Leaves and Branches

I thought I had prepared myself for the emotional aspects of this journey, well partially at least. I knew this was going to be difficult and I would have to face a lot of self-doubt and fear in order to move forward. The one thing that I was not prepared for was the vulnerability I have been feeling.

The past few weeks have been highly emotional. I find myself taking things more to heart and when something is bothering me I start to fixate on it until I can find a resolution and in some cases there is none. . . It’s becoming really annoying. Things that shouldn’t be getting to me have become huge deals and I am bothered that I am bothered!! For the most part I have been feeling good and optimistic but when things come up I just cannot shake the “blue” feeling. I am not really referring to anything specifically. I think it’s just my overall emotional state at this point.

I found this very interesting info at Coping.Org under their “tools for personal growth” and apparently the emotions I have been feeling are pretty typical for someone on a journey like mine. I found the following points were pretty spot on to what I am going through right now:

Vulnerability is:

• Feeling of being fragile, weak, or susceptible to emotional pain and suffering.
• Opening of yourself to the possibility of growing as a person in your emotional and spiritual dimensions.
• Allowing of oneself to search and probe the past for hidden or unresolved emotions, feelings, or grief responses that lie at the root of current immobilized emotions, feelings, or actions.
• Trying out of new behavior traits, attitudes, or beliefs in the pursuit of personal growth.
• Unrelenting pursuit of truth and clarity about self through the requesting, encouraging, and welcoming of honest feedback about oneself, even if such feedback is negative.
• Willingness to take chances and try new experiences, challenges, or activities even though the outcome is unsure.

It also goes on to outline how and why people avoid feeling vulnerable and the benefits of allowing yourself to be vulnerable. It seems to me that vulnerability and change go hand in hand. Change is hard whether it is welcome or not. In order to change it is often necessary to strip away everything in an effort to find something hidden under the layers good enough to build upon. Aside from the emotional aspect, habits are extremely difficult to break. I was once told that a habit, good or bad, needs at least 21 days to take affect. I am not sure the truth behind this but it is somewhat telling. We are resistant to change.

I believe that as a generality we all crave security. We all want to know what’s around the corner and if maintaining the status quo helps to assure that no real surprises arise then so be it. We plod along hoping that things don’t get shaken up. But what if your status quo is unhealthy? Whether it be a lifestyle issue, like my own, or being in an abusive relationship, or just being unhappy in general- then change is necessary and ultimately will be freeing.

I am hoping that these feelings subside soon but I am trying my best to understand them and learn from them. I reread a passage in my favorite book last night as a reminder to let little things go. In Musashi, Eiji Yoshikawa tells the tale of Musashi Miyomoto, arguably Japan’s most famous swordsman known for his unique style of using both his katana (long sword) and wakizashi (short sword). In my favorite chapter called The Circle Musashi is seeking words of wisdom from the priest Gudo and vows to follow him day and night until he shares just one word of wisdom to help him on his path to enlightenment. After weeks of following him he arrives at the gate of a temple with a sign, the last three lines read:

“Like our great predecessors,

Do not merely pinch off the leaves

Or concern yourself only with the branches.”

And the passage continues:

“Musashi reread the last two lines. Leaves and branches… How many people were thrown off course by irrelevant matters? Was he himself not an example? While the thought seemed to lighten his burden, his doubts would not go away. Why would his sword not obey him? Why did his eyes wander from his goal? What prevented him from achieving serenity?

Somehow it all seemed so unnecessary. He knew that it was when one had pursued the Way as far as possible that vacillation set in and one was attacked by fretfulness– leaves and branches. How did one get at the core and destroy it?”

Musashi finally catches up with Gudo hoping for the words to ease his turmoil. Musashi knelt and closed his eyes and the priest simply drew a circle around him and walked away. At first Musashi was incensed that the priest would not help him until he looked down at the circle.

“A perfectly round line, no beginning, no end, no deviation. If expanded infinitely, it would become the universe. If contracted, it would become coequal with the infinitesimal dot in which his soul resided. His soul was round. The universe was round. Not two. One. One entity– himself and the universe.

