What we say is as important as how we say it, and what we hear is most important of all.

I’ve spent a lot of time dissecting my self-talk. I think about how I speak to myself – what tone I use, whether or not I’m condemning myself, and whether I’m being kind, compassionate and loving, or mean, unforgiving and shaming. You’ve heard it said that you should talk to yourself the way you would talk to your friend, and if you wouldn’t say it to them – DON’T say it to yourself.

I’ve done pretty well with cleaning up my self-trash-talking (although I still beat myself up and take a little longer than I’d like to express forgiveness), but something happened this past weekend that really threw me for a loop.

WARNING: I’m going to say something that is significant and pertinent to MYSELF, so (as my trusted friend and business partner, Dr. Connie Stapleton always says…) “don’t hear what I’m NOT saying.”

With that said, here’s where my tale begins: While I was at the final Obesity Help event of the year (Thank you, Long Island) I found myself doing things that I don’t normally do. For starters, I went out to dinner. Twice. And, I ate something other than a salad. Now, you know my travails and you’ve heard all of my pouch woes, so my food choices are often less about tremendous “will-power” and more about what will actually “go down the gullet” (and stay there.) Typically speaking, there just isn’t a great deal out there that I can really “feast upon,” so I tend NOT to go there (if you know what I mean.)

As a result of wanting to be able to eat well when I travel, I pack (Read: schlep) tons of protein with me. I bring shakes, drinks, bars and soy chips. Yup. I’m a walking processed protein factory, but that’s only because it’s über hard to travel with lettuce, vegetables, cottage cheese, salsa, greek yogurt and feta cheese!

But, I digress.

As I said, this time, I did things I don’t normally do. I went out to eat, and I ate. I made healthy choices (sesame encrusted ahi tuna, antipasto and veggies). For the food, anyway. Here’s where things got squirrelly: I had a drink – no, not water. I had a crazy martini drink. I loved it and told myself that, since I never do it, it’s okay. I don’t have a problem with alcohol, and I always keep it in check, so…no biggie.

Except that, later in the evening, I had ANOTHER DRINK. Yes, Me.
Okay…I bowed to some “peer pressure” (which is no justification, but it makes a super great excuse.) Anyway, that was that and I collapsed into bed for the evening. No harm, no foul, though I was a little worse for the wear.

That might have been the end of it…had I not gone out to dinner. AGAIN. THIS TIME, I had TWO DRINKS. Yes, you read that correctly. I ordered two ridiculous drinks…and got loopy. I didn’t like the way I felt and I wished that I could undo what I’d done. But, I couldn’t. So, I was left with my poor choices…and my self-loathing.

It took me until the next morning to figure out the lesson in the behavior. You see, I try to live my life as a positive example for others – and that’s a lot of pressure. No, I don’t try to be perfect, but I do my best to model healthy behaviors that I believe in. I am honest about my shortcomings (hello, Oreos?) and don’t believe in being someone I’m not. I have values that I live by and respect.

So, what’s the deal here? On the face of it, I can tell myself that I’m ashamed that I did this in front of people who expected more of me (but, hat’s the easy thing to say). I can’t undo it, and I’m finding it really hard to forgive myself for my poor choice – though I know forgiveness will come.

Here is where the self-talk comes into play: For so long, I told myself that I wouldn’t drink any alcohol because I “don’t need it,” and because “I don’t feel it’s appropriate” for my healthy lifestyle. I mean, if I say no to sugar in my food, how can I say “okay” to sugar in booze? It’s dishonest.

In other words, I didn’t drink because I shouldn’t drink, which really translated into something that sounded more like, “I CAN’T DRINK.”

Hmmm…

• I am lying to myself when I say it’s “not that bad,” because…it really is that bad.
• I am lying to myself when I say, “I can do whatever I want,” because I know that just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.
• I am lying to myself when I say I can’t, because ultimately, I know that I can.

Chalk it up to personal accountability and taking responsibility for my body. But, make no mistake: Drinking is a choice. It’s not a “don’t” or “can’t.” And that’s where the whole self-talk thing really comes into play. For a long time, I told myself something I knew wasn’t true. Just like a child, I said, “don’t tell me I can’t, because I can.” This weekend, I paid a price, and my self-respect took a hit.

The good news is, it’s only a wasted experience if I DON’T learn anything from it – and I have. Hey, if I have to shovel this much horse-poo, there’d better be a pony under here somewhere, right?

Okay, I know what you’re saying: But, Cari, where is the bigger lesson in all of this???

Here it is: If I CAN drink, but CHOOSE not to, then the same must hold true for FOOD. I CAN eat Oreos, cheap carbs and unhealthy foods, but I must CHOOSE not to because, doing so will compromise my personal values.

Phew..that is some heavy stuff…and I won’t say I’m “there yet” (because I’m not) but I am closer than I’ve ever been  – AND I believe I’ve made a breakthrough. I’m on my way.

