I know what I weigh...

...because I asked. And the doctor told me.

It's not as much as I thought. In fact, it's a lot less. However, it's not necessarily a good thing to know.

The first thing my mind did was calculate: 1 more pound until...1.5 pounds until....5 pounds until...10 pounds until....

Then I stopped. Have I been okay with not knowing? I've wondered. But I've not gone to a store or hunted through the house to find the scales. My clothes fit ok. I feel healthy. I know that I am eating nutritious foods in appropriate amounts at appropriate times. So if I'm doing and knowing all that, not knowing my weight could be ok.

Today I saw myself in a new mirror. In a bathroom I'd not been in before. I've had this happen in the past where I catch myself in a different mirror and the change in the setting lets me SEE ME as I really am. Today, I looked pretty normal. I looked small. I looked ok. And that me so goddamn happy I had to tell everyone. An hour after the revelation, when I wasn't feeling so euphoric, I was thinking about how I was standing. I was considering how it felt to have my feet firmly planted on the ground. I was pondering what I must look like. Then the doubt crept in. But I also quickly realized there was NO WAY I could have changed that drastically in an hour. I had to look exactly the same way I did 60 minutes before. And since I was ok with that, I was ok with how I looked at that later second. I think I'm catching on.

Tonight with the trainer I could look in the mirror. I couldn't do that Monday. Tonight...I saw that same sassy girl from earlier in the day. I could really get used to seeing her on a more regular basis.

Whew!

I did it. I survived my first mid-week, non-holiday, non-program day. I started out at 6:30 by coloring with Connor as we watched Sponge Bob. After he and his mom left, I got ready for the day and headed to the house to inspect the new windows. I also put up the wooden blinds that had to come down for the installation. Then...over to work to drop off some things and to check on some benefit things. Left later than I anticipated. And then thought maybe I'd blow some time before my therapy appt. by looking at a new car. So I did. And I bought one. A 2008 Hyundai Sonata. All mine. Free and clear of a co-owner. One less thing out of the way.

But even better was my therapy apppointment. An enlightening hour wrapped up with guided meditation. A clear head. Insight into changes. New directions to consider.

All in all, a great day. Foodwise, too. No binging, purging or restricting. When I had ED thoughts, I actually recognized them, addressed them and moved on. I coped. Quite well, thank you.

Transitioning

No, not into a male. Or even anything else. Just transitioning out of treatment.

I don't have to report for duty tomorrow. Instead, I have to figure out what to do with all this free time NOT spent in my house, NOT eating, NOT drinking, just LIVING. That sounds scary.

And scared I am. I feel raw from all the emotion. I feel vulnerable. I lack confidence in and a proven track record of my new-found coping skills.

I'm starting to think about living a life I've never had before. Coping with an eating disorder. Being single. Staying sober. Being present in my reality and honest about my feelings. What's not to be scared of?

Something Different

New cut. New color. I'm calling it raspberry. It's pretty bright. The highlights are almost white. You can't see it in the picture, but the back fringe is very dark brown with white streaks.

Scaling the wall

It's been a month since I've seen my weight on a scale. Okay, kind of. I did peek at the hospital last week, but I don't know if what I saw was right or not.

Anyway.

I think I'm probably hanging around 163. I know I'm not really gaining or losing significant amounts because if I were, the doctor, nurse and nutritionist would be on me in a heartbeat.

Some days I want to go to Linens 'n' Things and step on a scale. But I don't. There was one at my sister-in-law's house on Thanksgiving. But it was late in the afternoon, I had eaten all day and I was fully clothed. Too much of a hassle.

Last night I dreamed I was at the hospital and they were trying to get me to change into a gown or some weird thing. I was freaking out and this nurse was running after me because I wanted to use a bathroom and they wouldn't let me. So as I ran down this hall, I saw a huge scale in an alcove. I jumped on it and the numbers zoomed up and down, up and down...just like they do on The Biggest Loser. And then the flippin' scale errored out. Just a flashing red light. The nurse said, OKAY, c'mon. And I stepped off...dejected...disappointed...resigned to doing whatever the hell it was they wanted to do to me.

My will to weigh is breaking down, I guess.

I still look in the mirror and have a hard time seeing me at this weight. I know I just bought new jeans...but I still wear all the other 14s and 16s. It's like a size 12 is too good to be true. My face still seems so full and puffy. My torso looks doughy. And don't even get me started on that apron of revolting skin.

There's this window to an office in the hospital. The room is always dark inside. So as I walk down the hall, it's like looking into a dark mirror. Not shiny silver, but certainly reflective. When I walk toward that window...that's when I see me. How I am now. The first time I caught my reflection in the window, I was a little freaked out. I looked small. And that was strange...like I was looking into a carnival funny mirror. But every time I walk past it, I see the same person. I just wonder when I'll see her in other mirrors.

