter: My very best friend on the planet (Jan). God sent her to me when I needed her the most. She reached out to me and offered me hope – something I hadn’t dared to expect. After all, I’d determined that I wasn’t worth it. I was a smart woman with a wicked sense of humor. I was creative, talented, attractive. I had a lot going for me, but I had NOTHING — because I didn’t believe in my own value.

Over the course of the next few years, my best friend patiently tutored me in the fine art of living, loving and thriving. To be clear, her style is pretty unconventional. That is because she is a choleric and I am a sanguine. She is like my father, and I am like…well…pretty much no one ELSE in my family. She is like my husband. I am…again, like pretty much no one ELSE in my family. Our daughter is an interesting combination of both Sanguine AND Choleric, but choleric usually always wins.

I could go into great detail about what these personality types mean, but this is not the time or place. What you need to understand about these two, very different personalities is this:

The Choleric KNOWS he is right, doesn’t consider any other opinions on the matter and needs no vote of consensus. He is completely FLOORED when someone says they are HURT by a his actions or statements. The idea of someone being hurt by words is simply is NOT on the radar because FEELINGS are not part of DECISIONS. This is NOT to say that a choleric has no feelings. They do…but they aren’t gonna let YOU know what they are, and they certainly won’t be ruled by them.

The Sanguine, on the other hand, HOPES he is right, considers everyone else’s opinions (to the point of exhaustion), and is completely FLOORED when someone says they are HURT by his actions – especially when he tried so hard NOT to hurt them. Feelings rule the day and a choleric can very quickly SQUASH a sanguine with a withering look or offhanded (read: insensitive, thoughtless, mean) comment. Okay, that’s the sanguine determining that the comment is anything other than what the choleric intends it to be, but that is beside the point.

Needless to say, CHOLERICS and SANGUINES approach circumstances very differently.

So, my dear friend (you know, the *PATIENT* choleric?) would beat into me what needed to be done and I would sweetly tell her that I couldn’t do *it* (whatever *it* was, because what she was advocating was MEAN, and I was NICE.)

Which brings me to a critical part of my story of RECOVERY.

There are a LOT of reasons it has taken me 18 years to get to this point. If sheer will or desire had been enough, I’d have chosen recovery a LOT sooner. But, just because I KNEW something had to be done, didn’t mean I was ready or capable of doing it.

Recovery is a decision tree that looks a bit like this:

1. I have a problem.
2. Here is the solution.
3. Am I ABLE to do that?
4. Do I WANT to do that?
5. WILL I do that?
6. What WILL I do?
7. What CAN I do?
8. Will I choose to fix the problem?
9. If not, place on back burner until later date.
10. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

Quite often, I KNEW what I had to do, but couldn’t do it yet, or couldn’t keep doing it. That was because i needed to grow in strength of character, confidence, experience — whatever — to have the SKILL to accomplish it. I guess you could say that simply KNOWING what to do does not assure that it WILL or CAN happen. Recovery is like a muscle. You have to work at it; build it, break it down, rebuild it and maintain it or it will atrophy.

For example, I learned that I could treat my Fibromyalgia with regular chiropractic care, massage therapy, vitamins and adrenal supplements and…A DIET FREE OF YEAST AND SUGAR. My symptoms were greatly diminished for 2-years, while I following this strict program. I even lost weight. But, I wasn’t ready to do this for the rest of my life. I didn’t have the strength or willpower…mostly, I didn’t have the BELIEF that I could do it. I wanted the reward, but I wasn’t willing to do the work.