Here’s the take-away? I am (finally) learning to hear what I’m actually saying, and learning to say what I actually mean.

How do you talk to yourself and what do you hear yourself saying? Do you have a “sliding scale” of acceptable things you put in your mouth? Do you tell yourself, “Hey, I don’t eat this, so I should be able to have a little of that…?” I’d love to hear the conversations you have with yourself, so leave me a comment and let me know.

Here is a Little Life Lesson for Living a Happier Bariatric After Life™

I have always hated my legs; they just aren’t good looking.  Sadly, I was not one of those women whose legs stayed skinny and shapely while the rest of me got bigger. Okay, that’s not entirely true: I had an hourglass figure…but all the sand ran to the bottom.

Anyway, in this episode, I figured out that it’s not okay to decide that, just because *I* don’t like something, *no one* else can like it either. When you set up boundaries, and make rules about how someone can love you, the real loser is YOU.

When our daughter was young, we began to notice a pattern where she would completely ignore warnings that something was amiss, and then be utterly shocked when everything went wrong.

[Note: She will be positively mortified that I'm telling you this, but it's important, and SOMEONE has to learn from her mistakes. Remember, daughter, your mama loves you ]

Okay, anyway…That’s when I coined the phrase “THE PLANE IS CRASHING SYNDROME.” For example, she would not turn in her homework assignments. Ever. And then she’d be shocked by her low grade. Or, she’d mistreat a friend for a really long time, and then be surprised when that friend told her off.

Hannah would say, “I can’t believe how low my grade is! I really thought I was going to get a C or a B…” and the teacher’s comment on the report card would say, “missing homework assignments.”

So, we’d say, “Hannah, why didn’t you turn in your homework assignments?” She’d give all sorts of answers, like: “I forgot.” or “I thought I did.” or (my personal favorite): “I DID TURN THEM IN!” Uh-huh. Right. The teacher just lost them. ALL of them. Or, with the friend who suddenly decided she was finished with the abuse (typically, this would happen on a camping trip or at a birthday party — you know, someplace super-appropriate for a meltdown.) Hannah never ceased to be caught COMPLETELY OFF-GUARD (after all, the revelation had came out of NOWHERE!)

MexiKen and I caught onto the pattern pretty quickly and we began to have conversations that sounded like this:

Me: “Hannah. You aren’t turning in your homework assignments and your grade is going to b WAY lower than you expected.”

Hannah: “Mom, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered. It’s fine.” (Insert eye-rolling and exasperated sighs here.)

Me: “Hannah. It is NOT fine. You do NOT have it covered. THE PLANE IS CRASHING. The cockpit warn sirens are sounding, every light on the instrumentation panel is on, you are in a nosedive, there is smoke in the cabin, and the engine fell off the wing. THINGS ARE NOT FINE.”

Hannah: “Yes they are fine. Life is good. Stop worrying about stuff…”

And then…the plane would crash and Hannah would get a horrible grade and she would come to us (disconsolate as ever): “I cannot believe I got an F! How did this happen? I NEVER SAW IT COMING.“

On the inside, I was screaming:

“YES!YouDidSeeItComingBecauseITOLDYouItWasComing!

Okay, I can already hear you grousing and feeling sorry for my child. It’s true: I am not an easy parent, but either she’s an underachiever or I’m an overdemander….

Anyway, on the outside, the conversation sounded like this:

Me: “Hannah. The plane crashed. I warned you that it was crashing. I warned you to put out the fires and take it off autopilot. I told you to grab the stick and pull UP.”

Hannah: “Yeah…I know…”

And the next day, she would *forget* to turn her homework in, and her plane would be in a fresh new nosedive.

• She got a speeding ticket that she didn’t pay: “Hannah. You MUST go to traffic school for this or it will go to warrant.” (The plane is crashing .)
• She got several parking tickets at school that she didn’t pay: “Hannah, if you KNOW that there is no parking there, why do you keep parking there and when are you going to pay the tickets, because they DOUBLE if you don’t pay them right away?” (The plane is crashing).

Guess what? Her tickets doubled…and her ticket got her in A HEAP OF TROUBLE (and cost a fortune) and…well…THE PLANE CRASHED.
Guess what else? Hannah was COMPLETELY SHOCKED.

MexiKen and I are secretly hoping that this recent scare has at least caused her to consider evasive maneuvers when her plane is crashing…but we aren’t sure. Yet. Ahhh, a parent’s work is never done…

Okay, so Hannah aside, how does this relate to the Bariatric After Life™? (Long row to hoe, wouldn’t you agree??)