With a click, he drew his sword and held it out diagonally. His shadow resembled the symbol for “o”. The universal circle remained the same. By the same token, he himself was unchanged. Only the shadow had changed.

‘Only a shadow’, he thought ‘The shadow is not my real self.’ The wall against which he had been beating his head was a mere shadow, the shadow of his confused mind.

He raised his head and a fierce shout broke from his lips.

With his left hand, he held out his short sword. The shadow changed again, but the image of the universe– not by one whit. The two swords were but one. And they were part of the circle.”

He ran off to apologize to the priest but he stopped and thought:

“It’s only leaves and branches.”

I read Musashi in 2001. I finished it shortly after the radiation treatment for my cancer. I adopted the saying “Leaves and Branches” to help me through the tough times and repeat it to myself often. I still use it to this day, if you’ve ever received an email from me it is the quote I use as my signature. I need to remember it now more than ever and borrow from the strength it once gave me. The good and bad aspects of this journey are all part of “the circle.”

What’s Your Mount Everest?

I noticed that the red light on my blackberry was blinking just before I went to bed last night. That light is always blinking between my personal and work emails I can easily receive about 80 a day. On the weekends it’s normally pretty tame, just sales emails from vendors or the occasional workaholic project manager. But as a habit I check it every time I notice it that frantic light. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I received a comment on my latest blog entry. Normally, all my comments come from family and friends (all of which of which are greatly appreciated) but this one came from a man named Jake Norton. Jake is an accomplished climber who has conquered Everest twice, McKinley once, and Kilimanjaro three times! He is also a photographer, motivational speaker, and keeps The MountainWorld Blog. In fact, he felt so inspired by my journey that he dedicated an entry in his blog to me and my story! Needless to say, I am incredibly flattered and honored that a person such as himself took the time to write about me. So, Jake, thank you so much for encouragement and words of wisdom… maybe one day I can join you in climbing an actual mountain!

In Jake’s blog he writes,

“We all have our own Everest, a metaphorical mountain we need or want to climb in our lives. These mountains take many shapes – some are mental, such as building self esteem, dealing with mental trauma. Other Everests take the financial form: buying a house (or selling one in the current climate), starting a business, retiring, putting kids through college. Some people are climbing physical mountains as they fight back from and injury or disease.”

Which brings me to a point I have been meaning to write about for some time now… Mount Everest as metaphor. Back in January I started researching weight loss and I read one tip that said to set a goal for the amount of weight I would like to lose. I immediately thought ‘well, I need to lose about… half of me!’ Once that number crept into my head I just couldn’t shake it. I became discouraged at the thought of losing such a daunting amount of weight and it popped in my head ‘it’s like trying to climb Mount Everest!!’ At the time when those initial thoughts came to me Mount Everest was the most impossible feat I could think of. But once I really thought about it, it occurred to me that Mount Everest has been scaled and more than once by exceptional people like Jake Norton. I realized that with the proper amount of determination anything is possible and I needed only to look to the strength I already possessed to attain my goal.

In my 28 years on this planet I have seen my fair share of struggle. A lonely childhood, the loss of my stepfather at 19 followed immediately by the death of my estranged father at 20, being diagnosed with cancer when I was 21, learning that I cannot naturally conceive a child at 26, and after much effort losing a much-wanted pregnancy later that same year just to name a few. However, I know that losing this weight will be my greatest struggle to date. Much of what I have been through just happened to me whether I was ready for it or not and I was thrust into situations that demanded me to step up. But I am knowingly and willingly taking on this struggle and knowing the strength I have been able to muster in the past, I know I can beat this. And in doing so, I know that once I reach my goal it will be my hardest fought battle and my proudest accomplishment.

We all have that one goal that seems so far out of our reach that they appear impossible. It’s only those who push away the self-doubt and fear that can reach the summit of their mountain and become extraordinary. So, what’s your Mount Everest?

Scaling the Mountain

On my journey thus far I have had some major swings in my approach. In the beginning, I was so caught up on how high the mountain was that I stopped at the foothills feeling defeated before I ever reached the base of My Mount Everest. Once I finally made it to the mountain and took the first step I found myself constantly looking back to see how far I’d gone only to be discouraged by what I perceived to be lack of progress. When I finally refrained from incessantly checking my progress, I once again started focusing how far up ahead the summit is. Now that I had some momentum I put it into high gear hoping that my efforts would push me further up the mountain in half the time. That approach resulted in extreme fatigue and actually hurt my effort. I am now clinging to the side of the mountain and reevaluating my game plan.

