Surgeversary

Today is November 9, 2011.  I just realized that this is a very important date. One I almost overlooked due to current life matters of the heart. 

Today is my one year “surgeversary.”  Let me explain.  My whole life I have struggled with my weight. I was heavy for most of it and my weight fluctuated dramatically in my 20’s.  But last year I was ready to get off the gain/loss treadmill. I felt terrible, my hips, back and knees were killing me. I was out of breath with very little exertion and I was ashamed that my kids may be embarrassed of me.  

I weighed 262 lbs when they wheeled me to surgery. It took me about a year to jump through the hoops of the insurance companies’ obstacle course. I studied the program my clinic had in place for their bariatric surgery patients and finally November 9^th 2010, my surgery date arrived. 

Within this last year, I have followed their program to a “T” learned I love exercise, know what I can eat, and if I tempt fate, I clearly pay the price. It’s been a big learning curve, but one that has paid off for not only me, but for my children. 

As of today, I have lost 126 pounds, went from a size 24 to a size 8/9 and I still thank God daily for this opportunity he has given me.  This has been a second lease on life. Most that have gone through this program lose the weight and throw away their old lives. I have embraced my new life, and included the old with the new.  The fact that I have had to replace all my clothes is inconsequential to me. I have yet to buy a brand new outfit for myself, but have challenged to buy designer clothes at thrift stores, until this moment, no one has been none the wiser.   

I love that I can walk anywhere I want or bike there as well. As one year ago getting the paper from the mail box left me breathless and walking a few city blocks brought me to tears with hip pain.  Today I will run or walk at least 3 miles almost every day either via pavement or treadmill, and it makes me feel good to do it! Who would have every thought I could do such a thing! 

Daily I make sure I keep myself humble, but there are days that I dabble in a little pride for what I have accomplished for myself and mostly for my kids.  But I know who I am. I will still always be the funny fat girl on the inside. 

I just wanted to share this day with all of you as most have been here to support and encourage me along this journey.  

I want to thank you all for being there for me. 

Peace to you all, 

Mary

Take a Look Back

Recently I have said, “You have to take a look back at where you have been, to figure out where you are going.” I must say this is a motto I have lately had to live by.

As many of you know, in the past year I have lost over 125lbs.  Many people who lose this much weight go crazy and love to show off their new bodies and dump their old lives, but I am not one of those people. This weight loss has left me trying to figure out who I am.  You see my weight or over weight was a guard for me. It protected me from things I wouldn’t otherwise have to face.  What I didn’t realize is that not facing things, or keeping people at arm’s length or just downright pushing them out of my life and blaming my weight or their perceived  prejudice of me due to my weight has been quite hurtful to myself and others.

I have accomplished many things in the past 5 years, many of them I never thought I would ever accomplish, and if 5 years ago if someone would have told me this would be the hardest, trying find out who I am at a normal weight, I would have told them they were more neurotic and crazy than I am.

I am pretty much the same person on the inside, and why I think people will only judge me by that now that I am “normal” size has been about as rational as me expecting them to judge me by who I am on the inside when I was obese.  I am learning, the hard way, it just isn’t that easy.

I have hurt people by my shield of chubby, blaming all my problems and down falls on my weight.  Now that my armor is gone, I have to face the fact that some of my issues were clearly my own.

I am more self conscious now of my weight than I was when I was heavy.  It has caused me quite a bit of stress. My doctor says “face your fears head on” and to do some soul searching.  I am now looking back from where I came, so I can hopefully find a clearer path on where to go.  I hope this time I do not hurt anyone on the journey.

I am trying hard to force myself out into social situations, which is not easy as I have spent the better part of the past decade avoiding them.  I am re-visiting old relationships, hopefully making amends where they need to be mended and becoming close again to friends, old co-workers and other relationships I have kept at arm’s length.  I am facing my fears head on, as my doctor has prescribed along with a month’s worth of anti-anxiety meds and I beginning to see he is right. I need to get my head around this better and I need to re-visit my past.  See where I came from and try to get a clear picture as to where I am going.