SIZE 12

The tag doesn't lie. Yes, my friends, they are a SIZE 12 jeans...my first ever. Thank you very much.

How She Eats

Beth asked in her comment on the post below how I'm eating in in my program. Excellent question. Let me explain...

When I entered the inpatient program, the goal was to nourish my body, stabilize the effects of malnourishment and screwed up labs and get me to eat on a regular basis again.

My meal plan basically consists of 6 small meals a day...but much more balanced than what I was willing to eat as "just" a gastric bypass patient. Each meal is based on exchanges, very similar to what is recommended by the American Diabetic Association.

My total caloric intake at this point is supposed to be 1300-1400 calories, a reasonable amount for a woman of 40 years, measuring 5'6" and weighly somewhere in the 160s. When I started in the hospital, I think my intake was closer to about 1000 calories a day. But I don't count calories on the program.

Here's what my meal plan for a day looks like

Breakfast: 1 protein, 2 exchanges of my choice (grain, fruit, veg, milk), a fat if I want it.

Snack 1: 2 exchanges of my choice (somewhere like 130-190 calories total...I do have some specific snack choices.)

Lunch: 1 protein, 1 grain, 1 exchange of my choice, 1-2 fats

Snack 2: 2 exchanges of my choice

Dinner: 1 protein, 1 grain, 1 exchange of my choice, 1-2 fats

Snack 3: 2 exchanges of my choice

How does that translate into real eating? Like this (from last Tuesday):

Breakfast: scrambled egg, mini muffine & yogurt.
Snack: granola bar
Lunch: Black Bean Burger, carrots, apple, ranch dip
Snack: cheese stick and 3 packs of wheatworth crackers
Dinner: Salmon, wild rice, summer squash
Snack: apple

Just this Friday, I actually got permission from the nutritionist to add an extra snack in the afternoon, especially if my one snack is closer to 100 calories. Now that I am eating on a very regular basis, my body wants to be fed like every 2 to 2-1/2 hours. Sometimes the space between the afternoon snack and dinner can be as much as 4 hours. And then my body is screaming for energy.

The biggest change for me has been the addition of grains. Read: carbs. I've eaten some spaghetti, mashed potatoes and wild rice, as well as sliced bread from a loaf. All things that have been "fear" foods for me: eat them and instantly inflate to 317 pounds. But this program has helped me see that I can eat them and I can maintain a weight. And I'm actually enjoy the variety now.

My nutritionist is also very helpful in portion sizes. She understands that only so much can go in, so she doesn't expect me to eat a 6 oz. chicken breast, a baked potatoe and beans for dinner. But I do have to do at least 2 oz of protein for a serving...and my measurable carbs are usually about 1-4 to 1/2 in size.

I'm a stickler about eating on time, now that I'm firmly entrenched in my meal plan. I hate skipping snacks now. Mostly because I want to get 100% compliance on my meal plan...in case they give out gold stars to the best bulimic in the program. Ha!

I'm not always perfect, but I'm getting better at recognizing triggers and reacting appropriately. I haven't purged in nearly 4 weeks. My last binge eating was a week ago tonight. My last restricting day, including laxatives, was a week ago yesterday.

This is all good news. I can't expect to have every day of my life be perfect, but I can hold myself accountable for each meal. And some days, the only way I get through the ED thoughts is to take is all one meal by meal, one bite by bite.

Any other questions? Ask away!

How do you know you're hungry?

For some time now, I've been telling people that, because of my altered stomach, I don't feel hunger like most people. I said I don't get that empty pit feeling I used to. But now I'm rethinking that. Do I really just not allow myself to feel hunger? Do I dismiss the physical sensations that are there because I don't want to admit that I'm hungry?

Help me figure this out! If you have had RNY gastric bypass surgery, tell me how you know if you're hungry or need nourishment.

Post away!

What I did

Today at the hospital we headed out to the ropes challenge course. Let me tell you, I FREAK out everytime experiental therapy is on the schedule (which is every day) because it means doing something physical that scares the shit out of the fat kind inside of me.

But today, for the first time ever, I really felt none of the trepidation. I did an indoor challenge last week and worked through a lot of the angst. And yesterday we did a low ropes. So I'm feeling more agile. More confident.

So I just shimmied out that 50 foot pole, stepped out onto a swinging log hanging about 35 feet above the ground. And moved forward. Straight forward. Trusting that my support team would catch me if I fell. Certain I'd reach the other side, 30 long feet away.

It was surreal, occupying this space above ground but below the sky, able to see for quite a difference because we were on a hill. The wind cool against the unexpected warmth of the November sun.

I never for a second doubted that I could do it. So I did it.

I left the fat girl on the ground and for those 15 minutes in the air, I was the confident, capable woman I really want to be. I was me.

