Disappearing Acts

(All photo rights © 2009 Steve Topper Photography http://stevetopper.com/)

The funny thing about exercise is that somewhere in the midst of gasping for air and sweating like a roasting pig, there is a deep solitude and stillness that allows me to hear my inner voice's whispered screams.  I took the puppies on a two mile hike through the woods after dinner last night.  The solitude of nature, the sweet melody of sparrows serenading, the wind caressing leaves high above my head...all contributed to a resonant tranquility and forced my conscious mind to rest from her endless worries. 

I reflected on the path that I've started towards a healthier life, pondered my destiny as a motivational speaker and writer...eventually my thoughts rested on what brought me to this point.  While obesity is a major epidemic in the developed world, "normal fat" is gaining more acceptance, while "super fat" people are forced into the shadows.  What triggered my progression from "normal fat" to "super-sized"?

To be perfectly fair, I was always destined to carry a bit more weight than my peers...from a family of large people steeped in southern tradition, there was little that I could have done to prevent wide hips and thick thighs.  There were, however, several more profound events that I can pinpoint, which led to my chronic depression and, in turn, my weight issues.  In many ways, being fat was a way for me to disappear.  Thin people are considered gorgeous, sought after, wanted; while their larger counterparts are often discarded, written off and devalued.  My whole life I felt discarded, written off, devalued...me gaining weight was simply a reflection of my inner struggle with Self.

I previously alluded to the fact that I was discarded at birth.  I was the child of two too-young-for-parenthood teenagers: a 14-year-old father whose deeply religious parents shunned my mother and declared emphatically that I couldn't be their son's child...a mother who battled her own depression and often-harsh upbringing.  I have heard several variations of the story, but this I know to be true: in the mid-morning hours on March 30, 1984 my then 16-year-old mother delivered me...alone in her father's house.  I can only imagine the panic and fear that overwhelmed her!  Unsure of what to do, she placed me in a duffel bag and brought me to the bayou where she placed me in a hole.  I was in the hole for little more than a week before I was found by two best friends who happened to be crawfishing.  As the story was plastered across every newspaper and television in Louisiana, my mother became very ill because, due to her inexperience with childbirth, she failed to deliver the after-birth.  It wasn't hard to figure out I was the missing baby she claimed to have never had.  Somehow I was placed back with her--either because the Divine has a wonderful sense of humor, or because there was a greater plan for my life and this was simply the road I needed to travel. 

I've heard that my mom loved me very much when I was a baby.  I remember hearing her tell me those words on occasion, but honestly...I never felt loved or wanted.  I was a very smart child and excelled at most things I tried, so I never felt lacking for praise and recognition, though when I wasn't "perfect" there was never a shortage of insults and criticisms either.  It was the affectionate, quality-time, "I am happy you're in my life" love that was missing; perhaps she never received it to give. 

By the time my mother was 20 and I was 4 1/2 years old, she had four children.  As is often the case with young mothers, she worked more than she was home so by six years old, I became the default baby sitter.  When she was home, we were reminded how hard we made her life...how much of a burden we were to her...her frustrations manifested as welts and bruises on delicate skin.

Beginning at six years old and lasting nearly a year, I was molested by a middle schooler in my apartment complex; one instance, she decided to include her uncle.  For years, I harbored guilt and resentment.  I thought she was my friend...why didn't I tell anyone...why didn't I make her stop???  Home alone with no supervision, food became a solace for me at a young age.  The feeling of being stuffed seemed to momentarily fill the void left by the gaping hole in my soul.

I started injuring myself at ten years old...the first time, literally attempting to erase myself (which of course only led to eraser burn).  I wore the facade of a 4.0 student, young violinist, talented writer...only to mask the reality that I was a lonely, unloved and discarded child.  "Erasing" led to trying to cut pieces of myself away with scissors, which led to burning myself with matches and eventually cutting with razor blades.  I tried to make myself vanish by any means necessary.

My younger brother was my best friend and he was heart broken to discover that I had been hurting myself.  I was always his protector...his confidante...until I couldn't be anymore.  He always got the worst end of my mother's wrath, so she felt it necessary for him to move across the country to live with his father, whom he had never met.  Overnight, I went from having a brother to only speaking with him on his birthday.  There were no pictures of him in our home...it was as if he only existed when he visited every few years.  My heart shattered the day my brother left!  (Thankfully, we are both adults now and have reconnected.  We speak several times a week, which makes my heart smile!)

In middle school, I began to suffer from an eating disorder.  The food that was such a wonderful comfort for me, became the target of my self-hatred.  I starved myself all day, claiming that I wasn't hungry when in truth I just didn't want others to see me eating.  Nobody could know the great joy that eating gave me...a joy that nothing else had ever rivaled.  After school, I would go home and gorge myself on whatever was in reach (which was always a secret because we weren't allowed to eat anything without asking first)...I can remember secretly baking cakes and sharing it with my sisters before my mom came home...trips to the convenience store for chips and candy to be devoured without any evidence.  I would force myself to throw up all of the food and then say I wasn't hungry for dinner.  Eventually my mother and grandmother noticed that I rarely ate--their solution was to force me to sit and eat in front of them (which I would only throw up as soon as they left the room).  This went on through high school and stopped around the time I discovered razor blades.

From high school to college, I tried to commit suicide three times (my mother's response is that I should ask her how next time so I could do it right and stop putting her and my sisters through hell).  My last attempt was in my dorm room with a pint of tangueray and a dixie cup of sleeping pills...I didn't tell any of my family or friends about this.  Three days and a deep spiritual awakening later, I woke up and knew that something in my life had to change immediately!  From that moment forward, I have pursued a life of gratitude and purpose...trying even on my darkest days to find something worth living for.  I no longer cut or force myself to throw up, though many of the same, unresolved issues bubble beneath my surface.  This weight loss journey is forcing many of these problems up like an emetic on a full stomach. 