I have recently started dating.  The first time really as a ‘normal’ size person, and no matter how much I try to explain to my new beau what I have been through or where I am going or want to go, I am just not sure he is grasping it.  He is a pillar of practicality. I like that about him. However, I wish I felt like he had more of an ear for me to borrow than just a shoulder to lean on.  But maybe again, it may be my own insecurities piping in again. I don’t know.  Maybe it’s just the ungraspable romanticism of a neurotic writer.

What I do know is these past few weeks; I am starting feel a corner turning.  I hope I am finally on the right path and I hope soon, I start to feel less self conscious and more accepting of everything I have been blessed with as of late.  I hope the fences I am mending stay fixed, and I also hope those who I have pushed away or kept at bay will understand my struggles and let me pull them in close again, as miss having them all near me.

Right now I feel grateful for having people so kind in my life and those who truly know and love me will be there for me when it all shakes itself out.  I hope everyone will be patient with me, especially my new beau, as I am a work in progress.

Peace to you all.

Mary

Adequate

Well, another one bites the dust.  I will call this one, “Mr. Adequate” as this is how he described me.  Yes, I know, maybe I should have called him “Mr. Romance” as I couldn’t remember ever being so swept off my feet.

It’s my own fault though. I once again saw all the red flags and chose to ignore them. He was still emotionally distraught over his divorce last year, even though I asked time and time again if he was ready and willing to be emotionally available to a serious relationship.  He answered as he should, but I didn’t feel it. But I took him on his word.

Only a couple weeks in I knew he wasn’t all that into me, even telling him we should part ways, he claimed he was into me, called me “cute” which every 45 year old woman is dying to hear.  Not “sexy” or “beautiful,” but “cute”, yeah, he didn’t sound all that into me, and yet I ignored it again.

He said all the things he was suppose to about being together in the future, cohabitating, blending our things, talking about being together for a very long time. But there was not talk about how he felt about me emotionally, except that he really “liked” me.  Yeah, great old chum, I can cohabitate with a roommate too, who probably would also really “like” me.  Not “love”, no “I am falling for you’s” nothing.

He kept telling me what a great guy he was, but when we went out he stared and flirted with pretty much every woman in the bar, bought them drinks and completely ignored me. Well, until he realized that men were starting to give me attention, since they assumed I wasn’t there with anyone. Just when I didn’t think I could feel any worse about myself.  Nothing like your boyfriend treating you like he pretty much wants to be with anyone BUT you.

Then this weekend he told me my body was “adequate” I am currently so self conscious about how I am perceived body wise I have been prescribed anti-anxiety meds, and he decides to tell me my body is adequate.  Wow. I was hurt and made to feel ugly, fat, and deformed. I don’t really need anyone making me feel worse about myself, I already do a pretty good job of that myself.

I couldn’t even bring myself to talk to him for a couple days and when I finally returned a text asking him for a coat back, it went unanswered for hours.  I text him a second time telling him to keep the coat. Then, of course he took the opportunity to text me back telling me “ok” (as in he was ok keeping my coat).  That’s when I realized…great guy? What?

Once again, I cared for and fell for someone who could care less about me and had no feelings for me.  He wanted to go to the renaissance, I bought tickets, and they went unused.  I didn’t like that he was driving around without a cell phone and that he could communicate more with his son if he had one, then after he had a car accident, I was so worried I added him to my plan.  I cared and worried about him. I wanted the best for him, and again in return I was treated poorly. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.

But it’s my own fault. It really is, I mean seriously, what was I thinking? The man never even took me out on a single date.  Not one. Ever.

I have done so much to make my life better. I have reached every goal set for myself. Bought a home on my own, no help from anyone. I finally, after struggling my whole life with my weight am down to a normal size.  I have a decent job, a nice car, and two boys I am raising solely on my own and I still have a little left over to give.

Who knew the hardest part was going to be finding someone to share it all with.  Someone I will not only love, appreciate and care for, but someone who can, and is capable to love, appreciate and care for me in return.  I guess I have to stop forgetting about the “getting it in return” part.

With a dented heart, peace to you all.

Mary

A Bad Shelly Day

Yesterday as I was driving home from work, I was going through my head and jotting down a list of things I would need for a brunch I am planning for my hometown crew on October 9^th.  I have decided to go with a fall themed brunch. Chicken wild rice soup, sausages grilled and then left to warm in the crock pot with homemade sauerkraut. Apple crisp with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert.  My guests will be asked to bring a side to share or chips, something to drink etc.