I have been seeing my nutritionist since March 18th. During the three months I have been on this program, I have had lots of excuses as to why I haven’t committed myself 100% and I can honestly say that I have not a full 2 week stretch where I was committed enough not to “cheat” in one way or another. To be fair, during this time I did have surgery to remove my gallbladder which required a recovery time that would not allow me to follow the meal plan or exercise due to changes in my appetite and healing. Since I have yet to have a good consecutive timespan on the program I haven’t seen much weight loss. However, I have lost a ton of weight off my shoulders.

Through these early stages of my journey I have learned a lot about myself. I have learned just how far I can push myself and what to do when I hit a wall. I have learned where my struggles started and that coming to terms with these origins is the first step in overcoming life-long attitudes. I have learned that I will stumble and want to quit and that I possess the strength to dust myself off and appreciate a bruise or two. I have cried and stomped my feet just as much, if not more, than I have soared during this time. I think the most important and most difficult lesson I’m learning is I am not perfect nor will I ever be. So, to strive for perfection is detrimental to what I am trying to accomplish. I need to be easier on myself when I fall “off the wagon” because the more time I sit in the dirt crying and cursing myself for being stupid enough to fall, the further away that wagon gets and it becomes harder to catch up with it!

This blog has become an invaluable tool for me. It is forcing me to really think about my situation and in doing so I am finding clarity. All my readers comments, emails, and phone calls are greatly appreciated and your support is sincerely motivating me on my way. Somehow, this task seems less daunting knowing that I have such an amazing family and friends routing for me. So, keep the comments coming, it’s surprising how such a tiny gesture can be so meaningful.

Today Will Be a Better Day

So, when I wrote about my workout plan for this week on Sunday I spoke a little too soon. I actually ended up skipping three days in a row and today was my first day working out this week. This has been a really tough week for me.

Sunday- We were catching up on our Netflix and I got lazy… nothing fancier than that. I decided to make chili and just hang out with the husband instead of listening to Bob Harper yell at me to “hop!” during those god-forsaken jumping lunges.

Monday- When I got home from another manic Monday, I made a conscious decision to skip my workout and I went straight to the shower. I am not sure what was wrong with me but I just felt out of sorts. After I finished my shower I helped Ebi & Kai onto the bed so they can eat their dinner, yes they eat on the bed. Like their Momma, they are on a doctor-prescribed diet and I have to watch them to make sure they aren’t sneaking each other’s morsels… thinking about it I should probably talk to the vet about much longer they need to be on their food Ebi was down to 7.6 lbs and Kai was 5.1 lbs the last time we took them in back in April… but I digress. Although, the rest of this story is fur-baby related. So, as I was doing my after shower routine I notice that Kai is acting funny and his paw looked stuck in his collar. I looked closer to see that he was not stuck but he had stiffened up and was having a seizure. This was only the second seizure he’s had, his first was in April. When he took him into the vet then they ran tests and found nothing that could have caused it. The vet said that it would be the “wiring” in his brain and to watch him, if it happened again within 2-3 weeks we should take him back in and consider epilepsy medication. We watched and he has been fine up until now. He is doing well and acting like his normal sweet self again but I cannot tell you how scary and heartbreaking it is to see him go through that. We are just watching him now and will have to take him to the vet if it happens again soon.

Tuesday- I had every intention on working out yesterday then I had my appointment with my nutritionist. After what I considered a “great week” last week I had my weigh in and BIA only to discover that I gained 3 lbs- 1 lb of muscle and 2 lbs of fat. Apparently, doubling my workouts last week did not help me in anyway. In fact, I wasn’t taking in enough calories to fuel those workouts and it all worked against me. So, we came home and I moped all night.

