Why Me?

I've been told before that I over analyze everything - and I'm afraid that I am very, very guilty of that. But sometimes I think I need to take a cold, hard look at things, and this week, I have really been thinking about why (and how) I got to the place I have been, and where I am now.

First, and foremost, no matter what it sounds like - I am not blaming anyone else for my choices. I made the decisions. I put the food in my mouth. And yet, without some of the circumstances I found myself in, it is doubtful I would have had the same reaction.

I have never been tiny. I like food way too much! My mother is an excellent cook, and like many of my generation, I was brought up to clean my plate.

More importantly, I am such a stress eater. A very bad and painful first marriage left me with few options. As things deteriorated, I ate. The worse things got in the relationship, the more I ate. As the abuse increased, so did my weight. Interestingly enough, I have learned since that time in my life that even infants gain weight when subjected to sexual abuse. It seems to be a deep-seated response to abuse. I do remember thinking that the abuse was in response to my weight - but I was terrified to do anything about it - for two reasons: 1) the one time that I actually went on a serious diet and lost weight, the abuse actually increased; and 2) I was so afraid that I would find out that it wasn't the weight after all - it was me he hated. Turns out that wasn't too far from the truth, but for a long time, I couldn't have handled knowing that. Eating was how I survived. At the time, it was the best I could do.

So, thoughts turned into actions, which then turned into habits. And by the time 10 years had passed - I was the size of a house. I lost some weight after the divorce, but not nearly enough. And I didn't change the underlying habits, so the weight came back.

Fast forward a number of years...being married to Dave was so different from my first marriage. This was a man who really loved me. But he really loved his food, too, and eating became something we shared. And the weight kept piling on. There were surgeries of all kinds - for things not necessarily caused by weight, but certainly aggravated by the weight. A massive infection resulted in a hysterectomy, and the same infection attacked my heart, which was already stressed by the weight. And the doctor said, "congestive heart failure" - and "drugs may or may not work, and if they don't your only option is a heart transplant." And all of a sudden my life would never be the same again.

I cannot undo what the years of overeating have done to me. I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I can make improvements here and now, which will ultimately improve my health somewhat, but I can't fix my heart. The damage has been done. I can wish that I had paid attention earlier - to doctors, to friends, to family who were concerned. But I didn't, and wishing will not undo it. I can beat myself up about being so stupid - for getting into a bad relationship - for staying in it for a decade - for eating my way out of it - for letting things get so bad that I have a chronic health issue that will not go away. But none of that will change anything. So, while I acknowledge the past that has brought me to this point, I'm not crying over it. I am looking forward...

Yes, I am looking forward...to the day when I can finally say that I've lost 275 pounds, and am where my doctor wants me to be. I am looking forward to being at the place where I make GOOD choices based on what my body needs, and not choices based on what my emotions are telling me I need. I am looking forward to the day I can say to ANYBODY - you CAN do this...because I DID this!