Body Cues

All this time on my hands and nothing to do but pay attention to my body. To the weird gurgles. The jabs. The twinges. The buzzes. The sudden flinch in my gut, the tightening band on my head.

I've never really paid much attention to physical cues. Deny the body, deny the self. Now that I'm actually living in this body, it seems to be talking to me. I just don't really understand what it's saying.

Pain? Pleasure? Peace? Is that hunger or hurt? Craving or cramping? Is it my pouch stomach or my big stomach? Intestines or other internal organ? I deadened myself to physical sensations to also avoid the emotional ones. Now that I'm in a clear place where I could ascertain one from the other, I am having a hard time doing so. Maybe I can't tell the differences. Maybe I don't want to.

Understanding why I feel physical sensation would also mean I understand the physical effects of the emotional ones. And maybe that's too much self-awareness this early in the game.

Do I want to know whether my midriff aches because of a gas or because of bottled up emotional crap? Am I suffering from insomnia because I can't sleep or because I don't want to sleep? Does my head hurt because of a clot ready to blow or because my memories are?

I've been trying to listen to my body for hunger signals. I could be listening for the wrong sounds.

Now what?

I feel like it's mid-afternoon on Christmas Day. Gifts opened. Instructions read. Everything assembled. I got everything I wanted and more. Now what?

There's been so much anticipation around my discharge from treatment, so much wonder about what it would be like, so much worry about coping, planning, eating. Blah, blah, blah. And here I sit, knee deep in the day two, and--all things considered--doing quite well.

I wish I knew how I was doing it. I think it's constant reflection, redirection. Repeating over and over: THIS IS MY LIFE.

Seriously. What did I expect? Well. Anxiety. Fear. Happiness. Sadness. I guess that's what I've got. This is how one might feel when one experiences change. And I am managing change right now better than I have in the past two years. Sure, not perfectly. But I'm figuring out ways to manage minute by minute.

I just need to shake the feeling that I need to DO something. What do I do next? When can I get started? SLOW DOWN. Hang out in the present. Enjoy it for the freedom it offers. Be happy...it's Just Jen. And that's who I've been waiting for.

For Nancy

Deep roots brace against
ravages of others’ storms.
Patient, she will wait.

Words

If I could, I would
not do it another way:
this is who I am.

The day before "The Last Day"

I'm off program today. Tomorrow I return for the final day.

I went inpatient at Rogers on January 14. I started the partial hospitalization on January 21. That's 10 weeks.

Transitions are difficult for me. They are opportune times for all my coping skills to suddenly disappear and for the ED to rear it's head. This is no different...but totally different.

Yesterday after I left RMH, I really struggled with ED behaviors. REALLY struggled. It's like the flippin' ED just HAD to prove that it was still there and that it could still hijack me if it wanted. But I survived. I pulled through it. I'd like to say I stopped it in its tracks, but I didn't. I at least had the foresight to put a penny on the tracks and derail it.

So today. Taking care of things around the house. A return visit to my personal trainer. Coffee this evening with a new friend. Little things to pull me through the day.

As I look forward to at least two weeks of free time, I know that I must have small daily tasks or goals to help me through. I have a bajillion appointments during this time. Lots of loose ends to attend to. And one of these days, I suppose I should start to take a serious look at my medical bills. (Don't be surprised if a paypal button appears on the side!)

I'm going to be ok. I am a capable, confident woman who chooses to accept responsibility for recovery, bumps and all. This is my life. This is me. I'm going to be ok.

Let's start talking

Look up at the top...I formed a Google Group to discuss WLS and EDs.

I find a great need for open discussion on this topic and it seems to me it's anathema on most other boards.

Refer your friends. Sign up. We'll see how it goes. I'm still tinkering with it all. Be patient.

Am I crossing the line?

I've received a lot of requests lately from people who read posts of mine on this blog or other websites. They ask my opinions on weight loss surgery, eating disorders, should they have it, do they have it, etc.

I wish I could be more effective in reaching out to those folks. I often write back and then fear that I sound too harsh, too fanatical, too rigid in my own thinking. I try to write from my personal experiences, ranging from super fat chick to trying to cut off my fat chick to want to be healthy chick. I don't know if I ever help anyone.

I wonder if I should stop offering my opinions. I try not to offer advice. What works for one person will not necessarily work for the next. I'm just happy to share what's been my experience and let people take from that what they want.