I go to pick up the phone to make sure my friend Shelly can make sure she has her two Jeff’s on board for the 9^th, to have Mr. Topic either bring a pie or wine and to order the tastefully simple soup from her. I find her name in my directory and start to dial, when suddenly a jolt of pain to my heart stops me in my tracks.  She isn’t there.  She hasn’t been then since December 29^th.  She has moved on in death. The rest of us, well, we have not.

All I could do is what I do best. Cry buckets. The world around all of us has moved on and I have less of an understanding than the day she left us. The night before I was shopping with her daughter, the whole time talking with her on the phone until I dropped her daughter home at 10:30 pm, at about 7 am the next morning… I was told she was gone.

Yesterday (and lingering into today) was one of those days that I just can’t get past it. Our culture tells us to pull up our boot straps and move forward. But how do you move forward when a person who is 5 years younger than you, and a part of your everyday life, like air, is gone.  How do you just stop picking up to call or add them to an email when they were someone you talked to every day?

I was crying when I picked my youngest up from daycare yesterday. He wanted to know what was wrong, and he knows, as I turned to him and just said, “I am having a bad Shelly day.”  He misses her too.  Our group isn’t the same. We had movie and dinner nights or a brunch about every month. That is why I am planning this one. We are trying to find our way without her, and trying to kick start our old way of life.

Right now…I think we are failing miserably.  I know it will get better, but for now, I am going to allow myself to recognize and mourn the loss of my friend, because I miss her terribly.  I so wish she was still here with me.

Peace to you all.

Mary

To Love and Be Loved.

I have a real problem. I fall in love easily. I know, not a bad problem, I mean I could most certainly have worse self destructive tendencies.  But this is self destructive, as it has been pointed out, none the less. You see I care for people. I know, not a bad quality, as I think this quality makes me a good parent and friend. But, as it pertains to romantic love, it’s not always so great.

Let me explain, it is easy to love and care for another person. The hard part is feeling or having the love and caring returned. There in itself lies my problem.  This has got me into a few pickles in this lifetime. You see, I end up loving and caring for others so much, I don’t even notice I am not being loved or cared for in return. Before I blamed “fat girl syndrome” for this, because hey, as a fatty, you get what you get. But what’s my excuse now?  Apparently, I don’t have one. But it seems I am continuing down the same path. The only difference is I feel like I really want to be loved and cared for in return. The strange thing is, I feel guilty about that, odd right?

I mean, I want to be loved and cared for, that’s ok, right? So, why is it that I always love and care for others, listen and help, and not until it is too late or too far gone do I realize I am not being loved or cared for in return. I know part of it is caring for others really does make me feel good. I love being a mom and a sister and a friend. It gives me purpose. Empty nest syndrome makes me anxious and making sure I at least have pets to care for in the near future is almost inevitable. I like to feel needed, it makes me feel complete.

But, I think I am almost clueless as to what it is like to be loved or even cared for in return. I think I had it once. Being a very independent woman it was foreign to me to have someone come into my life and occasionally take the reins. This person took care of me, and the kids, without asking really, and asked nothing in return of me, even though again, I loved whole heartedly. I didn’t ask for help, it was just given to me. It was a foreign feeling and most times I fought it.  It was great to feel loved and cared for, until I realized the whole relationship was a charade, and I again, was the fool for love.

And now again, I have wondered down my road of self destructive behaviors and have again fallen for a man who does not love me in return. But unfortunately, I now care for him deeply. Even before we started dating exclusively, I questioned him carefully beforehand,  if he was ready for a relationship. What I am finding out is that although he may want to be ready for a relationship (after divorce) I am feeling he is not.

This whole thing has added more anxiety, to my already anxious world, as this whole weight loss thing has been a bit of a mind f**k in itself. Thankfully, the docs prepare you for this well before your surgery but you don’t fully grasp it until after the pounds come off. I spoke to my assigned shrink last week, I have a follow up this week with my family doc who I trust better than the latter.  My shrink doesn’t think I should be dating at all until I get my head around some of my body/mind issues a little better, yeah, things that would have been good to know a few months ago. Thanks doc.