There, in the still quietness of the woods...the solitude of nature, the sweet melody of sparrows serenading, the wind caressing leaves high above my head...I pushed past the discomfort of aching muscles towards a future of endless possibilities.  A future with no limitations on my potential.  A future where I really love all of me...a future where instead of disappearing, I can actually SEE myself!

My Food Therapist

This evening I attended a dinner party for a hotel chain with whom my company has done business.  I was very nervous about going since I was feeling kind of blah today.  I had a rough day at work and thinking of the dinner automatically made me anxious: how do I stick to my plans without appearing "awkward" or turning down everything...how do I trust myself not to make bad decisions since I'm feeling emotional (especially since it's at one of my favorite restaurants!).  I had every intention of not going to the party, but my coworker wanted to go so, despite my reservations, I went along.

I am EXTREMELY proud of myself!!!  I had one drink (I'm not going to turn down a free drink!) and a few small tapas, but with 550 calories that I had left for dinner and already having met most of my nutrients for the day I am fairly confident that I stayed within my allowance.  I had a mango and some almonds before I arrived and drank about 4 glasses of water while there so that I would feel too full to eat or drink.  I know it's something small, but it seemed very big for me.  

I was speaking with my partner when I got home and explaining how when I'm feeling depressed, something sweet or greasy makes me feel better.  When I'm eating healthily, there is no emotion to it. I eat good foods because of the benefits that I feel in my body, not my emotions.  I eat bad foods because they make me happy...like smiling, mmm mmm mm mmm mmmmm, humming a negro spiritual while I lick my fingers happy!!!  

This will be the hardest part of this process...finding my happy without the help of Sour Patch Kids or mashed potatoes...really digging down deep and discovering what makes my soul shine.  I honestly can't say that I ever remember a time in my life being truly happy.  Food can be like a drug in that way...trick your psyche into accepting a sugar-fueled endorphin rush in place of true joy...chasing the next temporary high in the form of an ice cream sundae.  D.A.R.E. should have taught me to just say no to cheesecake!

The part of losing weight that has always scared me is the deep soul-searching, but I realize that without this necessary component, I'll never truly be free from the pounds; even if I get to my goal size, without the vital self-work, I'll simply be carrying my fat like dead weight (pun intended).  I found a place called Fat Yoga...I think that will be a good practice for me to learn so that I can find the answers that are locked deep within my cellulite.  I meet with the instructor, Anna, tomorrow... I'm so excited!  She was almost 300 pounds at her largest and says that yoga has transformed her life...I've always wanted to try yoga, but was afraid because of my size--the thought of doing a dashama scorpion pose...HA!  But Fat Yoga was developed for "extra cushioned" people with modified poses that still teach proper form and give a good workout.

Anna wanted to meet for coffee, but as part of my commitment to myself, I suggested that we meet for a walk instead.  I know that I will not lose weight overnight, but I'm certainly learning a lot about myself in the process! 

Failure to Launch

Feeling a bit blue today.  Losing weight is 99% mental; an introvert by nature, I find that I am lost in thought far more since I started this path than I ever have been.  Pondering how I got here, the long road I have to travel to be healthy...My weight has always held me back from being the person I want to be: I LOVE dance, but have always been too fat to make my movements look like more than a gyrating bowl of jello...I am very outgoing, but often appear to be a flake because I'm worried about what others will think so I sometimes cancel at the last minute out of embarassment and fear (I especially hate seeing people who I knew years ago for fear that they'll say....DAMN look how big she got!).

I feel alone, depressed, vulnerable...suffocating inside this shell that looks nothing like the person I am inside!  This should be enough motivation to have me running four hours a day, but the harder I work, the more I look ahead at the LONG path I have ahead.  200 pounds feels like it will take a lifetime to lose, but I know that if I don't start now I will never get there.  There are so many insecurities that I keep inside and I feel like this process is bringing them all to the forefront (probably for the best so that I won't be in a thin body with a fat girl's mentality)...I suppose instead of focusing on the negative, I should ponder and attract to myself the positive. 

My life will be completely changed when I lose weight:

1.  I'll be able to fit in stadium seats without feeling stuffed in!
2.  I'll be able to fit into plane seats without the armrest pinching into my thighs (or needing a seatbelt extender)
3.  I won't be afraid to go anywhere or do anything
4.  I'll be able to buy what I like because it's cute, not because it fits!!!
5.  I'll be able to dance freely without being self-conscious about what I look like to others.  (I will also be taking dance lessons to learn contemporary dance once I lose weight)
6.  I will be much more active...I want to compete in a cycling race and join a softball team.
7.  I'll be more self confident and not just pretending to be confident for the benefit of others
8.  Hopefully I won't shed as many tears or feel so alone...unless you've been this size, it's hard to understand even a fraction of the daily struggle.  Once I lose weight, it will be my mission to show others that they, too, can be free!
9.  I will be able to have children...actually, this should be the first item on the list!  I have always wanted to be a mother, but refused to have a child at this size...not only is it probably impossible...it's extremely dangerous for both mother and baby...I need to lose weight so that I can be the wonderful mother that I know I will be.
10.  "I wish I could" will be removed from my vocabulary!!!  Once I lose weight, there is nothing that will be able to hold me back from living the life that I want to live.

My thirties MUST be better than my childhood and my twenties...my weight has been the reason why I can't do things my entire life...I REFUSE to be that person for another decade in my life!