It's just hard. I feel sad when someone writes and tells me their secrets--the same ones I've kept for years. I want to help. I want to warn. I want to be there for them. But I sit here, 2-1/2 years out from gastric bypass, just about 6 months into treatment for bulimia, nearly 41 years of feeling like crap in a body that's never quite fit my soul. What can I offer? What really can I do?

I'm not an expert. I don't even play one on the internet. But I will read emails, listen to voice messages and respond whenever I can. Just don't expect the solutions from me. Those come from within each individual. If this path I take creates a map of must-travel, avoid-at-all-costs roads to fulfilling personal development, then hurray for all of us. You can send me a check in the mail and thank me on Oprah.

I just want to be happy with myself. I want other people to be happy with themselves, too. But that's up to them. That's up to you.

Dig me out, please

What the hell does a boatload of snow have anything to do with gastric bypass surgery and bulimia? Ah, you had to ask.

I have a million pounds of snow to shovel today. And I have the stomach the size of an egg. The quandary: I have to get in enough food to replenish the energy I'm going to exert. My friends, that amount of food is a lot for my re-engineered innards and for my eating disordered brain.

I feel as though I should start eating now, jump start the calories flying out of my furnace and then keep it stoked through out the day. But...I'm afraid that if I start eating, I won't stop. If I don't stop, I'll purge. If I purge, I eff up a nearly a month of puke-free living.

I suppose I should just bite the bullet (or bagel) and take care of myself. Duh. I do that everyday. For whatever reason, my brain is wonky this morning. My perception is skewed. My fear is vicious.

Ok. Stop it. It's just flippin' snow. A stupid shovel. One meal out of many.

Snow sucks. ED sucks more. Both do their damnedest to dump on my driveway.

UPDATE OF JOY!

I ate a delicious breakfast of kashi oatmeal, blueberries and cottage cheese and then I went out to tackle the snow. I called my mom quick to whine. When I walked back in the house an hour later, there were 7 missed called from her telling me to call right away. I did. My dad was on his way to the rescue. He showed up a bit later with a snowblower. My driveway is free. My back is saved. And my dad loves me.

A peaceful coexistence

Yesterday presented me with an important lesson in managing emotions. Or rather, not trying to manage emotions.

During the past few weeks, I've had this deep sense of calm and contentment settle into me. This is a state of being that I've never really experienced before. Or, if I have, it has not been my true state...only a passing premonition of what might come, but empty still because it had no staying power.

This state of being, I believe, is my authentic self coming through. I am convinced that this calm and contentment is what I am meant to be. And from that, I extract a sense of joy that surpasses any ever brought on by other people, circumstances or objects.

I want to do anything to protect it. It is my child. I want nothing to come between me and it...including negative emotions. And especially not strong, overwhelming, negative emotions that also feel all-consuming. So when they arrived yesterday, I panicked a bit. How could they intrude? How dare they? Leave my happiness alone.

But the negative emotions, the result of intense introspection and self-discovery, weren't going anywhere. And for very healthy reasons, neither should they go anywhere until I have recognized them and dealt with them.

So how do you let the good and bad reside together when your goal is calm and contentment?

My therapist helped me better understand this: a negative emotions doesn't cancel out a positive emotion. It's not a tit for tat sort of tally card going on in my soul. For me, I think it's more about keeping balance between the two. As long as I don't give one precedence over the other, I think I can be safe. I have enough strength in me to revel in the joy and respect the fear. Neither are compromised. Both are honored. And in the end, I remain whole and healthy.

Maybe this is my first step away from that damned black and white thinking. Maybe this is the gray zone I've been dipping my toes into.

No matter what, I know that last night--and actually nearly immediately after experiencing these intense, conflicting feelings--I navigated the gray waters quite successfully. I saw what was happening. Took immediate steps to preserve my abstinence and to create safety. This morning, I woke to calm and contentment and understood that there was fear and shame. And that was okay. And I was okay. And this could be my life. For real. This could be me.

Transitioning II

I feel like I've done this before. Oh, yep. I have. Back in December. So how am I going to do it different, do it better, do it in a way that offers me the most opportunities for success?

I think I got my answer today when I scaled a swinging wooden pole and traversed a hanging beam. Picture a crucifix. Minus the two criminals hanging on either side.

What did I learn? When faced with a challenge, I must...

1.) Trust my support team. They won't let me splat. They'll tell me the truth. They'll see obstacles long before I do. I need to listen to them and ask for help.

2.) Let go of the eating disorder. It might be familiar. It might be the closest thing to grasp for and the easiest thing to cling to, but in the end, I've got to let go or I'll hang myself.