Let me cover those anxieties briefly. One, as a fat girl, I no longer had to deal with men because let’s face it; they weren’t really part of the equation at 262 pounds. I also hated being fat and being stared at as the token fat chick, or the fat mom of the group. Somehow I thought these issues would just go away once I lost the weight. What I didn’t plan for was the attention I am getting now that I have lost the weight. I have never wanted to be the center of attention ever. Maybe in small groups with my closest friends and confidants, as I have always enjoyed making people laugh. However, that has usually been at my own expense as well, as I had thousands of fat girl jokes I could tell at my own expense and all was well.

Now almost daily I have men who will start getting chatty with me and I have no skills to even begin to handle that, nor have I ever felt like the kind of girl men would want to get chatty with.  Thankfully, I do have a boyfriend and he comes up awkwardly in the conversation and this generally works as a pretty good deterrent.  But at that point I already feel my heart pounding and my head getting light. I have no skills to deal with this type of interaction or attention. And when men are not put off by the fact that I have a boyfriend, shear panic and fear almost always ensues. Yeah, it’s not good. Then there are all the people, ex-coworkers, and friends who haven’t seen me in awhile. They stare at me (i.e. my new body) and the panic starts all over again.  Seriously, think about it. If the biggest fear you have is being judged by the appearance of your body and then, in public forum, it is brought to highlighted attention, that is pretty much my worst nightmare played over and over again.  Again, sheer panic.

Then of course, being my own worst critic. I hate myself for what I have done to my body. I hate that I ever allowed myself to get to that weight and now after losing the weight, let’s just say, things just don’t look the way they should. Every day I have to live with the fact that I have scarred myself beyond recognition every time I change my clothes. I hate myself for that, and forgiveness does not seem eminent any time soon. Not to mention the boyfriend deserves better than that. No wonder he is not in love with me, especially, If I cannot even stand the sight of my own reflection.

Anyway, no concern, I will be meeting with my trusted family physician on Tuesday and hopefully he will have talked to the shrink by then and I am sure between the two will figure out a way to medicate me properly and push me off to a ex-fatty’s support group of sorts. Not that I am against it, as I am not, but trying to juggle the kids to make it to them will only cause me more anxiety.

Anyway, it feels incredibly great to get this all off my chest. I have been writing for a good portion of the day, here and working on the book, so the literary therapy is working as well.

Peace to you all.

Mary

Literary Tattoo

I was reading a girls blog about how she wants to physically get a tattoo with some sort of literary reference.  This made me think of my best friend Alayne.

She has been a friend, confidant, and partner in crime since about 1984. Although we are about as different as two people can be we have been thick as thieves for more than two decades.

I, compared to her, am a pretty plain person. I try to blend in, stay under the radar, I follow with what society expects of me. I hate being judged to a point where at times I wouldn’t leave the house unless completely comfortable with the way I looked or felt.  I like to wear cute chinos and square collared shirts and cute girlie shoes to match, if its cable knit or argyle it is in my closet.  Alayne had always been more cutting edge than me. She is a damn good hair stylist and many judge her to be years younger than she is.  I even saw her one day rollerblading through town with a roller girl outfit on.  Short red shorts with white trim, tall knee socks and a headband. She feels like roller girl, she will dress like roller girl. She just puts it out there and who cares who sees.  She is a free spirit.  She was the Joan Jett to my Debbie Gibson, and we always described ourselves as Eddie Bauer meets generation X.  That is my Alayne.

One big difference, and also the cause of some strain between us through the years, has been her tattoos.  I love Alayne I really do, but she loves her tattoos.  Now I am not claiming to be ink free, as I do have a small tattoo on my ankle, which I have had several treatments to remove (almost gone) and one very small tattoo on my backside that I do not care to discuss, as no one ever sees it.  Well… almost never. I digress.

Now, I don’t hate her ink or tattoo’s or maybe I do, I don’t know. But my big problem is I hate people judging her. I hate that people will think that she is some hard core tatted bitch, which she is quite the contrary.  I guess I never asked her why she gets them; I just assumed she liked getting them, although most didn’t seem to have much of a deep seeded meaning. I think I may have been wrong.

