Hey there. I hope you are well and got to enjoy some of that gorgeous weather last weekend. I could do without this crappy rain and chilly temps but alas it will be hot soon enough and I will be bitching about that, too. :)
I met with the Surgeon last Thursday and am thrilled to be working with her. The meeting was really interesting and I have every confidence that I have found the right person to work with during this journey. We spoke about a lot of things and I will touch on different elements of it as things progress but I want to start with food journaling. This isn't my first time with a food journal so it's not a foreign concept to me. If you have ever tried any other weight loss program (which will not be named due to trademark issues...it's like the Voldemort of weight loss - the program that shall not be named!) this is a tool utilized for keeping track of your eating and adding a level of accountability.
Ok, no biggie. I bop to the store and pick out my cute little journal that fits so perfectly in my purse blah blah blah. I am doing my best to eat my several small meals during the day focusing on protein rich foods, etc. (also part of my transition). For the first couple of days I got this on lock but then the cravings start again and it becomes nearly a compulsion. I can't stop thinking about eating and for some reason I find myself ridiculously angry. Like angry angry, like "I want to get in someone's face just 'cause" kinda angry. I really don't get like this often but when I do it's a warning sign that something just ain't right. The eating continued to get out of control: a pint of ice cream, eating out, tortilla chips, oreos, oreos and more oreos. Did I mention oreos? WTF??!! Why do I want to eat until I explode while wanting to punch anyone who pisses me off? And then it finally came to me...it was a year ago at this time that I experienced a really humiliating experience at my job that hurt so much that I just pushed it down so I wouldn't have to feel it.
Ok, background. A couple of year ago I started at my job working for "The Man" a.k.a. - The State of New Jersey. I was excited for a change but at the same time I kept to myself. I was insecure because of my weight and wasn't sure how to express my quirky offbeat self. If there's one thing my job doesn't do is "quirky and offbeat". I was withdrawn for about six months and I wasn't used to feeling so alienated, especially by choice. I had been wanting to lose weight (for the millionth time) and ready to work hard at it. My hope was that as I lost the weight I would feel more comfortable being myself and people would start to get to know me and I wouldn't feel so alone. Now to be fair I have met some really cool folks that are my friends but I wanted to feel like it was ok to just be Bec. When I started with my position we were a large group. Most of the newbies immediately took to each other while I was always on the periphery. They went out for lunch, drinks, etc. I had never made an attempt to participate so I felt I had no one to blame but myself. So around a year ago in March, after losing thirty pounds, I felt ready to put myself out there and asked if I could join the next lunch outing. I was in for a rude awakening. It was very clear that I was an interloper and not welcome. I tried going out once again to see if I was misreading the situation. Second time was not a charm and quite clearly a mistake. But to make matters worse I found that there were a couple of people that would engage in conversation with me just to turn my words around and mock me behind my back. How did I know? Because I caught several of them repeating my words and laughing at my expense. I felt like I was hit with a brick. Here I was feeling good about myself and hoping I was finding my way to then find that I set myself up to be a target of disdain. I can't tell you how much that hurt. It still hurts me right now as I write about it. If you know me you understand that I don't do that shit and personally don't understand why others enjoy it. It's certainly not the first time it had ever happened but this one felt the most malicious and it wrecked me. I went on trying to act like I didn't care and just pulled away again but the damage was done. My confidence dropped and my naivete that I would be accepted because I felt good about myself was crushed. I was hurting and the scale slowly began to creep back up.
I know you're thinking, "Ok, that totally sucks but what does this have to do with journaling?" I will attempt to make my point. There are so many elements of this transition that I already know how to do: journaling, eating frequent small meals, chewing more slowly, exercising. I have done them before and have had short lived successes. I realize that each time I lost weight there was this part of me that really hoped that the best part would be that people would accept me. Yeah, well, that's not how it works. I can journal until I am blue in the face but it doesn't stop the pain of feeling rejected, seeing myself as a failure and knowing that food is how I have always dealt with these emotions. What's going to happen when I make this drastic change where I can no longer feel through food? How will I feel when the weight is gone and I am left with people who hate me no matter what I do? What then?
Sure, I am still pissed as hell that those fuckers got to me but to put another spin on it there is a part of me that is wondering if I can use that anger and shift it into a something workable. I hope that at some point opening my journal will have a better and more positive connotation but right now every time I open it l I feel like I am ripping open a wound that, after thirty years of trying, has still not healed. I can't control how other people feel about me and I would be wise to remind myself of that often; however, at the end of it all I want to feel good in my own skin. I truly hope that is the outcome.
So there you have it. My heart and guts ripped out on the table. I am sure that everyone has had an experience like this and to be honest that makes me sad and disgusted. I knew that this whole process would be daunting but the hardest part is facing my demons. Perhaps one day I will have the courage to tell The Little Shits (my pet name) to go jump but I would rather just find some peace. I feel some of the anger receding so thanks for sticking with me. Perhaps not my best written blog but one that comes sincerely from my heart.
Love,
b
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