Now, think about recovery as being an athlete. Perhaps he or she dreams of becoming an Olympian and winning a Gold medal. Well, at age 10, that athlete doesn’t possess the strength, skill or experience to win the medal. He or she may have the DESIRE, but isn’t ready to accomplish the task at hand. The athlete can choose to give up (because it’s too hard, he or she wants it NOW and isn’t willing to wait), OR, he or she can choose to continue working hard to one day win the medal. Some activities will have to wait until enough strength is built, while others can be accomplished in anticipation of reaching the next level

In my case, I had to learn when to attempt different things in my growth. When would I be experienced enough to clear this obstacle? When would I be wise enough to avoid it? When would I be strong enough to muscle through it? Simple desire wasn’t enough. I had to understand my ability and accept the fact that some obstacles would not be cleared until I was ready to clear them. Quite often, the block was MENTAL, because I truly DID possess the skill…I just didn’t believe it.

So, my dear friend (remember her?) would tell me what i needed to do in any given situation, and I would tell her if I thought I could do it, and if so, how I could accomplish it (in my OWN, Sanguine way, of course)  There were many, many times when I told her that I KNEW she was right, and I KNEW what had to be done, but I KNEW I wasn’t ready to do it. She respected that, but persevered, as she knew one day, I WOULD be ready.

Just like you have to be “this tall” to ride the “big people” rides at the amusement park, I had to wait until I was “this tall” (emotionally and spiritually) to clear some major hurdles in my life. And, I guess I needed the little sign to prove it.

I’d like to think that I never stopped running or trying. But that’s not true. Sometimes, I sat down, put my head in my hands, and cried. Sometimes, I threw tantrums and screamed that I couldn’t do it; that I’d NEVER do it. Sometimes, I wondered why I even tried.

And then, it happened. I began to see progress. I experienced success. I was stronger, I had experience, and I BELIEVED I could achieve it. I realized that, if I waited for it to come to me, or if I waited for it to be EASY, it would never happen.

No, I was going to have to stretch far beyond my comfort zone. I was going to have to be willing to fail. I had to be willing to get back up again — every time I fell. Oh, and I had to wiling to do this ALL in front of EVERYBODY. That’s because, once I had weight loss surgery, I threw the doors and windows of my life open for all the world to see. When you do that –  when you put yourself out there – you’re saying that you understand you will be criticized, ridiculed, vilified and attacked, BUT, you are HOPING that, in avoiding, clearing or muscling THROUGH the obstacles, you will be able to encourage, motivate and inspire others along the way.

Life is a risk – Not something to avoid. I finally figured this out.

So, you see, recovery is a combination of things: It’s deciding if you even NEED to do it. Then, being mature enough to recognize when you’re ready, learning what’s involved, determining that you WILL do it, proclaiming that you CAN do it…and accepting that you may NOT succeed on your first….second…or even fifth time.

Recovery is a process.

When people say that I’m brave or wise…or stupid — I take it all in stride. In reality, I’m stubborn and I’m blessed. I have worked hard to accomplish my recovery so far, but this is not a journey with an end. On the contrary, recovery will never stop for me, though, the sanguine in me HOPES it will become a little easier.

FOOTNOTE: And..about my marriage? C’mon, you’ve read about MexiKen…he stuck by me through the whole mess, and even worked on his own stuff. he’s better and I’m better and we’re better together. You need a good partner to help you over the hurdles. And my daughter? Well, that’s a work in progress. After all, the things that happen to us when we are young are a lot more influential (and lasting) than the things that happen to us as adults. It takes a lot of work to recognize the problems to even begin fixing them. But, that’s what therapy and love are for. We’re working on it, and she is an amazing young woman.

Uncharted Territory

There’s no Google Map for where I’m going, so I’m blazing my own trail. I am, of course, talking about my Recovery from Binge Eating.

When you’re addicted to things like alcohol, drugs, or gambling, it’s fairly easy to figure out the “rules” of your sobriety. What I mean by that is, if you are shooting for complete abstinence, then any alcoholic drink, illegal drug, or betting (including lottery scratch-offs) would probably be on the list of “don’ts.”

But, when you get into addictions like shopping, sex, or food, the terms of agreement can get a little squirrelly. In other words, if you are addicted to sex, does that mean you can never HAVE sex for the rest of your life? Probably not (unless you have taken a vow of celibacy, but that’s different). How about shopping? What constitutes “acceptable” shopping, and what constitutes “addictive” shopping?