But then I realized maybe she is just expressing who she is.  She wants it out there, for everyone to see who she is, what she likes, what her interest are, how she is feeling about life, or love, or health or everything.

It occurred to me, isn’t this what I do when I write? I put my words, my feelings my emotions, my likes, my dislikes, my opinions, my thoughts and dreams all down in written prose.  Some for show, some hidden never to be seen or read, I post by blog and send it out into cyber space, I publish an article and it is pitched on to the pages of the world wide web.  All to be anonymously read by God only knows, out there permanently for everyone to see, a literary tattoo of sorts.

I realized in comparison to Alayne, who has her being and existence inked upon her skin, for all to see, with her on the ready at all times, my literary expression comparatively could be considered nothing but an act of cowardice.  She is out there, who she is, for the entire world to see.  Judge not, lest ye be judged.

Between the two of us, she has always been the brave one, trying new things, taking risks, and dusting herself off and getting back up from the fight when necessary. Hands down she is probably one of the coolest chicks, and characteristically best human beings I have been blessed to know.  I always fancied I could be more like her. I wish I could cast myself out there more, be less self conscious and care less about what people think. It’s probably why I love her so.

When I see her this weekend, I am going to try not to hyperventilate, or stick my head between my legs to catch my breath when I see the outline for her new half sleeve tattoo. I will not judge her.  I will try not to get anxious at the thought of others judging such a great human being.  But she is who she is and if she would change I probably wouldn’t be so fond of her.

Peace to you all.

Mary

Squish Squish Squish

So I am heading down to the basement to febreeze the air filter in my furnace and about two steps on to the basement living room carpet….squish squish squish.  What in the h*ll? Water. Bugger.

As all of you know, I have no mechanical ability what so ever, and being on my own, with a limited budget, this wasn’t exactly good news. Wet carpet meant water coming from god only knows where. First thing, find the source. Still a bit of a mystery.  Could be the A/C / Furnace. It is wet underneath and around it. But alas, the water heater sits right next to it. However the water from that is minimal.  I am hoping it is a loose hose from the A/C. God, who knows.

I spent the evening sucking up water with my shop vac. I have two.  However after my son exhausted about 20 minutes with the small one, we realized it wasn’t helping a bit.  I am now getting contrasting evaluations of what is going to have to be done with the carpet. The pad will need to be replaced, the carpet will need to be replaced, it only needs to be vacuumed and dried. Good god, what the hell do I do here?

My oldest son is as frustrated as I am and my youngest, bless his heart, keeps giving me love to keep me going. I know I am not going to get any sleep tonight or tomorrow until I get this somewhat resolved. What can I say I am a constant worrier.

Good thing I planted that money tree in the back yard.  Oh wait……

Peace to you all.

Mary

 

 

Infamous

I was listening to a celebrity “news” program while doing some domestic chores in my kitchen when I hear a name, and then a laundry list of cosmetic surgery procedures that will possibly be performed on the quick mentioned demy-celebrity.  As the list grew, my interest peaked and I stopped my chores and headed to the next room and stood in front of my television, to see if I could catch the name of said celebrity.  I saw the picture of the “celebrity” on the screen and continued to listen to the medical banter, and I tried to place the face and wondered what movie or T.V. show I had seen this person in, or why this woman would want to go through all that cosmetic surgery.

Then it hit me, this wasn’t a celebrity, but none other than the infamous Casey Anthony.  Yes, the mother who “allegedly” killed her own child to free herself from the burdens of motherhood and lied to pretty much everyone who would ever give her a moment of their time.

My mouth dropped open and I even had to check if this was actually a celebrity news program, and it was.  Since when does infamy equal celebrity?  How does this become a lifestyle or career path?  How could this show give this woman even 30 seconds of its precious programming time, none the less a whole segment about how she wants to change her look so she won’t be noticed or harassed  so she can set off in life incognito.

My guess is, unfortunately, shows like this will offer her free cosmetic surgery in exchange for the surgery to be filmed, i.e. her own slice of reality televisions pie, on the promise that she will then be able to live a reclusive, ascetic  life, although, we all know this isn’t what she really wants at all.   She will more than likely become more famous, or should I say infamous than O.J. Simpson himself.  Once she gets a taste of her, maliciously earned, celebrity she will only want for more.

