Monday, September 19, 2011

What happens when recovery sets you back.

The middle of last week ended on a bad note. My husband and I would not stop fighting. He recognizes that I have a problem with you. He also took it upon himself to nitpick and fuss over every single thing I did or ate. I couldn't take it anymore so I just exploded at him. This has been going on for a while. And...I had enough. I even started calling divorce lawyers.

Anyways, on Thursday I went out with my sister to just get away from him. I had a feeling something was off because after we had breakfast, I threw up 3 times. I also had this weird pain in my chest, but I figured that was due to vomiting. The rest of the day was fun, until my husband called me to try and talk. I wanted nothing to do with him, and every word he said just made me angrier and angrier. On top of that, my heart had been skipping beats throughout the day.

In the middle of the fight with him, I got this pain in my chest. It just kept getting worse. I had to have my sister drive me to a nearby emergency care center. They ran some tests, and said that what could be going on with me would be better diagnosed at the hospital. So, off to the ER I went. After more tests and scans, they determined I have Pleurisy, inflammation of the chest cavity.

So what does my adventure have to do with my weight? I was so fat the stretcher the paramedics put me on was cutting off circulation to my legs. My blood pressure at it's highest was 160/90. It took a nurse 20 minutes to find a vein in my arm to draw blood. They had to change what test to give me because they couldn't find a second vein for the CAT scan. When I was on the scanner for my lungs, the machine kept stopping because my fat rolls were in the way. The doctor literally had to push and hold my fat on the table.

It was so embarrassing. When I was giving the admitting nurse my vitals, he had this look of shock that I haven't had a period in a year. It hurt even more when he said "Oh, did you just have a baby?". No...no baby. I stopped ovulating a long time ago, and I'm not even sure if I can have a baby. But that is another entry.

Fast forward to today when I weighed myself. I figured I had lost weight because I've been too tired to eat. I weigh 366 as of this morning. That means I gained 6 lbs in 5 days. I feel so disgusted with myself. I had to force myself to eat breakfast. I can't exercise until the pain in my chest is completely gone, and that will take several days.

I'm trying to stay positive throughout this ordeal. To be honest, it is impossible. I can feel all of my motivation and hard work slipping through my fingers. And...I have no idea how to get them back.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

'But...you don't look that big".

That is probably the hardest thing to hear when people find out my weight. I only tell close family and friends, but that's the one thing I keep hearing. I'm sure they mean it as a compliment, but that doesn't soften the blow. I don't feel like I weight 360 lbs, but I do. It's kind of hard to accept your body when you don't feel like it's yours. I can't give an exact weight, but I just feel...smaller.

I feel smaller, but I am definitely not in denial every time I look in the mirror. I recently starting wearing makeup again to boost my self esteem. I keep wearing it, but I feel like I look like a clown. I want to be able to look at myself and feel good about what I see. And then we come back to food. Food doesn't care about how I look. It doesn't feel at all. It's just food. This might be stupid, but I am optimistic that one day I won't need food to cope, or I can get to the point where I don't succumb to every craving.

And I know that will be the happiest time of my life.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Welcome to my life.

Hello, blogging world. This isn't my first time blogging, but this is probably my first time being honest. I had a weight loss blog going on for a couple months, then I just stopped. But...that's usually how my weight loss attempts end: I'm all gung ho, ready to kick obesity's ass, then one thing or another happens and I just give up. Now I know what some of you might be thinking: "Dude, it is not that hard to lose weight. You just exercise and watch what you eat. Why can't you at least do that?".

Actually, let me rephrase that. That's what I feel like people are thinking. I see the way people look at me when I walk into a restaurant or a clothing store. It's this mix of disgust and pity. I don't want anyone's pity, and I certainly don't think I'm disgusting. I might be getting ahead of myself here. Let me back up a bit.

I've always been big. I had asthma when I was a kid, and the only way to get my lungs to function was to have them pumped with steroids. Unfortunately, the steroids affected my entire body. Growing up, my parents weren't really advocates for healthy lifestyles. My mother was addicted to various over the counter medications that affected her mood and mental state. My father did exercise, but bouts of arthritis and general laziness defeated the purpose of his efforts. Then there was me. I didn't give a shit. My parents were emotionally and verbally abusive. My body was the last thing on my mind.

However, that was the only thing my parents were concerned about. So, when I was 14, they put me in fitness classes. I believe I went from 270 to around 200. And...I felt amazing. I came out of my shell, I felt good about myself and I finally had self esteem. But that wasn't meant to last. My parents were horrible with money, so we lost one car and our home. The only thing we could afford was food. Food was the only constant thing around me. And food can always be cheap. Keep that in mind...it's going to be a reoccurring theme.

Things were the same from the ages of 15-17: we'd get a house, they would gamble away any and everything, and we'd have to move. We actually became somewhat stable and stayed in the same place for almost 4 years. When I was 18, I was a high school grad on the verge of starting college. I was also juggling a full time job. I believe my weight was around the 290-300 range. But I wasn't worried about it. My life was routine for a while. Then on November 20, 2006, I asked a co-worker for a ride home. All I remember is having a couple of drinks then fading in and out of consciousness. During one of my two moments of clarity, I realized he was on top of me and I was naked. During the 2nd, he was zipped up his pants and told me not to tell anyone. It sunk in that I had been raped when I woke up in a pool of blood and I was in searing pain.

Sorry if that was a bit too much, but it's one of the major events that led me to how big I am today. I didn't tell my parents what happened. They figured it out on their own. My mother just asked me one night what the hell was my problem. I told her I wasn't a virgin anymore and that it was rape. She told me I better go to church and pray for forgiveness. My father just said "Tough shit. Deal with it". So...I ate. And ate. Sometimes I ate to the point where I blacked out.

I don't want to go into every single event that caused me to eat. But, I've been through and seen more hell than the average person my age should ever have to deal with. And what always stayed the same? What always took the place of my parents, an abusive ex, apathetic friends, ect.? My precious food. I've spent more time and money on food than anything else in my life. The problem is, it got worse. I starting going on food binges. One time I spent $40 at Burger King, and I ate everything in 20 minutes.

Even while I'm typing this, I want to get in my car and go to Chipotle. I don't know if anyone reading this could ever understand what's like to be trapped under something that can be fixed. It's like I'm a prisoner in my own body and I can't break free. And it's affecting my health. I'm pre-diabetic, and unless I make a change now, my husband and I won't be able to have kids.

So...I'm doing something drastic. I'm putting myself out there for the world to see. You probably don't know me, but I want you to say something to me. If I inspire you, that's awesome. If you think I'm a disgusting slob, hey that's your opinion. People hear all about the drug addicts and alcoholics. But what about people like me?  The next few weeks, I'm going to try my damndest to change my life. It's going to suck, and I know I will make mistakes. But I'm tired of being a ticking time bomb. I'm tired of being seen as a joke. I'm tired of paying $10-40 more for clothes just because I'm not a size 10. I'm tired of reverting back into my shell whenever my husband touches me. I'm tired of secluding myself. I'm tired of being the fat girl.