3.) Stay on my feet. If I focus on standing on my feet, I won't have enough energy left to worry about falling. And if I do fall, don't reach for the eating disorder. Trust my support team.

4.) I don't have to feel confident to accomplish my goal, I just have to DO IT. While I might think everyone is watching the fat girl trying to fake her way through the world, the truth is everyone is really just watching a capable, strong woman climb her way out, up, over and around her biggest obstacle: her own doubt. If I look around for approval, I will never see it because that can only come from myself. But if I stop to really look around, appreciate the moment, live in the now and not the then or when, I will see smiles of encouragement, not sneers of judgement.

In less than two weeks, I'll finish the partial hospitalization program. I'll have two weeks of intense outpatient appointments and then I should be released back to work. Yesterday, my nutritionist tweaked my meal plan after a weekend of late evening difficulties. I've reconnected with an old friend, someone who played a pivotal role in my teens and early twenties. And I also have to say good-bye this week to two amazing women who have been with me throughout this recovery process. I'm sad. I'm glad. I'm scared. But most importantly, I'm strong enough to actually identify and accept those things. Sad. Glad. Scared. That puts me, in my estimation, nearly into the normal category. After all, who wouldn't feel those things in the same situation? Probably just the people who aren't really working on recovery, healing or discovery.

So I'm likely to have a melt down or two the next few weeks. It's how I operate. The difference now is that I know I'm at a higher risk for a freak out. I see the circumstances that have created drawn out, painful cycles of indifference, paralysis and retreat.

As long as I have an answer to or am working on finding an answer to "the biggest question of them all", I'll be okay. Some times, most times, once I get around to asking the question, the answer becomes moot. Some times, most times, I'm simply most afraid of figuring out that inevitable, perplexing, soul-searching, life-changing question that, once screamed, whispered, wailed or written, sets me free from it all. What am I afraid of?

Go Googlebutt!

This weekend was a visit with my other nieces, Jaden, left, and Lorrin, right.

We had fun watching movies, playing musical pillows, hot potato and garbage, and doing fun crafty things, like making secret message necklaces.

Jaden, 6, filled Googlebutt with treasures and a special note. She gave me the green guy a couple months back and he's been trekking around in my purse or pocket since then. We took a picture of Googlebutt next to the stuffed guinea pig, Guinness, named after their real-life rodent who looks exactly like her fake cousin.

A good time was had by all, even the little one who spent most of Saturday morning on the toilet or kneeling in front of it. It must have been the Mac & Cheese I fed her the night before.

Who am I?

I have been listening to Eckhart Tolle read A New Earth. I loved listening to The Power of Now. This has been a good extension of that.

Yesterday I heard him say that we best define ourselves by who we are NOT versus who we are.

I find that a hard concept to wrap my head around. I have always defined myself by the roles I have assumed in my life. But as those roles and responsibilities change--either because of my choosing or because of circumstances brought about by the choices of others--I realize that I do want to change this perspective. I just have a hard time saying what I am NOT because my logic wants me to then add a "but" and the opposite of that NOT as an I AM. Follow?

So I thought I'd start a list. I first wanted to say that I AM NOT AFRAID. But I am. I AM NOT FAT...a judgement call and not one that someone in my position should be making. I AM NOT ALONE. This I can believe. This is TRUE. No matter how lonely I might feel, I know I am not alone. So if I am not alone, does that mean I'm loved? Ah...the sticking point. I don't know that for a fact. But I think I can deduce with some sort of confidence that if I am not alone, then I must at least be approachable on some level and that could also make me both likable and, dare I say, lovable.

The problem with this whole concept is that my black and white thinking quickly pushes any definition to one end of the spectrum or another. In fact, my thinking dictates there be a definition. Why not just be ok with I AM. Maybe I need to think in terms of I AM HERE. I AM NOW. I AM...fill in the blank with given facts, not judgements or emotions.

What do I know for certain about myself? I AM ABLE TO CHOOSE. I AM ABLE TO EMOTE. I AM ABLE TO BREATHE. For today, that's enough. It's a lot more than I've been able to do on some not so distant days in my life.

For today, it's not what or who I am or am not. It's simply I AM.

Go Buckeyes!

I had a great weekend in Ohio with my niece, Nikkole. She's nearly 17, just got her driver's license and is a wonderful young woman. I'm so impressed with her sense of responsibility, her eye on the future, her understanding of life. I wasn't that together at her age. But, some things do run in the family. For instance, our impeccable taste in eyewear. I'm hoping she and I get to do a little travelling together this summmer when she comes ti Wisconsin to visit her dad.