Which brings the discussion around to FOOD. I have specifically made a decision to be SOBER FROM BINGEING. That means that if a food will trigger a binge, I will not touch it. I already know what a lot of them are – Fritos, Oreos, Fruit Loops, Chocolate Chip cookies, etc. — but I don’t have a exhaustive list of EVERY food item that is likely to cause a problem, so, how do I handle that? How do I know when I’m making a choice that would end my recovery?

Well, last night, as I was strolling through CVS (I had to buy hairspray, duh) — my mind was darting around like a pinball machine:

Me: Oh, Valentine’s Day. Look at all the candy.
Me2: I clearly don’t need candy. That would be on the list.

Me: But it would only be one little box of sugar free stuff.
Me2: Yeah, but I wouldn’t just eat one piece a day; I’d want the whole thing, so, no. That is not the thing to look for.

Me: But, what will MexiKen buy me for Valentine’s Day?
Me2: He never buys you candy anyway, so let him get you a card. And maybe flowers. You aren’t addicted to flowers.

Me: Oh….look at the Russell Stover Sugar Free Gummy Bears. That’s a small bag.
Me2: Nope. You eat those in the car, on the way home. And home is only 3 minutes down the road (with traffic). That is definitely a no-no. Me: What about…?

And the conversation continued.

Now, I realize that this conversation might sound trivial or even frustrating, but to me, the exchange was very, very comforting. That is because I was giving myself the chance to consider and reject each item, based upon its likelihood to cause a binge. Last night, instead of feeling CHEATED, I felt EMPOWERED. That is because, even though I don’t have an official “list” of things I will NOT choose to consume, I am confident that I have the skills to make the decision “on-the-fly.” My hope is that I will continue to have the determination to do this, but I cannot project that far down the road. Today is a new day. Yesterday completed Day 8 of my Sobriety from Bingeing – and I ended on a very high note.

Well, today, I began on an equally high note. That is because, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t have coffee-on-the-brain when I awoke. I did have a “headache-on-the-brain,” and had to take my usual Tylenol. Which led me to tell myself that “Maybe I needed a cup of coffee, because withdrawals from caffeine” were “causing the headache.” Now, remember that I have allowed myself a maximum of TWO cups of coffee a day. I have continued to honor that.

So, I ambled down the hall (man, that wood floor is cold), and made a cup of coffee. I didn’t get that usual “ahhhhhh” feeling from it, but, I shrugged it off. It was only about 10 minutes ago that I realized I “might not need” coffee anymore. I decided that I “might not have” that second cup today. Then, I did the unthinkable and pondered that I “might not have coffee anymore.” I haven’t absolutely decided yet, and this indecision does NOT nullify the terms and conditions of my Recovery. But, I will reflect a little more today and see if I get a clear message that this is the correct next step on my journey.

Ultimately, there is no roadmap for Bingeing. That’s because everyone has different “drugs” of choice. I have to make it up as I go along, BUT, the thing to remember is, I can’t make the decision AFTER I’ve chosen incorrectly. (In other words, I cannot plan U-Turns into the road trip). I need to be vigilant and patient, and, when in doubt, say NO. That really is the safest route to take, because impatience and absent-minded eating are the hallmarks of my addiction. If I’m in a hurry, don’t want to think about it, or worse, hear myself sayING the words, “I can have just a little bit of that. A little won’t hurt. That’s not bad. Besides, I really want it.” — it’s a pretty safe bet that WHATEVER it is, is gonna go on the “NO” list.

The rule of the day is to BE STILL and listen to myself.

COMPASSION. What do you think of when you see or hear that word? If you’re like me, you probably think “understanding,” right? Seems simple so far. If I have COMPASSION for another person, then my job is to be UNDERSTANDING and FORGIVING.  So, if someone does something to harm me, I am supposed to have COMPASSION for them by FORGIVING them?