Well. that’s simple, really: THE PLANE IS CRASHING SYNDROME happens when you start to regain weight, but do nothing about it. You ignore it and hope it will go away. (The plane is crashing). You stay away from the scale because you don’t want to know what it says. (The plane is crashing). You can’t fit into your clothes anymore because they are now too tight. (The plane is crashing.) You stop working out and measuring your food. You stop journaling and getting support from others.

YOUR.
PLANE.
IS.
CRASHING.

And one day…you wake up (20? 30? 40? 50 pounds later…?) and exclaim: OH MY GOD! I AM FAT! I HAVE REGAINED MY WEIGHT! WHY DIDN’T I SEE THIS COMING?!”

And that, my friends, is The Plane is Crashing Syndrome — in action.

SO, here are my (loaded) questions of the day:

• Is your plane crashing?
• Are you ignoring ALL of the warning signs?
• Do you see smoke?
• Are the sirens blaring?
• Are you feeling sluggish and yucky?
• Do you feel out of control?
• Are you still on auto-pilot?

If the answer is “yes,” (to any of the above) – take evasive action NOW and do NOT attempt a water landing. We all know how those usually turn out, and it’s not pretty.

Grab hold of the stick and pull back with all your might. [Okay, okay, you pilots out there will tell me that if you are in a death dive, you're supposed to either let go of the stick, or push it far forward, or something like that, but just work with me here. It's my analogy, and I'm going to fly my plane the way *I* want to ]

Has your oxygen mask dropped from the ceiling? Put it on.
Are you using your seat cushion as a flotation device? Grab it and hold on for dear life.
Is your life vest on (but not inflated until you leave the plane)? Be prepared to yank on that cord if necessary. Locate your nearest emergency exit, then remember that your life vest is equipped with a lighted beacon so that if…heaven forbid — your plane does make an unplanned water landing, those of us in the bariatric community WILL be able to find you and help get you to dry land.

You will survive this. I promise. As long as you pay attention.

Is your Bariatric After Life on course or do you need a little intervention from air traffic control? Let me know…

I originally wrote this last June (for Gastric Bypass Barbie). Fortunately, I am not in “possession” of the extra 8-10 pounds I was lamenting about back then (at least not for now), but the message is still vital. I hope you enjoy this little Walk Down Memory Lane:

Fantasizing, Romanticizing & Giganticizing

Last night, I climbed into bed and my brain immediately switched into “overdrive.” Now, I realize that this is not a good place to be when I should be sleeping, but, next to the shower, it is where I do some of my very best thinking.

So, here’s where this posting all began: The word “romanticizing” popped into my head, because this is what I have been guilty of doing lately. You see, I have been wrestling with a few extra pounds (a reality which does not make me happy, but does give me something to work on!) Anyway, the more I thought about those pounds, the more i realized that there are a host of “IZING” words that could quickly consume and overwhelm my successful Bariatric After Life™– if I let them.

Let me explain:

As a pre- and early post-op, I would spend my days FANTASIZING about what I would look like when I lost the weight. I spent a bunch of time pouring over “Befores and Afters,” marveling at the monumental differences people experienced; wondering if I would ever reach that same goal, and if I did, what I would look like. Essentially, I was living in fantasyland every free moment I had.

Don’t get me wrong, fantasizing is not a bad thing, as long as it is based in some sort of reality, and involves a solid plan for achieving it. I think i was pretty realistic in my planning, because my original goal was very generous and, ultimately, more-than achievable.

Well, as a post-op, I blew past my original goal, to the tune of about 40 pounds, and found myself in a scrawny, skinny, meatless body with jutting bones, sunken eyes and cheeks. At the time, I KNEW that I was too thin and KNEW that my body would rebound to a healthier weight. But, somewhere inside, I was having this battle between what I KNEW was healthy, and what I actually LOOKED like.

As I remove my rose-tinted glasses and look back at myself with honest eyes, I can assure you that MexiKen did not love the way my little body looked — I had lost all of my curves, had no butt, and couldn’t fit grown-up people clothes. I looked silly in my baggy things and was constantly lamenting that I couldn’t wear some of the pretty clothes I was finding on the racks. Size 4′s weren’t just too big – they LITERALLY slid down to my ankles. It really was not pretty.

But, over time, I regained a little weight, those size 4′s began to fit properly, and I started “filling out.” Eventually, I settled in at a comfortable size 6 — a good place for my 5’8″ frame. I had a little butt and a few curves and no one complained that I was too skinny (or too fat). I looked healthy and felt great. Except that I kept going and overshot my “ideal” by about 8-10 pounds. Now, this is unacceptable, because I find myself outside of my new comfort zone, where things don’t quite fit as comfortably anymore.

It occurs to me, that what I have been doing is ROMANTICIZING my previous underweight status. I have been whispering sweet nothings into my brain, convincing myself that being a size 2 was wonderful, because nothing was ever tight or binding, and whatever I tried on always fit. Of course, I know this is NOT true, but this is how romanticizing works. You forget the realities, hardships, disappointments and struggles, and recast them as happy, glowing, glorious times.