I woke up this morning repeating my new mantra “Today will be a better day” over and over in my head. The way I see it everyday can be a better day whether yesterday so extraordinary or just plain sucky. So, I set out to have a great day. By lunch time “Today will be a better day” was replaced with “Why can’t this day end already!” This weight loss journey has been incredibly emotional and intense for me as can be evidenced by what you have been reading in this blog. I am learning so much about myself and the reasoning behind my unhealthy habits and to be quite frank, it is painful. So, I spent my whole lunch hour crying and falling apart while poor Ramses was attempting to enjoy his turkey burger.

Despite how tough this week has been and how emotional I was today I managed to have the best single day on the program that I have had since the first week. I hit all my targets, had all my shakes, I did not exceed my portions , and I worked out! Although, I did decide to save level 2 exercises for next week. I figure that I shouldn’t push it too much considering the struggles I’ve already encountered this week.

So, I guess today was a better day after all.

Working It Out

“We cannot stop at the foothills when Everest lies ahead.”

-Ronald Reagan

In January of this year I convinced my husband that 2008 was the year for us to get in shape by proclaiming, “let’s make ‘08… Great!” or some other such cheesiness, I can’t help it sometimes. Oh and when I say “convinced” I mean forced him to start working out in hopes that he would inspire me to do the same. Shortly after he was thoroughly “convinced” he started training with Kevin, a former coworker and current friend who had just started his own personal training business. After a couple weeks of watching him come home tired and sore I decided that I, too, needed to be tired and sore *shrugs*. It was odd to hear him talk about his workouts and how much he was pushing himself. Up until this point he and I have always shared the same experiences and interests. We do everything together and like nearly all the same things (except Star Wars, I know this will make me incredibly unpopular with the nerd sect but I’ve tired and I just cannot board that Millennium Falcon.) So listening to him explain the exercises and moan about his poor muscles was all Greek to me. I realized I couldn’t relate to that, hell, the only time I was ever really sore was after walking all day at an amusement park! So, I started reading and researching what the best workouts were for obese people.

My head and heart are far more capable than my actual body. Running is out of the question, my knees and shins just won’t let me… I cannot even do jumping jacks without a lot of pain and discomfort. In the past, I enjoyed taking morning walks but I learned early on that being “too tired” to get up early was far too easy an excuse. Then there was the option of walking in the evenings but unless I scheduled those walks for after it got dark my self-consciousness would stop me from parading out in front of all the neighbors… stupid, I know, but an issue nonetheless. Also, I wanted something that was a bit more well-rounded than just walking. It wasn’t long before we purchased an array of exercise aides, DVD’s, and an expensive recumbent bike. I choose a recumbent bike because I had read in various places that a recumbent bike is great for very large people since it offers more support than a standard stationary bike. I used the bike once and quickly realized that I shouldn’t believe everything I read! I learned that exercise is not one size fits all. Since I have short legs and a big tummy I didn’t quote fit right into the machine. I found myself struggling to reach the pedals properly and moved the seat forward but in doing so my stomach got in the way of being able to move my knees in a comfortable way. I did six miles and paid dearly for it. My knees were in so much pain that I was unable to work out the rest of the week.

It turns out that one exercise routine that was enjoyable, challenging, and motivating were $12 The Biggest Loser DVD’s: Cardio Max and Power Sculpt (which by the way are on sale for $9 now so if you are looking for a great workout, buy them now!) It was surprising to me that with a garage filled with exercise equipment including a treadmill, an elliptical, a plethora of weights and boxing gear, and now a recumbent bike that it was a simple DVD that got me to work out! The DVD’s are set up to increase in intensity every 2-3 weeks within 3 different levels. After 2-3 weeks you add another level which adds 10 more minutes of more intense movements.

After my gallbladder surgery I started my workouts over again at level 1. I alternate the DVD’s 6 days a week, so 3 days cardio and 3 days sculpting. After my first week back I decided to try and increase the amount of time I was working out. So, last week I did both cardio and sculpting everyday for 6 days. I was very proud of myself for sticking with it but I was exhausted. I thought that I may be doing something wrong so yesterday I spoke with Ramses’ trainer. He told me that it sounded like I was over-training and it would be a good idea to go back to my old schedule but focus more on the intensity of each exercise and pay close attention to my form. So starting today I am going to do level 2 cardio Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday then level 2 sculpting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It makes tons of sense that I was overexerting myself. When I first started working out prior to my gallbladder attack and surgery my workouts were giving me lots of energy and I felt great but after a week of doubling my workouts I was left feeling drained and struggling to stay awake past 7pm! So, thanks, Kevin! You’re awesome! I will report back after another week on the new schedule.