On second thought, maybe I don’t really “get” this compassion stuff. I mean, I always thought I was a pretty compassionate person, but when you put it that way, I think I’m really not, and that is not making me happy.

Unless…there is a different way of considering it.

And, just why would I be discussing compassion here, amidst all of my talk of addiction and healing and growth and living a healthy Bariatric After Life™? Well, as it turns out, the concept of compassion is one of the 7 Wonders mentioned in the new book I’m reading. I’ve already “learned” the first 3 (Courage, Faith and Truth) and they went pretty smoothly. I was like, “Yeah, okay, I got this. I can do this. I’ve got courage. I’ve got faith. I understand truth. Compassion should be a slam-dunk.”

And then I started learning about it. Of course, many people make the mistake of confusing “compassion” with “blind forgiveness” which invariably leads to “excusing bad behavior” — but, as it turns out, that is NOT the point of compassion at all.

In its truest form — and I will not do this concept justice (but then, I didn’t write the book) — the idea of COMPASSION is taking the time to UNDERSTAND what makes another human being tick. Events don’t happen in a vacuum, and people do not just suddenly “become evil” without any negative (or evil) input. It is a process of maybe a whole bunch of things; a whole bunch of suffering and hurt that are piled on, until pain is the only thing left.

When someone does something “bad” that “hurts” me, the point of compassion is to stop and ask, “What brought that person to this point? What made them hurt so much that they had to hurt me?”

For me, the typical “go-to” answer is simple: “WHO CARES? It’s not MY fault that they were X or Y as a child. It’s not MY fault that they didn’t have this or that, or that they suffered through some traumatic event or loss.”

The truth of it is, I may very well have been subjected to similar ugliness, evil and hurt, but have NOT chosen do the same things that another person might do. My reality cannot invalidate the truth for the other person. Perhaps I have LEARNED to overcome my hurt and pain; perhaps I have received grace, forgiveness and understanding that they didn’t; perhaps it is up to ME to help them to grow out of their pain, so they can become better people…

I’m not sure. All I DO know is, I have a much different understanding of compassion since reading this book, and I can see that it very definitely does have a prominent place in my personal growth and healing. There are no accidents. I’ll consider this a breadcrumb on my journey…(Read the book, you’ll get it

Here’s how the process of learning compassion looks in my life:

There are people whom I have “written off.” It’s sad, but true. I did it to protect myself. I had all of the right justifications behind my actions — I couldn’t allow others to continue hurt me; I had to do the right thing, I couldn’t excuse bad behavior, I didn’t have time for people to have their *crap* all over me, I didn’t need to know why someone else chose NOT to accept their defects and seek help…

Blah, blah, blah.

At best, it’s a defense mechanism. At worst, it’s a way of isolating myself – starving myself of true love. Choosing NOT to have compassion for another person is really saying, “You don’t matter to me and I don’t have time for your problems in my life. My problems are more important. Now, go away.”

Oh boy. That is bad. That is poisonous. That is the ultimate toxin. FOR ME — not for THEM. That’s the irony. I believe it was the Buddha who said, “My anger doesn’t hurt you, it hurts me.” (Horribly butchered translation, but you get the idea).

Same with a lack of compassion. When I do not find compassion for another person, I am only hurting myself. One of the things that Dr. Albow says in the book is that TRUE compassion is not crying because YOU hurt, but crying because someone ELSE hurts. That is a pretty powerful message. Have you ever cried when you watched a touching commercial? How about a movie where someone dies? My guess is, you were able to understand the person’s pain, which made you cry, because you realized how much it would hurt YOU if you experienced the same thing.

That, my friends, is compassion.

And so, as I set out on the next leg of my crazy journey, I realize that I am being called to survey and evaluate all of the connections in my life. I must find the hurtful places…then learn compassion. Try to understand why they hurt, then understand how I would hurt in the same situation.