I am sure she will continue to maintain her innocence with the sparkle, her daughter once had in her eye, occasionally breaking down to cry, but only when the cameras are rolling, and play on the emotions of the bemused and ignorant, making as much money as she can off the death of her own child.

When her spotlight fades she will jump for any scrap of celebrity she can grab.  Maybe Nadya Suleman, the Octo-Mom, can take her in, hire her as a Nanny for her own children.  Hey Ryan Seacreast are you listening? I smell reality TV here!  Then each week viewers can vote a child off the show, or vote on where the child disappeared to, or vote on what lie Casey will tell regarding the aforementioned missing child.  Wait, I better not give Hollywood any ideas.

Have we all forgotten a beautiful young child has perished, more than likely, at the hands of her own mother?  Now it seems that this story somehow crossed over from news, to entertainment. When and where did this macabre line become originally cast, and now more than ever, why is it so readily crossed?

I suppose we will never know. As long as there is morbid fascination for these stories and people so willingly to offer the infamous money, they will continue. We can only hope, morality will dictate society’s actions and there will be no copy cats in a sad grasp for fame.

Peace to you all.

Mary

Little Coffee Shop on the Corner

Tonight I am enjoying my Friday night with my youngest son, Jack.  The oldest is working on the exact opposite end of town at the local sports restaurant/bar.

Tonight Jack and I are hanging at my local coffee shop on the corner. It’s a quaint little place that back in the 20’s and 30’s was a small 3 lane bowling alley, the lanes still in place on the floor and exposed bricks and beams throughout.  They have minimally updated the interior with new bathrooms, and kitchen area.

The coffee shop is a local favorite.  Tonight is their 2 year anniversary. I started coming here shortly after they opened.  I have lived in this town for a year and a half, but spent many evening here months before searching the little town for a perfect house for the boys and myself.

Tonight with my iced coffee and Jacks ice cream cone, we are also enjoying live music and the smell of the BBQ grills burning outside on the front sidewalk. It’s a real small town celebration, simple, yet quite joyous.

This place has brought me comfort and some light solace from the turbulence in my life these past months. It’s nice to know I can sit down with my computer, spill my life onto these pages with friendly faces and good conversation around me.

Tonight, life is pretty good.

Peace to you all.

Mary

Jack

Looks Good on Paper

I had a friend whom I haven’t spoken to for awhile tell me they are glad that I am Happy.  I wish I was happy. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not wreathing in a depressed mode or anything like that, but right now, I am not happy.

Right now I look like I SHOULD be happy. I look good on paper. You know when externally everything looks great. I purchased a 4 bedroom home all on my own, no help from family, just me. It sits on a 3/4 acre lot with a private back yard and quaint little patio area. I have a good job, my kids wear nice clothes and are good kids and drive a nice car. I’ve even lost a 100 lbs and should be thrilled, but I am not.

All should be good, great and I should be happy. But for right now, I am not. I had way too many close friends pass away this past year, and I don’t have them, especially my friend Shelly to share any of it with.  My kids fathers are both being a royal pain in the ass, and either not fulfilling their obligations or not being good role models. That really sucks for my boys.

I am completely complacent, not sad, not happy, just treading water, waiting for my happy to return. My kids approached me and told me I should start dating again. I am trying, reluctantly, but you only get out of that the effort you put into it, so I know I will be hard pressed to find someone when right now, my heart isn’t in it much. Maybe when I find the right one.  Who knows.

I have been spending quite a bit of time with my sisters lately, and I always feel better after being around them. I am going to spend Saturday with them as well. Hopefully it will do me some good.  It’s been nice that my siblings have all started really talking again, we had lived our lives so separately for some time.  Then this spring my brother was almost killed in a motorcycle accident (see told you it was a bad year) and my sister had to come rushing to my side when I required an emergency surgery and suddenly, I and my sibs realize we may not be here forever. I know I realized how much I had been missing them. Even if they do still make me nuts occasionally.

Anyway, that is it for now.

Peace to you all.

Mary