I'll Tell You What

"Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." It's a line that has been overused  by marketing companies and health enthiusiasts everywhere. But is there any truth in it? Well, I think that depends on which side of skinny one finds him/herself.

As most of you are aware, I am on the waiting list for weight loss surgery. I am simultaneously beside myself with excitement and frustrated with the length of the wait. Having already taken beginner steps toward what will be my new lifestyle, I have lost 12 lbs. It's not overwhelming, but it is certainly better than my previous situation of gaining 3 to 5 lbs/month! Given the difficulty and the side effects of achieving this has assured me that it will indeed be a successful surgery! I am not prepared to waste all of the time and energy invested by myself or the (extensive) medical team. I am fully comfident at that time, nothing will taste as good as skinny feels.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck in the waiting zone. It does not matter how little I eat or how much I exercise. My blood sugars and cholesterol have surprised the doctors. Still, hormones will do what hormones do, and I will gain as much from a plate of kale as I will from a small portion of cheesecake. Which would you choose? As long as my weight continues to feel like a losing battle, I'll tell you what tastes as good as skinny feels:

French fries. Crinkle-cut, deep fried and smothered in gravy. Home-cut, pan fried, and mixed with onions. Yes, please.

Ice cream. Drizzled with maple syrup or chocolate sauce. Just a little bit.

Cookies'n'Cream chocolate. In the middle of the worst office day ever, it just makes everything better.

Popcorn. Covered in butter and salt, of course.

Potato chips. With dip. Enough said.

Pepsi. Oh wait - not any more! I have actually beat this one - hooray for small successes!

I think what I'm trying to say is that, for many of us, skinny/healthy is a journey. Unless you know what took someone to their island of struggle, please don't judge them. There is a reason a weight loss team includes a surgeon, several nurses, a nutritionist and a psychiatrist. We are all doing the best we can, and sometimes we need help. I will get to the point where that leopard-print dress feels better than cake tastes; but until I get there, I'll tell you what tastes better than guilt: cheese. Cheeseburgers, cheesecake, broccoli and cheese....

A WORTHY CAUSE

I was cutting before it had a name. At 15 years of age, I had a special razor in my dresser drawer I would pull out at the end of the hard days. I always cut my inner thighs, because I knew nobody would see or question me about it. It's frightening to think about now, knowing what I know about the femoral artery! I really had no idea what I was experiencing had a name: depression.

Years passed and I had long stopped cutting. I was the mother of a toddler and an infant son. I had prayed every day of that second pregnancy for a boy, yet I couldn't enjoy him. When I looked at my baby, I remember thinking that I must be the world's worst mother because I truly didn't think my baby was cute. His face was fat and looked lopsided from the haircut in the NICU; his bum looked square when he tried to crawl, and he refused to be held unless he was nursing.

I had only been married 2 years, and was already living with domestic violence. A well-meaning mentor came to our home to speak into our marriage, and pointed out that I was moody and could be challenging to live with. I remember thinking, "He clearly doesn't understand." The rest of the marriage counseling was lost on me; I cried for days over that single sentence. I had no idea that what I was experiencing had a name: post-partum depression and severe anxiety.

My metaphorical house of cards fell after the divorce, after I learned my daughter had been abused, after I took on two step-children ... and lost one. Then and only then did I find myself in weekly counseling sessions, diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and anger issues. I remember asking my counselor why my hands shook so badly that I spilled coffee all over her chair every week for several months. She said it was my fight-or-flight response, and it indicated how much work we had to do.

Today, I am grateful to be alive. I found that razor in my dresser drawer about 5 years ago, and finally threw it away. My well-meaning friend was one of my biggest advocates when the domestic violence was revealed. I have ceased taking anxiety medications, and most days I find life manageable or treatable with uplifting music.

Today is Bell Let's Talk Day. Most people don't know my story; I was never healed enough to tell it. But I'm ready now. Because mental health issues have a cause. Left untreated, mental illnesses create victims. But mental illness is as treatable as the common cold. It may be more permanent, but you are never alone and you are never unloved. Please talk to someone you trust, a professional, or both. I wonder how different my life would look if I had picked up a phone instead of a razor all those years ago.

To my friends who support Bell Let's Talk Day ... thank you! I cried happy tears today when a friend sent every text message one word at a time, racking up the nickels for mental health support. Together, we can end the stigma. And we will. 💝