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My Doctor's Visit

 

I had my annual physical yesterday, August 1, 2014.  I planned a big surprise for my doctor.

For years, she had said to me that my weight was problematic. She suggested various medications to help with the abnormalities in my system created by my poor eating habits, lack of exercise, increasing weight, and high stress level. However, my body reacted adversely to medical interventions.

I was experiencing more and more physical problems that began to interfere with my ability to function. My health was deteriorating. I knew that I had to do something or there would be serious consequences; but I could not get motivated.

I had a tremendous amount of stress in my life, and I was the one person in my family that everyone depended upon to help them physically, psychologically, emotionally, and financially. I was even having trouble socially. I did not want to always burden friends with my problems, and I began to clam up.


Short of breath, physically uncomfortable (and often having leg and back pain), clothes tight and getting tighter, I still could not get myself to change. Not even my son's wedding motivated me. I purchased a gorgeous large-size outfit (notice, I cannot even mention the size). By the time the summer wedding arrived, the ensemble was too tight. I was quite uncomfortable being the center of attention at the wedding in that condition.

My stress level from my family's problems became unbearable. Terminal illnesses, critical illnesses, financial issues, family crisis, stolen identity issues, a stalker creating chaos, and other family crisis made me think that I had had enough of the world. I even dreamed of dying but worried that without my assistance, all those depending on me would not survive. Yet, I was still not motivated to do something about my weight.

I met a young woman who came from a dysfunctional family setting. She felt that she hated her mother and could not forgive her. I suggested to the girl that she had to come to some kind of resolution for her peace of mind. If she did not come to a resolution with her mother and her mother became ill or died, she would have a lot of unresolved issues to deal with. I had had to resolve some issues with my mother. My mother later developed Alzheimer's Disease. If I had not resolved the issues, it would have been that much harder for my mother and myself as she became more and more dependent upon me. I relayed this to the young woman. She still felt she could not forgive or resolve.

I decided to write a story to show this young girl what a resolution but not forgiveness could look like. Writing helped me mend too. I could express anything I wanted while I wrote. I needn't burden friends with unhappy experiences or feelings; I had another outlet. When I wrote my first novel (The Pinning), I felt the reader could not take too much negativity so I included a side line, an espionage story and humor. But my second book (Behind Closed Doors) let out my raw feelings. Writing started to take away some of my oppressed feelings.

Then one of my many big stresses ended. I had been the guardian of my mother who was going through the horrors of Alzheimer's Disease. I sat vigil by my mother's bedside for 3 miserable days--watching her suffer as her body fluids slowly asphyxiated her.(At the end of Alzheimer's, she could not remember how to swallow properly and liquids got into the lungs instead of passing down her throat to her esophagus. Pneumonia developed.)I remember the horrible sounds and the foaming at the mouth. Death had been a relief for her.

I had many excuses for my weight problem primarily centering on the fact that I had too many stresses in my life. Food was comforting to me. I enjoyed food even though sometimes I overate and felt physical distress from it. My life was out of control. No matter what I did, the crisis would always thicken. I was always needed more and more.

Strange as it seems, I felt I had control when I ate. I was eating sweets and fats and loving the taste of food. I was having some kind of enjoyment in life. This was my way to cope with stress and make me feel better.

When my mother died, it was one big stress off my shoulders. No more financial worries about her care. No more emotional drain--watching this shell of a person with no quality of life. No more fighting with caregivers to take better care. This stress relief should have helped me stop eating so much, but it did not.

Then the crisis in the family and other stresses heightened. It was becoming too difficult to function. I could not sleep, I was forgetting appointments. I was worried about driving--afraid I would fall asleep at the wheel. Eating was not even feeling like a comforter.

If eating would not comfort stress and nothing would lower my stress (even elimination of some of the stress), I had to find some other way to cope. Writing did help. Walking did help.

I was too heavy to exercise or walk without being short of breath. Since writing gave me comfort, every item that went into my mouth was jotted down. I started to write how I felt as I was eating. I noted from my writing that eating to comfort myself did not help me sleep nor did it seem to help my stress in the long run. I started to get more in touch with my body.

I decided to try dieting and see what it did for me. The first thing I did on the diet was to omit night time snacking. It was not helping me sleep. Television only increased my need for food; all those subliminal food images. Instead of TV, I sat in front of a computer and wrote. Writing gave me comfort.

Next, I eliminated all snacking during the day. Then I limited the number of servings I ate. Then I limited the amounts of each food to serving sizes recommended on labels. I kept writing down my emotional and physical feelings. I continued getting in touch with my body. If I was hungry, I would have two servings of starches rather than one and increase my serving size of protein. Eventually, I was able to lower the number of servings and portion sizes without feeling hungry. I weighed myself daily.

As I lost weight, my shortness of breath dissipated. I decided to exercise and walk. But, I started hitting plateaus in my weight loss. I often wanted to quit this new pattern of eating.

My son suggested that I draw up a graph to follow my weight loss so I could see the pattern and be more in touch with my body. I noted that I go up in weight almost 3 pounds, go down a little, go up a little, go down a little, level out at the original weight for five days and then lose a few pounds. This pattern repeated with regularity. Each cycle, I ended up losing a little more than when the cycle originated. Recognizing that plateaus were natural and predictable, I was not depressed with them.

I began to set goals. The first goal was that I would be 45 pounds thinner the next time I had my annual physical with my primary care doctor.

At my physical, my doctor was surprised and asked me what motivated me to diet. She wanted to share this motivation with her other patients. I said I was short of breath and having difficulty functioning. I had to come to the realization the stress in my life was not eliminated by my overeating. Likewise, overeating was not a source of comfort for my stress.

I have set two new goals. I will lose 50 pounds by the time I run a Mah Jongg tournament in September 2014 and 80 pounds by December 31, 2014 when my husband retires.

 

 

Next blog will be on exercise.

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