How do you feel?

I often hear the statement "you must feel SO much better."  Wow, define "better" if you would, please.  Do I have a stamina for physical activity I lacked at 326 pounds?  Without a doubt!  Do I feel less ashamed by my appearance, especially when meeting new people or seeing people I haven't seen for years?  For sure!  Am I relieved to not be the proverbial (and literal, it felt like) elephant in the room while being totally invisible all at the same time?  You bet!

But do I feel better?  That's a loaded question in my world.  You see, I feel.  I feel deeply.  I feel pain.  I feel the pain of fibromyalgia.  I feel the pain of a mental illness.  I feel the pain of being a trauma survivor.  Losing nearly half of my weight... well, that doesn't change those "feels."  In fact, I can no longer try to eat away those feelings.  I can't shove a bag of candy down my throat in an attempt to turn off feeling all of that.  There is no box of cookies to numb that.

Losing nearly half of my body weight doesn't make me able to work again.  It doesn't shut off all the reasons I became disabled in the first place.  It's easy to assume, and I choose to presume a very innocent thing to tell me how much better I must be feeling.  But if I'm being honest, this is probably the hardest thing I've ever done, so in some ways I feel worse.  This isn't an easy fix - none of it is.

I know around any corner is a monster waiting to steal from me.  Not in the physical sense.  Not having my wallet taken or my car broken into.  But stress is a thief.  For me, stress is a direct arrow shooting towards a decline in my mental health.  Stress is everywhere and I work hard to manage it, but I remain aware of the damage it can do to me in no time flat.

I don't harbor ill feelings towards anyone who says that to me, who assumes I'm "fixed" because of having lost so much weight.  I walk away frustrated by the ignorance our society holds regarding so many of the issues I had at my highest weight.... issues that didn't disappear when the weight did.

I work with a trainer twice a week.  Do I feel like getting up and going to work out?  Not usually.  I don't feel energetic enough lately to get out of bed and pushing my body to its limits.  In fact, I'd rather do just about anything before going to that gym.  But I do it.  It doesn't feel good.  I do it because I know I need to.  I do it because I've worked too hard to gain back the weight I've lost.

This may sound like a bit of a pity party and it's not - I assure you.

I will say that at my highest weight, getting up in front of a group of people to work my direct sales business felt more overwhelming than there are words in the English language to describe.  I have gained confidence - both from losing weight and from having a successful business.  But let me define success - because it's not the same for any individual who's reading this.  For me, working my business, staying an active Consultant, helping people - that is success.  I was a social worker.  It's in my blood to help people.  Now helping just looks different than it did.  I help people find solutions to problems.  I help a local food bank or cancer center by doing a fundraiser.  That...that is success.  Will I ever be able to go as far in my education as I'd hoped?  It's not likely.  I was going to get my PsyD, possibly simultaneously getting my JD so I could be an advocate for those who can't advocate for themselves.  But because of my chronic illnesses, furthering my education is unlikely.  I have had to redefine success.  I want to inspire people, help people, prompt positive change in people.  That is success for me.

Has my weight loss story been a successful one (if you'll allow me to use the word in a different context)?  I'd like to think so.  In fact, exactly one month from today I'm scheduled to go in for a panniculectomy to have excess skin removed from my abdomen, pending insurance approval (praying for insurance approval).  A surgeon doesn't even consider that procedure if someone hasn't been successful in their weight loss journey.  It's a long and tedious operation.  It carries some risk.  But he sees it as a good thing for me.  He feels confident that insurance will approve the surgery.  Am I at my goal weight yet?  Not exactly, although I'm a matter of a few pounds away from being HALF of what I was.  I'll lose a few pounds of skin and that's a good thing.  I don't have pictures to show since I last wrote.  In fact, I've had a few difficult weeks and have put some food in my body that's not ideal.  I won't get on the scale.  I won't let those few bad weeks define my journey...my success.  But this surgery feels like the next step.

So, I hope you accept my honesty and bluntness.  But know that assuming anyone feels "so much better" because of no longer being super obese (the actual BMI category when my number was over 54) isn't a safe assumption.  There was more to me than my 326 pounds and there is still so much more to me than my 167 pounds.

Do I feel better?  That's complicated.