I have had lots of speed bumps on my road to finding an exercise plan that works for me, in fact, I am still working out the kinks. I can say, however, that I know a change has taken place within me because in the past I would have thrown my hands up and thought ‘nothing will work for me, I’m too big!’ But I didn’t. I hiked up the foothills in order to make it to the base of my Mt. Everest. =)

Hayward

Every morning I would wake up to my Mother’s pillow turned lengthwise and pressed against my back—a poor substitute if you ask a four-year-old. She would leave well before I woke up in the morning to get to her job at the Naval Exchange in Oakland. We lived with my Father’s parents in a built-on addition to the rear of their house. The addition consisted of a small living area with two lounge chairs and a television and a slightly separate sleeping area with one full bed that I shared with my Mom and a twin bed for my sister. Those two rooms were where I spent the majority of my early childhood.

My grandparents, Papa and Lola, came from the Philippines about 10 years before and brought all eight of their children over to the States. Many of them also lived in the house, some with their own families, however, my interaction with them as limited. I was forbidden from other parts of the house and according to Papa, “See child, no hear child”. I was the first born grandchild and I was horribly sheltered. They called me their little “Mestiza” or “half-breed girl” although the term was loving on their part it made me keenly aware that I was different from them. Not only was I light-skinned and my Asian features softer in comparison to my Filipino family, I was never recognized as my Mother’s daughter because I looked like a “China Doll” and this was far before it became fashionable for white American women to adopt from Asia.

To exacerbate the issue the one person that should have been easiest to relate to was my sister, however, she was my half-sister and 9 years older than me. She had no idea what it was like for me and she beside that she was having enough difficulty of her own. Papa had a hard time excepting a child into his home that was not blood. He was terribly strict with her and she was constantly reminded that she was not Filipino. Lola on the other hand was always very sweet and gentle with her although she had no voice in the strictly Patriarchal household created but my grandfather.

In a house filled to the roof with family I have very few memories of them. The house was empty during the day except for me and Lola. She spent her day in the kitchen cooking and I spent my day watching Special Delivery, Pinwheel, and Sesame Street. The only time I would see her was when I passed through the kitchen to get to the bathroom and when she would serve my meals—my favorite was Ramen noodles with rice at the bottom of the bowl hidden beneath the broth. I soon learned to love meal time because she would gently call me, “Karen… come eat, Sweetie.” I would go to the dining room table where she would lift me into a chair and pat me on the head. Meals were the only time I had any fleeting interactions with other people during the day. Although I ate alone, I treasured the brief moments I got to share with my grandmother. She rarely spoke with me but despite our lack of a bond I knew she loved me and she cared deeply for me.

She was beautiful, jet black hair with touches of gray beginning to streak through and lighter-skinned than the rest of the family because we had a little Chinese mixed with her Filipino blood. Her smooth skin was starting to wrinkle and she was starting to show her age. Though her body was aging her eyes remained vibrant. She practically lived in the kitchen standing over the stove. Her only escape from the hot kitchen was when she was hanging laundry out on the clothesline.

One of my first childhood memories was sitting in front of the window over my sister’s bed and watching the rain for a week straight. I would crack the window just a smidge to listen to the rain drops and smell the sweet air. I wanted to go out and play in the puddles so badly but I was strictly prohibited from being out in the yard and definitely not in the rain. Finally, the rain let up and Lola was able to hang that week’s laundry on the line. The towels she hung were dripping wet and the sun caught each drop creating a sparkling rain shower. I watched from the sliding glass door in the dining room and quietly slid the door open and snuck out on the wooden porch. As I was gently shutting the door I noticed an unneeded umbrella propped against the wall. So, I took it and ran to the clothesline. I hastily opened the umbrella and stepped under the dripping towels. The sound of drip-drop was so exciting and soon I was dancing under the clothesline to the rhythm of the “raindrops”. As the droplets started to slow I saw my grandmother run out and my heart sank, I knew I was in trouble. Instead she pulled the Polaroid camera from behind her back, snapped a picture, and laughed. She then took my hand and led me back inside the house, carefully placing the umbrella back against the wall.