I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to agree with it. But I DO have to do it.
After all, shouldn’t I hope for the same consideration? Wouldn’t I expect compassion?

This is a work in progress. Trust me. I’ve got a LONG way to go here, but I’m willing to make the journey.

Just what in the HECK is going on? I’m sure you’ve been asking that question more than usual, in light of my latest spate of posts.

Well, in case you’re wondering, you are witnessing the transformation of an addict. I have always been quite open about my battles and, even though I might not fit the description of a “traditional” binger — meaning that, I never purged or ate to the point of nausea — I AM an addict, because my “drug of choice” (food) controls my life.

I have been in therapy for more than a year and a half, and in that time, I have worked hard to fix the things about myself that I could. I always flirted with the idea of recovery, but never quite knew how to get there. I realize now that I was always looking for a secret, some magic or a hidden key to unlock the mystery of my disease. I didn’t believe I could conquer it without knowing exactly what was causing it.

At one point, about 8 months ago, I even downloaded the 12-Steps, so I could actually read them and decide if it was something I could (or needed) to do. I distinctly remember going through a few of them, thinking, “Oh good, I’m already doing this one! Hey, I’ve got this one nailed!” But then, I read others, and mourned, “Good HEAVENS! I can’t do that one and I don’t think I will EVER be able to do THAT one.” It just seemed impossible. Too hard. Too….unattainable.

I pondered whether one could actually be a 10-Stepper.

So, I put the 12-Steps away for awhile and pretty much forgot about them.

Until a major epiphany 2 weeks ago, when some pieces of the puzzle suddenly came together and, for the first time in my life, I saw the picture of the journey I was meant to take. It was like a shining light from above, completely lit up the world before me, and I instantly knew what I was supposed to do. More importantly, I had no doubt that I COULD do it, and knew that I already WAS.

Fast forward a couple of days (which felt like months), and it occurred to me that I was FINALLY ready to commit to sobriety. I was ready to recover.

I made the decision and announced it to the world. Some people worried that I was being too hard on myself, misunderstanding the parameters of my sobriety. They feared that I was trying to achieve perfection in my eating. You know, to NEVER at “any bad food.” Well, let’s be real. I KNOW that I will make better choices, and less better choices over the course of my Bariatric After Life.™ but I’m more focused on the BINGEING behavior. I KNOW my triggers. I know that I cannot eat “just one cookie,” or “just one piece of candy.” I cannot eat “a single serving of sugar free pie,” and I cannot “eat just one” (the bag even says so!)

Again, I KNOW what I need to avoid, and that is how I define my sobriety: Avoiding (or saying no to) foods which will create the opportunity for me to binge.

So, on Wednesday, January 26, I officially became a recovering addict.

Today, I completed 5, full days of recovery from binge eating.

Yesterday, there were a couple of tense moments where I nearly *forgot* my pledge, and almost allowed myself to talk *ME* into eating *just the crumbs* from MexiKen’s Zucchini Carrot Bread. Well, I came to my senses and very firmly said, “No. I do not need the crumbs from that cake. That will bring me closer TO, instead of further FROM a binge.”

And so it will go, my life in recovery. I will have to be conscious of my actions and not allow myself to eat on auto-pilot. It might seem tenuous, or even punitive, but it is quite the opposite of those things. It is so rewarding when I win a battle by making the healthy choice, and it feels good to know that I am in charge — not the food. I think the point I’m trying to make is, being in recovery gives you FREEDOM and LIBERTY. You are finally FREE when you stop choosing to let your addiction rule your life.

So, anyway, bear with me and understand that I’m pretty enthusiastic about my progress and just want to share my joy. It really does feel like being reborn. It’s like learning all of the answers to everything you always wanted to know, then wanting to shout the answers from the rooftops, so EVERYONE will know. Of course, just like I had to come to my recovery in my own time, I realize that will be the case for many of you, as well.