Just the right words

Trying to find the words to help me breathe through the tough times. They come up unexpectedly, most inconveniently. My therapist is great at intuitively, spontaneously feeding my phrases during my guided meditions so that I can slow the breathing and center.

I think I've come upon my own back up phrase, the one I can use without thinking of another when emotions, events, situations are overwhelming.

Breathe with me:

Breathe in the moment.
Relax into your body.

Here we go again...

But not really. Not down the same path. In a Robert Frost moment of realization, I'm taking my own road less travelled.

Wednesday was a magnificent day in my life. So much of what I've been working on the past few months merged and manifested. I DO AMAZING THINGS.

I was up well into the the early hours of Thursday morning, unwilling to sleep should I miss a moment of life. I had so many thoughts to journal and so many other experiences from the day to review that I needed to get them in some kind of order so I wouldn't forget.

And that brings me to the fork in my road.

To bed by 1:30 a.m. Thursday and then up at 4 a.m., I began yesterday full of excitement and possibility, comforted by the goings on of the day before. But I also had a chest and throat tight with anxiety: had what I been through the previous 24 hours just a fancy or was it real?

I didn't have my pre-breakfast snack and I was so consumed by writing that I lost track of time and was quite late for treatment. So I grabbed a coffee,protein shake, Ritz Sticks (yummy) and apple juice. Ate that in the car. Took my shake into the program and sucked on that.

Within 45 minutes or so, I realized what I was doing...and why. I was starting cycle through my eating disorder: making excuses for not eating, choosing foods lower in calories, relying on liquid calories and letting thoughts of restricting really have free play in my head. Plus, we had two new people in the group. All I saw was a super skinny girl and a gorgeous girl. And I felt like the heifer in the room. I had been having a great body image day. I loved my clothes and felt comfortable in them and confident, too. I even had tucked my shirt into the belted trousers. But everything changed in that split second.

Fortunately, I realized I was in a familiar spot. A few weeks ago I had a great spell. And I spiralled down and ended up purging on a city street before seeing my shrink. Low point, for sure.

Yesterday, though, I realized where I was heading and I CHOSE to take a different path. I was NOT going to engage in ED behaviors.I was not going to let the flipping disease hijack my progress. I CHOSE to be responsible.

While I knew where I was heading and understand the choice to be made, I did not feel like I had all the tools. What did I do weeks ago to pull me out of the spiral? I didn't remember. So I ASKED for help. Nearly every moment of the day. My team gave me insight, support and encouragement. I saw the path, walked it and lived each moment of it. No ED behaviors for me yesterday. My body hate chilled and I actually ended up relaxing into my skin again by the time I left for the day.

This transition is significant. It is a new way for me to cope. Still scary, still unknown, still uncertain. But I did the NEXT right thing. Could it be that it's sinking in? Fingers crossed.

WLS vs. ED, Round One. Ding Ding!

I started to write the following as a reply on Arielfreak's current blog post. But I decided to publish it here instead. Please go read her post, then pop back for my response:

I don't really feel like a part of the WLS community anymore, mostly because WLS (for me) ended up being just another symptom of a nearly lifelong eating disorder.

I think I was brainwashed (and willingly so) by desperation, the WLS community, surgeon, etc. into accepting a nutritional rationale for my weird eating behaviors created by the "onset" of a pouch. The WLS rules, both spoken and unspoken, are insidious in that we accept them as truth. Because we want to believe that it's all about the weight. Along the way, we forgot it was about the "I" in each of us.

Today was my most intuitive eating day in probably my whole life...nearly 15,000 days. My breakfast was a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich (2 pieces of bread) and a yogurt. Morning snack: a mini scone from Starbucks which was selected for it's appeal because, although I asked for nutritional facts, I said "forget it, just give me the scone" and ate it. Lunch: a grilled cheese sandwich on white bread, consisting for fresh sliced mozzarella, portabella mushroom, tomatoes and spinach, served alongside Asian coleslaw and home-fried chips. Afternoon snack # 1 was an apple and #2 was raisins with protein chews. Dinner was a spur of the moment decision: potluck. I took nothing, but I ate a bowl of homemade split pea and ham soup (with potatoes), a slice of buttered bread and...a green M&M chocolate chip cookie. Final snack: another apple.

Whew! I think that menu would freak out most WLS people. It would have freaked me out, too, a few months back. But today it felt right. I ate what I wanted in the quantity that felt appropriate and provided me with satiety. Notice bread in all three meals? At one time I would have told you I "could never eat bread again." And believed it. Not now. Now I believe that I was a compulsive eater who got surgical anorexia that morphed into bulimia. WLS or not, I was caught between the "food" and the "emotions" floor in my elevator head...no matter what button [read: diet, fad, doctor, surgery] I pushed.