Later that evening after my grandfather got home from work he sat in his regular spot, at the head of the dining table with both his feet on the chair, more like squatting on the chair rather than sitting on the chair. He kept an ashtray on the table with a Zippo lighter covered in ashes nestled in it. There are always a lit cigarette resting in the tray that he would take an occasional drag from while he ate his evening bowl of rice with his hands. My tiny adventure had tickled my grandmother so much that she was anxious to show Papa what a cute thing I did that day. She told him something in Tagalog and softly smiled. He took one look at the picture and tossed it back on the table and proceeded to reprimand my grandmother for taking me in the yard so soon after the rain and without any shoes. She sat silently and apologized. She never told him I sneaked out on my own.

Finding the Will

“Technique and ability alone do not get you to the top; it is the willpower that is the most important. This willpower you cannot buy with money or be given by others…it rises from your heart”

- Junko Tabei, 1975 after becoming the first woman to climb Everest.

Willpower. . . not exactly a concept I am that familiar with. I am a rather impulsive person. Well, I am a recovering rather impulsive person. I am not a spontaneous person by any means, when I say “impulsive” I mean when it comes to eating… oh, and shopping. Once I sat down and starting evaluating myself I realized that overeating and overspending came from the same place within me. I rarely, if ever, considered my actions before acting. The rush and calm that followed after eating something particularly yummy or buying something that I really “wanted” at the time became addictive. The result? Obesity and credit card debt. Not a winning combo.

When we started the process of purchasing our first home in 2005 we dedicated a year to pay down our debt and clean up our credit and we were very successful. But it took a huge change in our life to motivate us enough to find the willpower in respect to our spending. I needed that goal to take control and change my habits. The goal was in sight and we worked very hard to attain what we wanted. We now have a beautiful home that we are extremely proud of.

That catalyst never presented itself in regards to my weight. It wasn’t until my adult years that being bigger affected me. I was never an athletic child. I was brainy and far more content with a book than a baseball. I was always a littler bigger than my friends but that also meant I got a more “womanly” body before the other girls and boys liked me a lot. . . just ask my husband, I wasn’t your average 13 year old girl. During my “‘tweens” and early teens I was very active and rode horses so my weight never really had a chance to catch up on me. It wasn’t until after I started dated my husband at the tender age of 14 that I started putting on weight. I recall when we first started dating I was a size 9 within 3 years that size doubled.

My husband is a remarkable man. Never once, in our 14 years together, has he ever made my weight an issue. He truly loves me for me. I was the one who took advantage of his unconditional love and “let myself go.” Since he is so considerate of me and my feelings he never brought the weight gain to my attention. Not that he needed to but avoidance loves people who don’t bring attention to things like him. The year before my cancer diagnosis I ballooned. Since the cancer was affecting my thyroid and how it functioned I am sure that part of my weight gain was because of it. My mother likes to tell people I am big because of the cancer, I think she likes to take the blame off of me. However, since the diagnosis I am put on another 35 lbs and with my medication my body is receiving the proper amount of thyroid hormones… so it’s not a “glandular issue” as she likes to put it.

I know that my weight is a direct result of how I deal with my emotions and the time prior to, during, and after my cancer diagnosis was filled with emotions; fear, sadness, anger, confusion, and uncertainty. All of which were overwhelming and too out of my reach to deal with. That’s when the food came into play. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I have had issues with food my entire life, the cancer did not cause this it only exacerbated things. When I was very young I was alone a lot and the only time I had to spend with others was meal times so I learned to love them. After my parents divorced my mother struggled financially. Our diets consisted of whatever was cheapest like Hamburger Helper and something she called “garbahge” (garbage said with a French accent) which consisted of left over canned and frozen foods thrown into a pot, and fast food became a treat and sign of “doing well.” From the ages of 8 to 14 my mother was in a relationship with a very controlling man who took over our lives and made us live by impossible rules. He was unnecessarily tough on me and my mother never stepped in. In acts of “defiance” she would take me to Jack in the Box and we’d have big meals complete with dessert that she forced me to eat in the car since we were expected home at a certain time. We had to make sure we threw out all the trash before we got to our driveway. As sad as that was, those were the only times I felt like my mother and I were “on the same side.”