In the meantime, be kind to yourselves and realize that you are doing the best you can. Continue to educate yourselves on addiction, and don’t be afraid to step out in faith. Finally, don’t keep yourself from healing, just because you don’t understand the “whys” and “wherefores” of your addiction.

That may never come to light, and you’ll have to be okay with it.

Day 6, here I come.

Well, *at least* I’m not addicted to…

I seem to have been on the subject of ADDICTION for awhile now, but anyone who’s read me for any length of time knows that this subject is often at the heart of my messages, even if it is not stated in black and white.

That is because, quite simply, I AM AN ADDICT.

To be fair, not EVERYONE who has bariatric surgery is an addict. Many people will tell you that they just love food, so they consume vast quantities of it in the name of quality. Thus, when they reduce the size of their stomach (or implement surgical restriction), they tend to do quite well in the Bariatric After Life™, because they are still able to eat quality foods, can often stop at “just a bite” of a treat, and are satisfied with less. I call those types of individuals “Foodies.” (Not a new term, but one that makes it easier for me to discuss.)

On the other side of the equation, you have the Food Addict [raises hand here]. What I have noticed is that I have never been particularly concerned with the QUALITY of food; I will pretty much eat any junk that is processed, heavily laden with sugar and white flour, or comes in a noisy package. If they sell it at 7-11 (bananas, apples and “healthy food” notwithstanding) – I want it. And in VAST QUANTITIES, but NOT because of quality. On the contrary, when I want something junky and devoid of nutrition or health benefit, it’s because I WANT IT. I am probably not hungry, but I WANT IT. I might not like it, but I WANT IT.

I want the IDEA of it.

That’s addiction, baby. When I am willing to do whatever it takes to get something that I know has no value, and am willing to suffer the consequences — both long term AND short term, then I know I have a problem.

Which brings me to the thought behind today’s post: Is there a hierarchy of substances to which you can be addicted? In other words, are there “better” things to be addicted to and “worse” things to be addicted to? If you think there are “better” things, does that make you less of an addict.

Is it worse to be addicted to food or addicted to a drug?
Is it worse to be addicted to gambling, or to working out?
Is it worse to be addicted to shopping, or to alcohol?

I’m sure I will get all sorts of interesting feedback, and the comments will all have valid points, but from my perspective, addiction is addiction. Addiction to anything is destructive because you choose to give it power over your life. Ultimately, YOU allow your substance to choose FOR you.

Addiction is different than simply enjoying something..

It is a state that consumes all aspects of your life, even if you don’t realize it at the time.

In my case, as I pondered my new commitment to sobriety, I realized how much damage I have done to those who love me, while convincing myself that I was the only casualty. Unfortunately, when you’re an addict, many people take on shrapnel while you self-destruct. Such was my situation before losing 160 pounds. I could not hike, ride my bike, stroll on the beach, climb stairs, or do anything active. I told myself it was because I didn’t WANT to, more than because I COULDN’T. But Juan DID want to, and he DID enjoy it. He just never told me.

Because I am a food addict, I chose food over my husband. I did the same thing to my daughter. I couldn’t run and play with her around the campsite, because I was too busy eating Zingers or Red Vines. I chose food over my precious child.

Even after surgery, the victims continue to pile up, while I “eat something I shouldn’t” and start to dump, get sleepy, or begin playing self-defeating tapes in my head. Of course, no one would ever know that I allow my addiction to choose for me, because I look great and am healthy. So, you see, it’s not the QUANTITY of the junk I eat (I don’t do it very much and a lot of people would discount it as harmless, telling me to just move on) – It’s the thought process behind it. I KNOW it not going help me, but CHOOSE to do it anyway, while DENYING the consequences.

Addiction hurts EVERYBODY, no matter WHAT substance you’re addicted to.