Progressive Thinking

During the past several weeks, I've incorporated daily affirmations into my life...much like those at the top of this page. I'm learning that the frame of mind which we adapt entirely dictates our vantage point.

Today, I was struck with this overwhelming thought spurred on by genuine confidence and certainty about myself: Someday, I am going to do something amazing.

In my new affirmative mode, I realized that why should I put off what I want to happen now. So I reworded that phrase: I am doing something amazing.

I let that roll around in my pink little head and began to understand how limiting even that statement was. I limited myself to SOMETHING. Wait. I am doing LOTS of amazing things: being honest, challenging my thoughts, staying open to possibilities, accepting responsibilities. And I think I should take all the credit for that.

So I edited my affirmation and I find that it sits well with my spirit:

I DO AMAZING THINGS.

Yes, I do. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Present in my amazing way of being human, being vulnerable, being brave. Amazing, all of it. Really.

Challenge

I met last night with my outpatient dietitian. I really respect this woman. She gets where I'm coming from: a lifetime of dieting and desperation, reluctant to follow a meal plan that "feels" like a diet, scared to death of NOT following a meal plan because without it, the chance for recovery is greatly reduced.

So during the conversation I have come to accept:

1) My meal plan is a guideline. Not a bunch of rules. Not a diet. Not a pass or fail situation. Not a lose weight or gain weight plan. It's just learning to eat in a way that my body needs in order to receive adequate nutrition.

2) Calories suck. And so does counting them. So I'm not doing it anymore. My snack exchanges are now to be thought of as choosing foods from different groups, not just consuming a wad of calories from whatever I want or can reach.

3.) Scales suck even more. I gave Anne my beautifully decorated inspirational scale because it was STILL doing a head trip on me. And I realize now that every time I step on it, I lose a little bit of my confidence and gain a lot of doubt. Every time I step on it, I feed my eating disorder. One time, the scale was my very best friend as it ticked off the melting pounds post-WLS. But now it's just a judge, a finger pointer, a scab picker. I'd like the wounds to heal.

4.) I do not know how to shop for food that isn't diet food, isn't sugar-free, isn't low-fat, isn't reduced in some way or another. I have been drinking diet soda since forever. I've been using artificial sweeteners even longer. I've got to learn how to shop without label reading, comparison and calorie counting. But how? I have NO IDEA where to start. Anne suggested a trip to the yogurt shelf. One minute. No label reading. The very thought is overwhelming. How do you know what to buy if you've never had it before? And how do I eat something that I KNOW has 3 times the calories of what I normally eat? This one is going to take some work.

5.) I don't have to be perfect. I just have to be me. Tall order, I know. But since I'm starting to understand me better, I think I can handle it.

And on a totally unrelated note: I climbed the rock wall today and reached the top. Yes, I did it once on a cruise and got half-way up. So really, why try again? That was a big enough feat for me. The problem though is that I was afraid I'd fail if I tried again. And being good at something only one time is worse than never being good at it. So the fact that I got to the top? Big deal. The fact that I harnessed up and walked to the wall, taking that first step as I grabbed high? That was the success. I tried again. If I could do this, I could try again at a lot of things.

Consider this:

I was given and I am living in this particular body for my soul to learn a lesson.

Now

One of my favorite parts of my treatment program has been art therapy. It's given me a chance to reconnect to a creative side of myself that's been dormant for quite some time. I have the freedom to work with a variety of media, never limited to what the "assignment" might be. I rarely follow instructions from the therapist. He's ok with that, I'm happy and the outcome is always something that I'm both proud of and humbled by.

One particular day, we were doing some kind of collage. Usually, I'm all about collage: creating something new from something old. But this day, I just wanted to write. So I grabbed newsprint and did that, jotting this poem in a makeshift book. I like that my "presence" stands out against the noise of the page. Isn't that what being present really is? Transcending the noise and distractions, focusing on just the here and now.

So here are photos of the original project and slightly edited verse from that book:















Practicing presence against the staccato tears of paper,
the swipes of black pen on (blank) white sheets,
shear of scissors across tissue thin pages,
fiber against fiber, crumpled balls of frustration, freedom.

[Breathe, Jennifer. Breathe.]

This pulp become the pulse of my life,
anchoring me in the Here. The Now.
What comes before. What comes after.
Nothing more that the flutter of this paper storm.