Insomnia

I didn't take a sleeping pill when I went to bed last night. And I should have. I fell asleep around 12 and woke up at 2. Awake since then. In 2-1/2 hours I can head to Starbucks for my morning ritual!

I had a pretty good day yesterday. I was 100% compliant with my meal plan--a huge success after a difficult weekend. This plan has me eating every few hours and I always feel full. Always. I've had to get used to eating some foods I had eliminated from my diet under the guise of being a WLS patient. I'mok with sliced bread now. Kind of. And potatoes...but not to much. Pasta is still kind of scary to me.

When I have an internet connection, I troll the internet looking for people who have had gastric bypass surgery and who now identify as suffering an eating disorder. Let me tell you...not many people are admitting to is. I find that utterly amazing. We were people who, most likely, ate compulsively. After surgery, since we couldn't do that, we had to adapt (if we hadn't dealt the the issues surrounding food already.) I know people talk about transference addictions to shopping and alcohol. But no one is really talking about one variety of ED morphing into another. I can't believe I'm the only one.

I wish I could find other bypass patients who now face familiar demons at work in a rewired body. I post on ED boards and get nothing. I post on OH and get nothing. Any one there reading this who's in the same predicament, please contact me. Maybe this will be the new mission of this blog.

The weekend

I'm staying at the house this weekend. I've been with a friend since leaving the hospital. But I've missed my home and the cats. I've missed the familiar.

It's just not that easy right now. A little over a week ago I ended my 13-year relationship. For good. I took a huge step in saying what I both needed and wanted. However, it meant not being in the house with her during recovery. And not being the house. Period.

We came up with an arrangement this week so that I can spend some evening in the house. While she's at a friend's home, I stay here. Nothing more decided beyond that. For now, I'll take my own bed and my own pillow and rambunctious kittens early in the morning.

Who knows how long it will last. At some point, we'll have to start dissolving the assets, juggling monies, struggling with who, what, when. But no whys. The whys are pretty clear to me: I need to be strong on my own. For me alone. No expectations. Happy.

I'm sad for the loss I've caused another person, grieving the end of a significant chapter in my life. But relieved, in a way, to be moving in a direction that feels unsure, uncertain. Simply because it's a direction of my own choosing.

Adjusting

Life as a patient in an eating disorders program: eating when you don't want to; eating what you don't want to; talking when you don't want to; acting when you don't want to; discovering what you really want, how to do it, validation.

For every thing I hate to have to do every day, I manage to learn something from it. Example: volleying a ball in a gym. Hate it. Memories of Fat Jen in 8th grade being the one to miss the important hit. FATSO. But...I'm not that person today. I'm Just Jen. Free(r) from baggage. Capable (though not always confident). Able to hit a ball...move quickly...laugh when I miss it. And not get laughed at in return. Able to talk about why a group of strangers hitting an oversized playground ball in the air scares me so much. This, THIS is progress for me.

Another lesson: eating won't make me fat. Eating three meals and three snacks a day in appropriate amounts and at appropriate times will not add pounds. Yesterday, I felt like I had gained about 10 pounds in the last 2 weeks. I was fatter. My clothes looked horrible. My pants were tight. My face was bloated. I hated my body. But the doctor told me that Iweighed exactly the same yesterday as I did when I checked into the hospital...even after eating all those meals and snacks full of foods that I hadn't chosen, foods that I fear, foods that really could make me fatter if I ate them other ways. I also learned that I have a distorted perception of my body. Really distorted. Given the facts, my clothes couldn't have been tighter,wouldn't have looked any different than they had days earlier and my body could not have occupied more space.

Whew. Big lessons. Little time. It's a whirlwind for me. I can hardly keep up with the discovery. And I feel like it's moving at such a frenetic pace that I might just miss something really important if I don't pay attention.

This reminds me of a poem from one of my favorite poets, William Stafford. I used to read it and pull from it the darker undertones. But now, it has a slightly different feel for me. Be vigilant. Be awake. I could do that. I really could.


A Ritual To Read To Each Other

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

We interrupt this programming to bring you a special message from Jen

I transitioned today from inpatient to the intensive partial-hospitalization program at Rogers Memorial Hospital.

I feel like my world is spinning, but in a good way. Like I actually jumped on and know which way it's turning. Still feeling a little like I don't have that tight of a grip and could fall off. But riding along as best I can.

Major, major changes in my life. I need to let them settle a bit before I can write here. But I've returned to my paper journals and am learning to slow my life down enough to actually write long hand, enjoying the sweep of my hand across the paper and the weight of the pen in the cradle of my thumb. This is good.

Thanks everyone for the wonderful, encouraging messages. When I logged on last night and read them, I just sobbed. You have no idea how much it all means to me...and how much I've really needed it.

No regular posts for a while. And when they return, the focus might be a bit different. But so am I. Already.