Fortunately, I have not allowed myself to marinate in that kind of stinking thinking, because it is not only counterproductive — it is a LIE.

But, where do I go if I can’t romanticize or fantasize? Well, if you’re unhealthy, and fighting a few extra pounds, you can quickly begin to GIGANTICIZE. This is what happens when you start to tell yourself that you are a “big, fat loser.” You begin to exaggerate the reality of your body and what the scale is reporting, and start obsessing over weight regain. When giganticizing happens, you panic and your fat head runs the show. After all, you gained 5 or 10 pounds and now you are GIGANTIC.

Clearly, you can see the downside of this thinking, because it is neither productive nor empowering.

But, if you aren’t careful, giganticizing quickly turns to MINIMIZING. As in, “I *only* have 5 or 10 extra pounds. I’ve lost 150 or 160, and I’m fine with this weight regain. It’s not a big deal, and I’m sure I can lose it, if I want to.” In other words, you can quickly MINIMIZE the scope of the problem by using old criteria as your gage. “I used to weigh 316 pounds; I’m nowhere NEAR that now, so why is this a problem?”

Well, that brings me to the 4th “izing” word: RATIONALIZING. If you allow yourself to move into rationalizing, you are on a slippery slope to inevitable weight regain. Why? Because rationalizing goes hand-in-hand with apathy and denial. When you rationalize, you are actually telling yourself RATIONAL LIES.

So, what is the solution to this destructive “izing“?

Here are 5 little steps to replace BAD “izing” words with GOOD “izing” words!

Step 1: RECOGNIZE
Realize that you have a problem; that things aren’t going the way you want them to go, and you need to DO something before it is too late.

Step 2: VISUALIZE
Make some decisions about your recovery. What do you WANT the rest of your life to look like? What do you feel is a good and realistic weight for you to maintain? How will your body look and feel? Formulate that vision, then make that your goal.

STEP 3: LEGITIMIZE
Is your vision reasonable, achievable, and maintainable? Is it LEGITIMATE? If it is, then cement that vision in your mind; make it tangible, real and worthy and don’t let ANYONE or anything distract you from accomplishing it. Make it your driving force.

STEP 4: EMPHASIZE
Opposite of minimizing, in this step, you begin EMPHASIZING the legitimate vision you have created for yourself. You must make it a priority. Here, you are saying, “This is my goal and I will accept no less. All of my thoughts and actions must reinforce this vision to ensure it becomes and remains my reality.”

STEP 5: EXERCISE
No, I don’t just mean going to the gym or taking regular walks (although that is a part of it.) There’s more to this step than that. Here, you must EXERCISE good choices, healthy lifestyle habits, and positive thinking, in order to achieve and maintain your vision. This step is the most important of ALL of the steps, because it involves both mental AND physical exercise. It is a DOING word that involves meaningful and positive ACTIONS.

Do you find yourself “izing“? Perhaps you are guilty of Catastrophizing (a word I didn’t use above, but might be true?) — Perhaps you are blowing your situation so far out of proportion, you feel that you have no hope.

Well, there is ALWAYS HOPE — I know this, because I am a living, breathing, walking miracle, and people who are given the gift of a second chance at life have no right to be HOPELESS.

Here’s the bottom line: You can choose to FANTASIZE, ROMANTICIZE, GIGANTICIZE, MINIMIZE and RATIONALIZE until you find yourself regaining weight and losing control, OR, you can follow the 5 easy steps, and REGAIN CONTROL of your Bariatric After Life™.

Start MAXIMIZING your potential. Don’t MARGINALIZE your healthy life. Get started, get focused, and take charge of what matters most.

I know I DID.

For a long time, I thought my obesity was my own fault. I thought that it was a horrible character flaw that led me to make bad choice after bad choice and become “grotesquely” overweight. I wondered why I had no will-power, why I didn’t like broccoli, and why I hated working out. I looked around and saw ambitious, healthy people doing all of the things I knew I was *supposed* to want to do, but didn’t. And so, the condemnation continued.

It was my own damned fault that I was fat.

And then I had gastric bypass surgery, and I learned that my obesity was not entirely my *fault* at all. I learned that it was a biological, physiological, emotional and spiritual disorder, which meant that I was contributing to it, but not necessarily causing it; that many of the things I thought or did exacerbated the problem, but didn’t create it.

And so, I went about the business of changing my behaviors; doing things that a healthy person did; thinking the way a healthy person thinks. Or, at least, I THOUGHT I did. As it turns out, I was doing a lot of self-sabotage by refusing to acknowledge 2 simple facts:

1. I am a FOOD ADDICT
2. Addiction is a Disease

Now, I know a LOT of people who steadfastly disagree with that second statement. They disagree to the point of anger, resentment and even hatred. They say that anyone who can CHOOSE “not” to have something, can’t possibly have a disease, because, well…you can’t *decide* not to have cancer.