The more I looked into my childhood, the more I started making correlations between how I grew up and the type of woman I grew up to be. Whenever I think of the past it makes me incredibly sad. By the time I met my husband I made a conscious decision to forget my childhood and focus on the life we started together. Unfortunately, the past had a way of haunting me. I tried to bury my demons but they always came back when I was at my lowest and as much as I hated to admit it I could attempt to forget my memories but the effects they had on me could not be erased. Coming to terms with this has been invaluable in starting this journey.

So how do I find the willpower to pull myself out of these dangerous cycles that have been plaguing me my entire life? Understanding the cycle certainly has helped but I needed something to focus on, something that made me want to care enough about myself to make drastic changes. When it clicked I realized that the answer was so simple yet it eluded me all these years… I want to live a long and fulfilling life.

When I was diagnosed with the cancer my biggest fear was dying, that alone proves that I want to live. I want to live for my husband, for my friends, for my dogs… for myself. I want to live long enough to have children and raise them to be incredible people. I want to live long enough to see the world, or at least the parts that take my breath away when I see them in photographs. I want to live long enough to help others who feel hopeless in their situations, people like me. I want to grow old with my husband so I can see what he looks like with silver hair. I think I deserve that much.

Willpower. . . seems like a simple thing to practice in exchange for a life worth living.

Taking the First Step

After my gallbladder attack I was referred back to my primary care doctor for a referral to a surgeon. During my visit with him he asked, “Why are you so big?” I thought, ‘Hmm… what? Really? You’re are just going to say it like that, huh?’ I meekly replied, “I don’t know.” He then explained to me that my weight was now starting to cause chronic conditions (i.e. the gallstones) so “let’s do something about that” he said. He then asked if I would like to start seeing one of the nutritionists on staff at his office. At this point my head was sort of reeling. No doctor has ever openly addressed my weight and I have seen a lot of doctors. I wasn’t comfortable discussing it because I never had to do so in the past. I am an agreeable person, sometimes to a fault, so without thinking I said “OK, I would be interested in doing that.” They made me an appointment and on the drive home from his office I started crying.

This is an excellent example of why I am obese, I was crying because I was afraid of crying in front of a stranger. I knew that if I started seeing a nutritionist that I would have to talk about my weight and my health history and I know that I was going to cry! Now, if that’s not a tell-tale sign of “having issues” I am not sure what is! I then immediately starting with the excuses and doubt. I thought, ‘OK I am going to go in there and they are just going to try and sell me a bunch of stuff. It’s probably a money-making thing that they run on all the fat patients!’ and I wanted to cancel the appointment before I even went. It was my husband who talked me down. He convinced me that I needed to at least try it and if it was as terrible as I thought then I didn’t have to go back but if it seemed like it would be helpful to me then this could be just what I needed to save my life. That’s my husband, my hero… he’s in the business of saving my life and for that I am forever grateful.

So, March 18, 2008, I had my first appointment with my nutritionist, Jodi. I soon as I meet her I immediately knew that Ramses was right… he’s right more often than I like to admit. Jodi’s warmth, enthusiasm, and great sense of humor made me feel at ease. She is one of those people that you meet for the first time and feel like you’ve known her your whole life. I was weighed in and giving a BIA and she spent well over 2 hours with us explaining the program and what was expected of me. I left feeling empowered and confident.

I now eat 6 times a day and keep a detailed log. I have certain numbers to reach each day in several different food categories. I can’t lie, the first week was very difficult. It took a ton of planning and scheduling and I really missed eating all the junk I was before. I have been on the program for about 2 months and I a happy to report that it has gotten much, much easier. During this 2 month time span I had surgery to have my gallbladder removed and spent the last month eating whatever I wanted. So I am starting again. The surgery knocked me a little back down the mountain but knowing that reaching the point I was at before is possible to achieve I have confidence I will make it back to where I was and further!