July 4th Thoughts

On July fourth of last year I went for a drive after most of the local fireworks were finished. I drove about 20 minutes north of my home and got stuck into traffic of another fireworks display finishing. I was at an intersection and some ass yelled at me, "Hey you fat ass (or ***** or something like that) let me f*cking in." I responded something or other and then he yelled and called me fat again. I proceeded to drive away and call a friend. M. was just so nice to listen to me rant, but I had to pull over because I was crying so hard. I was already approved for the surgery and was all of 15 days away...and it wasn't the first time I had ever been yelled at...but for whatever reason, it hit me. And I cried. Weight is something that has been with me all my life and something I have always struggles with daily. My parents had the pre-cursor to this surgery when I was a little girl. It worked with my mom; she has kept off over 100 pounds in over 25 years. Dad, well, he is a different story. He gained and gained and gained. He kept cheating the system by drinking things with sugar and over stuffing himself. And I was always told I would be so pretty if I was just skinnier. I got teased for being the fat girl, iceballs were thrown and comments that you wouldn't say to anyone else....and you know, they all stung. Very, very rarely would I actually cry though. That is why this incident stands out so very much. I was taking action in my life by having this surgery and I had been dieting for months and here this imbecile who was a jackass, whom I didn't know, had stung me to the core. I was so scared of the upcoming time and how I was going to change and how would I fit in with everyone when I was smaller. I had no idea what was in store for me during the next eleven months. I have had a horrible time reconciling myself to myself. I didn't know how to identify with anything but fat. I was the fat girl; it's how I described myself to everyone. It was such a part of my consciousness I didn't know how to separate myself from that. I can remember the first time I looked down at my hands a couple months after surgery and just burst into tears because the hands that were attached to me were not MY hands. They were some other person's, but they were NOT mine. The first time I went shopping and fit into smaller clothes, I was elated and had to call my mom to celebrate from the dressing room. But then while walking to the car I began to cry and kept crying. Again, I didn't know who I was going to become when I was smaller and I was terrified. I spiraled into a horrible mood that no one knew about. I didn't talk to anyone about the fighting that I did with myself for feeling like a hypocrite. I thought I had been happy when I was at my largest and now here I was getting smaller and liking what I looked like, but I couldn't do that because then I wasn't being true to the me I used to be in the past. It is a convoluted circle that was eating me up and leaving me on the ground, spent and tired. I removed myself from social situations. I stopped creating any art or music. Worst of all, I stopped reading. None of these signals made me realize anything. I finally grasped the fact that I was in a depression when I was crying myself to sleep every evening without comprehending WHY I was having these fits. I did take action. I went back into therapy to try and get a grip on the new body that was emerging since surgery. I was angry with anyone who said I looked good. I was still angry with myself; for liking the new clothes, for feeling like I took an easy way out, for practically anything that I could blame myself for. I was in therapy for over two months and I still wasn't making any progress. I was still crying, angry, upset, and furious with everyone around me. The people that I loved most were being yelled at or used as a hankie all depending on the day. I asked if I should go on depression meds and was told that it couldn't hurt. I was beyond apprehensive. I didn't want to depend on chemicals to give me balance. I didn't want to be on these drugs for the rest of my life. I certainly didn't know how it was going to affect me. I did talk to friends who had been on depression drugs and did research and finally came to the conclusion that it was going to be the best thing, in the long run, for me to try to help myself. I went to the doctor. I brought up the thoughts of depression drugs and could not help it as tears streamed down my eyes. This man has known me for a good sixteen plus years and has never seen me cry. He thought that I should try them as soon as I could in order to help me control these revolting emotions. I did try them. They did lift this terrible veil of sadness. I did continue to go to therapy, until recently, that is. I decided that it was time to stop. I have learned the tools that I need in order to cope with the transformation that I have traveled through in the past year. I am not angry with the people around me for complementing me on the way I look or how I seem to be smiling more often. I can look at my hands and know that they are mine, yet still feel a bit surreal because there are bones coming out of my wrists! I don't cry after I try on clothes and I can even feel like I am not a hypocrite. I can enjoy what my body has morphed into without feeling guilty for enjoying this new body. I am still Michelle. I am not a skinny person or a fat person. I am just Michelle. I am not defined any longer by what my physicality shows. I am composed of knowledge, understanding, caring and love. I blend into crowds - not the biggest, yet not the smallest. I am just one of the crowd that is until the moment I open my mouth! I am introspective because it is close to a year since the surgery and the incident on the fourth of July was the last painful memory I have associated with being vast sort of person. I still feel the sting of tears when I think of that incident. It still hurts me that perfect strangers can be so cruel. I can't imagine speaking so rudely to anyone, especially a stranger. However, I am so much stronger than the person I was a year ago. I went through surgery. I overcame a depression that amplified every other insecurity that had plagued me all my life. I survived a rapid change that has altered my body and the way I think. You know what, though, I am still me. Warts and all and for the first time in a long time, I am happy with just that.

Hi Michelle - thanks for sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings with us. I'm sure you'll find you're not alone in feeling like you've been taken over by an alien life form. It's quite an adjustment for all of us. I find that when I catch my reflection in a store window or mirror, I'm amazed that it's me. I tell myself how blessed I am to have had this surgery, and I pray I never return to the fat woman I had been for so long. She was so unhappy and miserable. I too have wondered about taking a drug for depression. I find I normally seem to see the glass as half empty and probably going to be completely empty really soon. This will probably sound weird, but I hesitate because I don't want to gain any weight and I've heard that Prozac or Paxil, etc. will cause weight gain. I certainly don't have any sucidal thoughts, just kind of down in the dumps and some obsessive-complusive stuff going on. Oh well, I didn't mean to talk too much about me, I just wanted you to know that you're not alone... Please let us know how you're doing... Hugs, Nancy -116

Nancy: Not that I am pushing anti-depressants or anything but look into Wellbuterin. It actually has an appetite suppressant side effect. I have been taking it with no weight gain. Due to the absorption issues I take the regular acting 2x a day inplace of the long acting. Check it out on the web & ask your Dr. Take Care, Chryssie

That you for sharing your story. My heart really reached out to you when I read it. I know you are on the right path now, and hope you feel comfortable in this July group to lean on us when and if you ever need to. Ileana