Here’s what I’ve got to say about that: I didn’t choose to be a food addict, anymore than a cancer victim chooses to have cancer. BUT, I did do things that contributed to the severity of the problem; I made choices that inflamed my condition. I did things to make my condition worse.

If I were to draw a parallel between cancer and food addiction, I would say that, by my thoughts and actions, I made my condition worse. I refused to admit I even HAD it, and then I refused “TREATMENT” (almost like a cancer sufferer refusing chemo or radiation.) I believed that I had caused my problem (much like a lung cancer victim could believe they deserved their disease because they smoked, or a liver cancer victim could believe they deserved it because they drank.) I’m not going to say that smoking and drinking are good ideas, or that they don’t CONTRIBUTE to the disease, but I believe we are either predisposed to cancer, or we aren’t; we are predisposed to obesity and food addiction, or we aren’t.

It is immaterial whether you agree with me or not that obesity and addiction are diseases, for I have chosen to treat both conditions for what they are, instead of believing the misinformed and beating myself up for being a bad person.

Perhaps that is why choosing to abstain from addictive behavior is called RECOVERY. Like a cancer survivor who is in REMISSION, I will never be cured of my disease. It could come back at any time, so I must be ever-vigilant. I don’t know when a trigger will pop-up, or someone will inadvertently do something to encourage a relapse, but I cannot live my life fearing that the addiction will return.

Today, I choose RECOVERY. I choose NOT to allow my disease to rule my life. I choose to live my Bariatric After Life™ to the fullest and embrace all that life has to offer. But, just as a cancer survivor might have to take medication or participate in therapy, so must I.

At the end of the day, I could lament the fact that I am an addict; that I will have to fight obesity for the rest of my life. I could complain and ask “WHY ME?” — OR, I can be thankful that there is a treatment for my condition. I can have gratitude for the gift of recovery, and I can rely upon God for His healing touch. After all, RECOVERY is not something you do alone. You need the support and guidance of others who have gone before, and the power of someone who is much greater than yourself.

Thank GOD I have both

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.

Inflatable Life Raft

The term life raft is used for vessels carried by ships and planes to allow passengers and crew to escape in an emergency. Inflatable life rafts, also called life boats are always equipped with auto-inflation carbon dioxide canisters or mechanical pumps. The pressure release mechanism is fitted on board ships so that the canister or pump automatically inflates the lifeboat, and the lifeboat breaks free of the sinking vessel. Inflatable life rafts are made from flexible material, usually rubber, canvas, or neoprene, and hold air at high volume but low pressure. However, if there isn’t enough air inside, inflatable boats are apt to fold in the middle. Thus, they need to be pumped up to the proper pressure using bellows.

I’ve gotta be honest with you — I’m doing all that I can not to crack under the holiday pressure. Last week, I promised myself that I would not get plugged into the stress of the season by obsessing over things I can’t control or shouldn’t worry about.

Right at the top of that mental list are the words, ‘HOLIDAY FOOD,’ followed by the phrase, “it’s not about the food, it’s about the people.” For as long as I can remember (pre-surgery, of course), the holidays meant things like fudge, brownies, chocolate chip cookies, magic cookie bars, homemade cranberry sauce, apple pie, See’s candy, stuffing and leftovers. The holidays were when clients sent me wonderful (edible) gifts and neighbors dropped off baskets of baked goods. Heck, the holidays were when I broke out the cubes of real butter and colossal bags of chocolate chips and got down to the business of “celebrating through baked goods.” But, all of that changed when I had gastric bypass surgery. That first Christmas, I sat in the recliner at my brother’s house and tried to nurse a pumpkin shake while everyone else gathered around the table to overindulge. Last year, I was just trying to survive a gall bladder attack, which again meant that food was way down the list of things to do.

This year, I’m healthy (but for the annoying stress fracture), which means that I get to enjoy the holidays as a normal person living a full and wildly successful bariatric after life. But, what exactly IS normal? Do normal people get stressed out during this time of year? (Yes). Do normal people worry about exercising during this time of year? (Yes). Do normal people worry about what they are going to eat? (Yes).

Gosh, normal doesn’t sound all that different from what I did for 40 years, it’s just that NOW, I’m doing “normal” in a 150-lb body.

Which brings me to the title of this posting:  INFLATABLE LIFE RAFT (What if I Explode?)

When I think of an inflatable life raft, I visualize one of those boats that pops open when it’s not supposed to. In the movies, life rafts always inflate inside a tight space, like a compact car, a closet, or somewhere there isn’t enough room for expansion.

Sort of like my size 6 pants.