Now, I won’t get into the ins and outs of chemical dependency, etc., as that is not the point of this post. I am strictly speaking to the behavioral component; the emotional aspect that creates the fertile environment for denial, lying, self-loathing, guilt and doubt. I am no expert; I am simply a student trying live an honest and healthy Bariatric After Life.™

This is what I know: Abstaining from food bingeing is going to be challenging, and there will be hours or days when I want to throw in the towel, because FOOD is not illegal, or dangerous like drugs. I couldn’t be arrested for eating an Oreo (unless I stole it — LOL), and last time I checked, no one would bat an eye if they saw me eat a handful of Fritos. But that is how rationalization and minimizing work: The addict will believe anything to obtain and consume the drug.

Today, when I awoke, I resolved to stay in Recovery for another day. Sobriety: DAY 2.

I am choosing life. I am choosing my path. I am NOT letting my addiction choose FOR me.

So, it looks like I’ll be getting a divorce.

This decision didn’t come easily. There was a lot of pain, suffering, crying, yelling, fighting…the works. I tried really hard to keep it together. I tried to be the person I once was in the relationship, and, when that didn’t work, I fought for value, appreciation and respect for the new me. Unfortunately, as is often the case after bariatric surgery, people change, relationships end and begin, and passions turn to other interests.

Before gastric bypass surgery, I had heard about marriages ending, friendships dissolving, and people being very hurt after massive weight loss. I was a little nervous, and spoke to Juan about my concerns, asking him point blank if he thought it could happen to us. He confidently responded, “No way. We are gonna be great.”

So, I entered the Bariatric After Life™, I lost a lot of weight, and I became a very different person – just as expected.

And then, something unexpected happened. Turns out everyone was right and my relationships DID change. Fortunately for me, Juan was also right – We ARE great. As a matter of fact, we are better than ever. So are my friendships. I am closer to more people than at any time in my life.

So, just who am I divorcing if it’s not my husband or my friends?

It’s my job. I’m divorcing my employer. Only, they don’t know it yet, and I haven’t been at liberty to tell them. It is incredibly difficult to live a lie, but the time is not yet right to “serve the papers.” I don’t know how they could miss the inevitability of it, I mean, I have changed about as much as a single person can — inside and out. I have confidence, energy, enthusiasm, and joy. How does that go unnoticed and unappreciated? How does anybody CRITICIZE good qualities?

It’s not like I took this laying down. I tried to change them. To help them understand the power of the new me. To let them see that they could leverage my new confidence to their advantage. But all they know is fear. Are they afraid that if they acknowledge the good changes in me, I will expect a raise? What do they think will change by treating me with dignity? Why wouldn’t anyone celebrate an employee who never gets sick, never misses work, and hits the ground running every morning? I can’t answer those questions, nor, can I change their attitudes. I am extremely disappointed and saddened by this reality.

Fortunately, I can change my own circumstances. And that is exactly what I will do.

Like any divorce, you reach a point where you realize it’s over. You realize that you don’t have passion for the other party. You can’t really remember what you loved about them in the first place, and you don’t like to think about what brought you together a lifetime ago. It’s hard to remember the good times you had, and it’s even harder to be polite to each other. After all, it’s no longer coming from the heart; it’s all fake and contrived pleasantry. Things I detest.

But, once the anger passes, you are able to make a decision and are willing to accept the consequences. That is not to say that you are comfortable or happy with your choice; it is only to say that you are no longer afraid to do what needs to be done. Perhaps you develop courage.

I spent a lifetime fearing change, being afraid to dream or expect too much. Not having courage. Those days are over and it’s time for a new chapter – a chapter that hasn’t even been written yet. I have faith that, once I turn the page, I WILL find a story to read, and it will be MY STORY. The story of how I took a chance on love and won. No, not the love of another man. This story will now be about my love of life and passion for doing what matters most.

Please understand that I am writing this from a place of strength and determination – not anger. I am not seeking pity, nor am I looking to do harm to my employer. I am not casting them as the villain and myself as the heroine, roped to the railroad tracks. It has been my choice whether or not to work there, and I chose to do so for 13 years. At the end of the day, my employer is not bad; they just aren’t doing the things that should be done, and it is not up to me to change that.

