Post-Op Day 181 - Lost at Sea

Almost every day I go through the before and after photo gallery on Obesity Help (http://www.obesityhelp.com/morbidobesity/index.phtml). Most of the time, I just look at the photos and move on. Sometimes I will click on them to read the profiles.

It just struck me how sad most people are beforehand. They hated themselves and felt trapped in their oversized bodies. Once most of them have the surgery and experience results, it’s as if they’ve been set free from bondage. I don’t know why it really registered with me, but I just keep thinking about how many more people living right at this moment feel trapped and are loathing themselves.

I read one man’s entry where he said at 500+ pounds, he was contemplating suicide. Now, at 220, he is loving life more than ever. He shudders to think if he had killed himself, he never would have experienced a life so full and happy. That makes me so sad to think how many people in the past have given up on living because of their weight and they have either committed suicide up front or killed themselves slowly by giving up on life and letting the obesity take over.

The general public wants to judge and ridicule overweight people. However, if they only had a clue as to how painful emotionally and physically it is to be morbidly obese, they would be mortified. Perhaps there would be more compassion. Or maybe not. How sad it is though that people feel they have the right to be cruel and heartless to the obese.

I will always have compassion I think because I will always be a morbidly obese person inside. That’s not necessarily a bad thing either. I no longer qualify as morbidly obese and I am .2 away from leaving the severely obese BMI ranking and moving to just being "obese." Many in this country fall into the “obese” BMI range, so I am slowly becoming “normal.” However, it doesn’t change those feelings inside of me that have felt the pain of being morbidly obese for years.

My battle wounds are turning into battle scars. I wear those scars with pride though because it shows that I have faced and conquered the dreaded disease of morbid obesity. They also serve as reminders of where I have come from and what I have learned.

I've learned who loved and supported me as-is. I've learned how horrible it is to feel squeezed out of society’s norm with each 10 pounds gained. I've learned how small and confining the world can be when your body enlarges.

It’s terrifying to reach the point of morbid obesity because you feel like you drift so far out to sea that you have no idea how you’re going to return. You try to stop or at least tread water. But, more often than not, you drift further out to sea.

You panic. You so desperately want a normal life that it becomes overwhelming. You try all kinds of weight loss efforts and usually fail. Some actually make progress but even they often lose focus and drift back out to sea – sometimes even further than where they first started.

Once the reality hits that even your best efforts aren’t producing the results you need to get back within reach, your panic turns to desperation. Then you have a decision to make – do you accept the risks of this surgery or do you give up on living and just drift until you die?

People live with this terror every day. It’s horrible. We can smile. We can laugh. We can make people think everything is ok and we’re fine being the happy fat people. But the reality is: We’re desperate inside. In fact, we’re scared beyond belief.

After you accept the risk and have this surgery, you’re still afraid. You have hope but you’re prepared for failure because you’ve failed so many times. When the weight starts coming off, you still dismiss it. It’s too hard to put your faith into it because the failure on this last-ditch attempt would be absolutely devastating.

Still the weight comes off. You move forward. You see a glimpse of the shore! It is so magnificent to see. It’s so beautiful. It looks so safe. You then get some momentum and you actually start to swim a little. The weight falls off more. You’re elated.

Then it stops. You hit a plateau. You want to scream and you panic. Your head even dips under a few times and you think it’s the end. But then the scale moves again. And so do you. The shore comes into focus more and more. You make out shapes. You can visualize yourself there. Suddenly, a hope fills your soul. It is the most magnificent feeling in the world to know you might just survive.

You begin to smile more. The positive self-talk comes easier. You begin to enjoy the swim because you are moving forward. You feel lighter and happier. You are no longer morbidly obese. You are severely obese but hey - you will take whatever you can get. You appreciate your life more. You look back and see how far you’ve come and you can’t believe it. What’s even more exciting is that you know that there are more wonderful things ahead of you.

Sure, your arms are tired. Your body aches. You’re worn down. But you have new life that keeps getting better and better.

I wish I could write about what it feels like reaching the shore, but I am not there yet. I can’t wait to finish this story when I finally make it there. Right now the panic is gone and it is replaced with anticipation and true hope. Sure, I worry about being carried back out to sea, but I don’t let it consume me. I also worry about something going wrong, but I can’t let that take away my joy of the moment. I’ve worked too hard to not enjoy this.

My eyes are focused on the victory of reaching the shore. I’ve never really been there actually. I’ve been overweight all my life. Of course I was only wading for a while before I let myself be carried away. So, it’s nice to be back to where I am now. It’s been a long time. This time I am enjoying it.

I am appreciating the people who stand on the shore cheering me on, and I am bonding with the people who are beside me heading in the same direction. Most importantly, I am loving the people who are behind me still drifting. It is critical that I remember them and share my story so they too may have hope. I must always show them compassion and understanding because it was those who went ashore before me who helped me get to this point through their wisdom, support and encouragement.

Thank you God.