This morning, I had this horrible visual — that I was one of those inflatable life rafts (contents under massive pressure) just waiting to explode — figuratively and literally! I’ve got all of this mental stress just percolating beneath the surface, which by extension, is translating to physical stress (mascarading as pounds). I am not doing anything especially different with my eating — EXCEPT that I fear I’m NOT getting enough protein in, I’ve run out of some of my critical vitamin supplements, and I can’t afford to replenish my usual “go-to” goodies, e.g., Revival Soy Chips and Whey Up! protein drinks. I’m mudding through and doing my best to make good choices, but the stress of it all is bearing down on me, manifesting itself as the “blahs.” As I wrote on another forum, I’ve got a terrible case of the “I don’t wannas.”

Not to say that this past weekend wasn’t amazingly productive, because it was! I finalized my Thanksgiving menu, prepared my extensive shopping list (in Excel, naturally), broke it out by store (and category, e.g., “Bakery,” “Deli,” “Dairy,” “Produce,” etc.), transcribed some recipes and posted on the fridge, organized my earrings (I know that sounds weird, but they were on top of my bureau in neat little piles and I just wanted to put them away so they wouldn’t be cluttering my room for Thanksgiving), did the laundry, cleaned out my car (just another niggling thing that had been clouding my mind and keeping me from doing other things), visited a friend in the hospital, worked out, went to church, AND, did my grocery shopping at FOUR STORES (Von’s, Trader Joe’s, Big Lots and WalMart). So, it was a big weekend and I felt pretty accomplished — ready to take on the short work week and prepare for “The Big Day.”

And then I woke up yesterday morning and here’s how I felt: I’m on a rollercoaster and just roared down that first big drop. Unfortunately, I am now stuck at the bottom and there’s no chain to drag me up to the top of the hill. So, there I am in my car (with my restraints securely fastened) and I’m not panicking. I can see the stairs which will lead me to safety, but I don’t wanna take ‘em. I just want to sit in my seat and wait for the ride to continue.

Well, when I woke up today, that whole inflatable raft thing happened. What if my inflatable life raft springs open while I’m sitting in my rollercoaster car at the bottom of the hill??? There will be no way out. (At least that’s what my brain is telling me.)

What exactly does that raft represent? Oh, that’s easy: My “before” life, obesity, fat. I’m wresting with the irrational fear that I will wake up one morning and be a size 28-30 again, all because of the holidays. The part of me that wants to move as fast as she can is paralyzed by an overwhelming lack of “oomph.” The “I don’t wannas” have moved in and there is no sign of “clearing” until tomorrow afternoon sometime (when I will leave work, return to my “civilian” life, and start chopping onions and celery for the stuffing.)

I guess the best thing I can do between now and then is:

1. Give a voice to the things that are concerning me. Make a list of all the things I believe I have to do, then prioritize, determine what will get done and what won’t, then LET GO of whatever doesn’t make the cut. I’ve been doing this mentally, but now I must do it physically. (Time for another Excel spreadsheet!)
2. Stop worrying about money. (LOL – as if!) This has been a constant source of stress since May, but we have survived to this point and will continue to do so — as long as I am mindful of the budget and don’t get caught up in what I believe I “should” be able to buy.
3. Workout daily to the best of my ability. Okay, my leg hurts and my feet feel like they have 10 pound bricks tied to each foot as I pedal the Life Cycle — so I’ll just do the best I can and stay active!
4. Realize that everything will work out just the way it is supposed to, and no one will be any the wiser. My 25 guests will not care that my bedroom carpet did not get steam-cleaned, or that I don’t have fancy centerpieces on each table. They will care that we took the time to cook and bring everyone together for a beautiful day. They will not be looking at the number on my scale!
5. Eat slowly, with purpose, and include sufficient protein. I will continue to say “No” to those stupid Boston Market “corn bread” muffins at the office (that are really nothing more than cakes, disguised as something sorta healthy, but laden with 35 grams of carbs and 25 grams of sugar!)
6. Live in the moment. If I do not have a ton of energy right now, that’s okay. I will work with what I have and know that I have an amazing husband upon whom I can rely. Together, we will pull this off (as we always do).
7. Realize that I get this stressed out every year, but just never had a blog to discuss it!
8. Exhale.
9. Acknowledge that I miss my dad and am a little uncertain about our first Thanksgiving without him.

At the end of the day, Thanksgiving will be here on Friday (that’s when we celebrate), the turkey will get cooked, the stuffing will be ready, the table will be laden with food, there will be lots of healthy food choices and sugar free desserts that I can eat, but more importantly, I will be surrounded by people I love, and great joy will abound — regardless of the plastic utensils and paper plates! And that inflatable life raft? I think I’m going to store that with my Earthquake Preparedness Kit in the motorhome.

OOOPS! One more thing I’ll need to work on. Someday.