I hope my story of change and rebirth will embolden you to do the right thing with a toxic relationship in your life. Have the courage to take a stand, but remember to do it with grace and integrity. Your new life is calling. What is your answer?

I already know what mine is.

Exercise can be tricky in the Bariatric After Life™ is, especially if you are anything like I was in my “Before” life. That’s because, in my “Before” life, I never experienced “success,” a feeling of accomplishment, or any sort of joy while I was doing it. Plainly and simply, exercise was a dirty word and I was no good at it.

Well, that all changed with gastric bypass surgery. That’s because I was suddenly able to DO things I’d never been able to do, or simply hadn’t done in 20 years. Success was cheap and easy.

“Look! I just did 5 straight minutes on the elliptical!”
“Hey, I’m riding my bike!”
“Wow, I’ve NEVER gone hiking before!”

Yes, *success* was defined by accomplishing ANYTHING that I’d never accomplished before. Thus, 1 mile on the elliptical was momentous; 10 miles on my bike was unheard of, and hiking ANY trail for ANY length of time was miraculous.

Ahhh, but as the pounds melted away and I began to build, strengthen and tone parts of my body I had never used (and didn’t even know existed), success was a little more challenging — though still not out of reach or unachievable.

I *just* had to do the elliptical a little faster, a little longer, or both.
I *just* had to ride my bike farther.
I *just* had to choose steeper trails and go longer distances.

But still, because I was building upon skill mastery, and it wasn’t *that* hard to succeed. Mentally, I was pumped. Nothing could stop me now.

Until I had reconstructive surgery, and gall bladder surgery, and stress fractures, and got hit on my bike.

Okay, so that changed things; a little.

Still…the instant I was able to “get back out” and do things, I did them; with a vengeance; I’d only *slightly* lost ground. I was still able to pick back up with relative ease, and there was joy in the kingdom.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the line – perhaps it was after my 3rd round of plastics, or my 3 month of physical therapy – I realized that the things I had taken for granted; things I figured would NEVER go away….had gone away. Success was now elusive.

I could no longer throw down 200 crunches at a time.
I couldn’t stretch and lay flat on the mat.
I couldn’t do level 8 on my elliptical.
I couldn’t hike steep hills.

I tried not to let it get me down. I told myself I would “get back to where I was,” and “get toned again.” After all, if I’d done it ONCE…even TWICE before, what would make THIS effort any different?

I’ll tell you what would make this time different: 3+ years post-op, and I am not an obese person who is “just happy to accomplish anything.” I’m not a “toned person who can do power tae aerobics three times a week and ride her bike 30 miles on the weekend.”

I am an ordinary person who is working to be fit. Again.

This time, the stakes are higher. I’m tight as a drum and can barely reach my toes; I get dizzy doing crunches, I am slow as molasses on my elliptical. In my before life, these would have been a “simple” challenges to overcome. Now, it is cause for alarm and consternation.

BUT – I refuse to allow doubt to impede my progress. I figured out this morning that I must reshape my thinking about physical fitness. I must treat it as if I am a drug addict who went to rehab, but is relapsing. The instinct is to pick back up where I left off: 30 miles on my bike, 5 miles on level 8 in 45 minutes on my elliptical, a 3 hour hike. Compare that to the drug addict who goes back for the first high and nearly dies of overdose because the body is not tolerant of the same doses as before. Same scenario.

So, what’s the key? Easy does it. There is no need to OD.

Unlike drugs, physical exercise is GOOD and something to do with regularity and utter abandon. It just so happens that the joy will look a little different for awhile.

So as not to leave you on a downer, there is GOOD news at Camp Cari: I AM a little looser than I was on Monday, I did not get dizzy doing my crunches, and I feel my arms strengthening from the weights. I AM making progress and I have QUIT comparing myself to…well…myself.

Have you found yourself doing the same thing?