Get ready to file this under: UNPOPULAR OPINION

In the Bariatric After Life, a lot of time is devoted to “why” we do or don’t do certain things. I’d argue that fighting the weight loss (and maintenance) battle is 5% physical and 95% mental.

How many times have you asked yourself:

“Why am I always hungry?”
“What can’t I stop eating that thing?”
“Why don’t I want to work out?”

The “whys” inevitably lead to the “hows…”

“How do I make myself do this thing?”
“How do I stop myself from eating that thing?”
“How do I get back to the gym?”

For me, there are two answers:

Why Ask Why?
Just Do It.

I know that might sound glib (and unpopular), but that’s what I keep coming back to as I strive to live a fulfilling ‘after life’. When I wake up in the morning, and say, “How am I going to get myself out of bed and stagger down to the Life Cycle?” (remember, I’m nursing a stress fracture…), the answer is always the same: “I’m just going to DO it.” And, for the past 4 days, I HAVE just done it.

When I find myself overwhelmed with the desire to buy air popped “light” popcorn at Trader Joe’s, and ask, “How am I going to get past this craving???” — Here’s what I do; I don’t buy it. Then, I can’t eat it. (I just DON’T do it.)

When I find myself wanting to graze at night, and I’m wringing my hands, asking, “How do I control this insatiable urge? Why does this always happen at night?” I just tell myself that I don’t need whatever it is I’m itching for and then, if I still want to graze, I go to bed. Of course, if there is a real reason for the hunger (e.g., hormones (LOL) or the fact that I didn’t eat enough protein in the day)…then I can satisfy the need.

Look, I’m not perfect, and it’s not simple, but really, why do we always try to make more of it than it is? It’s like asking why a criminal commits a heinous crime, and then explaining that he had a rotten childhood. It doesn’t change the fact that a crime has occurred. Now, I’m not juxtaposing crime with eating or not exercising — let’s not go there — I’m saying that, just because you know why a behavior or thought is motivated, doesn’t mean the behavior or thought has to be put into action.

In other words, I was restricted to what I could eat as a child because my brother is diabetic. Or, at least, that’s why I THOUGHT I was restricted; in reality, my mom was feeding us healthy food because it was the RIGHT thing do do. But I walked away with the WRONG message, so the seed was planted and I fertilized it for about 40 years until it became a big, fat overgrown morass. Some might argue that I over ate as an adult to compensate for for my perceived sleight as a child. But, in the end, who cares WHY I over ate? I just needed to STOP the behavior.

I guess what I’m feebly trying to say is, sometimes, we put all of our energy into trying to understand WHY we want to do something, and there’s nothing left to actually change the behavior. That is why I have channeled my focus into living by the two mantras that opened this post:

Why Ask Why?
Just DO It.

I don’t always succeed, but I can guarantee you: By following this sage advice, I succeed way more often, than when I agonize over the “whys” and ‘hows”…

What do you think?

Why Me?

I originally wrote this post in 2009, but I think it is still pretty relevant, so I’m sharing it for the a whole new year — Enjoy!

Many years ago, while I was working on my masters degree, a fellow student lent me an audio book on tape that she said had changed her life. It turned out to be Dr. Phil — whom I’d not heard about at that time, since he didn’t have his own program yet. I still remember the shock of hearing his voice for the first time. And that accent! I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tolerate his voice through an entire 4 CDs!

Fortunately, I stuck with it, and learned a powerful lesson that has become the very core of my successful weight loss journey.

Background
In 1996, The Texas Cattlemen Association (US Beef Producers) sued Oprah Winfrey claiming “fear mongering” over her comment that she wouldn’t eat hamburgers again because she was afraid of contracting Mad Cow disease. Her statement carried so much weight, that in one day, sales of hamburgers plummeted, severely impacting beef industry futures. The cattlemen sued Oprah for her comments and for one year, she and her staff were hounded and threatened by Beef Industry thugs. Now, this posting is NOT about the rightness or wrongness of Oprah’s statements or the behavior of the Texas Beef Producers — I have no, uh…cow in this fight. Stick with me here.

As Oprah’s court date approached, she rented a house (well, “compound”, really) in Texas to be nearer to the proceedings. She asked Dr. Phil to stay with her for the month leading up to the big event. As Dr. Phil tells it, Oprah was devastated at what she felt was undeserved harassment for her comments. She felt that she was entitled to her opinion and didn’t understand why she was being sued for something that should be protected under the First Amendment. More importantly, she was disconsolate over the fact that her PEOPLE were being threatened and harassed — something she could not abide. As she put it, the Cattlemen’s “Beef” was with HER — not her people — and she was beside herself with worry and grief over their unfair and unwarranted treatment.

As her day in court drew nearer, she had many sleepless nights. One particular morning (around 3AM), she padded down the hall in her robe and slippers and knocked on Dr. Phil’s door. She said, “Phil, I just can’t take this anymore. Why are they DOING this to me? Why are they scaring my people? They have nothing to do with it — I’m the one who said what I said — not them! They don’t deserve to be harassed. Why won’t they just leave everyone else alone? This is so unfair.”

And here’s the crux of the lesson. Dr. Phil responded quite simply that it didn’t matter WHY they were doing what they were doing, and it didn’t matter if she DESERVED it or not. What mattered most was what she was going to DO about it.

In other words, was she going to continue wringing her hands over the “WHY” of the situation, or was she going to put her energy into the “HOW” — as in “HOW was she going to WIN the battle?”

Let me tell you. that was a Helen Keller moment for me. I distinctly remember saying, “I get it. I totally get it.”

I’d essentially spent my entire life being Oprah and wondering WHY people did or said hurtful things to me, or why I was always a victim of unfair circumstances. What I DIDN’T do was figure out how to move beyond the situation and succeed DESPITE it.

Let me explain how this crippling behavior used to manifest itself in me:

Why can’t I eat what everybody else eats?
Why do I always have to be on a diet?
Why aren’t I more athletic?
Why do I have these fat genes?
Why does my metabolism suck so much?
Why do I have a thyroid problem?
Why do I hurt all the time?
Why do I have to count calories?

Here’s what I SHOULD have been telling myself:

“Why can’t I eat what everybody else eats?”
First of all, *everybody* doesn’t eat *everything* — everyone has to make their own choices, and *everyone* doesn’t eat an entire sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies in one sitting. Even if they did, they are not ME. I only have control over MY situation, so I need to decide whether eating 25 Thin Mint cookies at one time is going to help me get thin or not.

Why do I always have to be on a diet?
I wouldn’t have to be on a diet if I just watched what and how much I ate. This isn’t just happening to me, I’m a willing participant in this poor eating plan. However, even if no one else on the planet had to be on a diet, I do, so why fight it?

Why aren’t I more athletic?
I can’t waste time and energy wishing I were someone else. I am who I am, and that means I’ll probably never be the fastest or strongest athlete out there — unless that’s what I truly want to be. I have to learn to work within my physical limitations and just do the best I can. The goal is not to be THE best; it’s to be MY best.

Why do I have these fat genes?
We don’t choose our parents. We get what we get in the genetic lottery. It’s what we do with what we’re given that matters most. How can I use my genetics to my advantage?

Why does my metabolism suck so much?
I wasn’t born with a hyper-fast metabolism like some people. As a matter of fact, not EVERYONE has a metabolism like that. Most people have a “normal” metabolism, and it’s up them to know how to make it work for their bodies. Given my chemical make-up, what can I do to ensure my metabolism is working at its optimal efficiency?

Why do I have a thyroid problem?
Why is the grass green or the sky blue? Why do I have brown eyes instead of blue ones? Why do I have to dye my hair auburn to be a redhead? Who cares “why” something is a certain way — questioning its existence doesn’t treat the condition. I should be asking what I can do to bring the thyroid problem under control. Do I need medication, or is it controllable with food?

Why do I hurt all the time?
Am I working out, eating right, and taking my vitamins each day? Is my pain due to fibromyalgia? If so, have I eliminated yeast and sugar from my diet, or am I continuing to make poor food choices, which exacerbate my pain?

Why do I have to count calories?
Asking why I have to be accountable makes about as much sense as asking why I have to drive the speed limit or follow laws. Again, arguing the “why” of a situation doesn’t get me to the “how” — as in, “how can I win this battle?”

Which brings us back to Oprah: The moment she shifted her thinking from WHY and moved into HOW, was the moment she won the battle. She stopped asking why the suit was being brought against her, or why her people were being attacked, and sought about finding a winning strategy.

Ultimately, she did prevail in court, as I prevailed in my own battle with weight. (Actually, my weight battle is never “over” and I have to continue to wage war against it everyday, but you get the idea…)

The foundation for my success came from Dr. Phil and Oprah: I don’t question WHY I have to eat a certain way, or WHY I can’t eat and drink at the same time. I don’t ask WHY I had to have bariatric surgery to lose my weight, or WHY I have to workout every day. I don’t ask WHY I have loose skin, or WHY I will have to fight this battle everyday for the rest of my life.

“WHY” doesn’t solve the problem and it certainly doesn’t make the problem disappear.

“HOW” gives you power.
“HOW” helps you win the war.

“WHY” is not an action word.
“HOW” gets things done.

Are you are “WHYner” or a “HOW-TO-er”?

My new therapist, Jim, says I’m a “doer” — I guess that means I’m successfully ensconced in the “HOW-TO” camp.

Believe me when I say this: It doesn’t matter WHY I was born with the chemical make-up I have; It matters what I DO with it, and I’m DOING great things.

How about you?