Stop saying when...

When am I going to stop sectioning my life off? When am I going to stop holding life off with phrases like..."I will do that...when...I get my excess skin removed." or "I will allow myself that joy...when...I lose my last 15 pounds." Or "I will finally be happy...when...I don't have this deformed looking body."
What is with the "when." Why am I allowing the "whens" to control my life. Why can't I just live every day for what it is, today? Why didn't I shed the self doubt and insecurities when I shed the 130 pounds? Curse you childhood filled with negativity and berating comments telling you you were less than. Does anyone else feel this way? I am so thrilled that I got the call two weeks ago...my insurance is covering my skin removal surgery. This is such a huge huge thing for me. My stomach is a reminder of nothing but bad. No accomplishments there...just regret, embarrassment and shame. I am terrified of the recovery. Terrified. These are going to be the most painful horrendous days of my life. I am afraid of getting depressed. I am afraid of being alone with my thoughts and not being able to get out of my head and possibly sinking back into the world of darkness and sadness I have experienced a few times in my life. I never understood "depression." In fact, when I was in high school I worked as a receptionist for a psychiatry office and had such a bad, dismissive attitude towards the patients who came in blubbering for hours. My thoughts...get over yourself. No one wants to hear about your pity parties. Yea, that was me.
Then after my last baby was born, me, Big Bad Heather, the brute, got hit in the face with a big piece of depression pie. I hit rock bottom. Had postpartum depression plus many issues that had arisen during my pregnancy that I had smothered during the time. Well, they all surfaced their ugly little heads and I fell deeper than I ever knew possible. I had anxiety attacks through the roof. I literally felt like I was coming out of my skin sometimes. It was an utter nightmare. Thankfully, I found a therapist who was amazing. And took anti-depressants for a while. And was finally able to regain my life. 
Then, last year after my gastric bypass I found it happening again. I felt so low. I physically felt like crap and now had no "coping mechanisms" to turn to. No 44oz mountain dew. No enormous bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. (with almonds of course). No second helpings of dinner just because I wanted. I had never considered myself an emotional eater. I just loved to eat. Now I realized I was an emotional eater, just not in the ways most people were. Now here I was sad, alone, scared and in pain. The constant thought that kept overtaking my head..."So yes I was fat, but I was happy fat. What if I become thin and miserable?" Was this worth it? Now of course...a year out, I say ABSOLUTELY...this was worth every tear, every stitch, every complication. Will this be how I feel after having cosmetic surgery. I sure the hell hope so. I think I should probably start on an anti-depressant before the surgery. Because over the past year, instead of being an emotional eater, I have become an emotional exerciser. Now, when I am feeling stressed, anxious, sad, down, happy, energetic...whatever the emotion is, I hit the gym, sweat my saggy ass off and all is better. My head is clear, my body is strong. I feel powerful. But...after this surgery...I can't exercise for at least 8 WEEKS! 8 WEEKS! I am so afraid I am going to come unglued! I will now not only have food to turn to, but I won't have the gym either! How am I going to cope? Any suggestions???? I know this has to happen, for me to stop with the "whens" but I am terrified friends, simply terrified.

So...it has been a crazy hectic week. I have been dying all week to update my blog...but no time! So here we go. I did it!! I completed my first 5K!! Not only did I complete it, but I beat my goal. I told myself if I could finish in under 36 minutes, I would be happy. 34:43 was my official time! BAM! The feeling after crossing that finish line was unimaginable. I have never felt so accomplished in my life. I did something that for me, was physically grueling as well as mentally grueling. The first mile was the hardest. That is the mile where the "You can't do this" monster was sitting on my shoulder telling me I was crazy. Telling me that I was still the fat girl who got tired watching other people exercise. That damn monster controlled 30 years of my life. I will be damned if he gets another minute. So to shut him up I found things to focus on. Whether it was Ludacris in my ear, or the chick in the lime green shirt that I kept pace with, I found small things to distract myself and took it literally inch by inch. I hate running. Like hate it. I'd rather have an episiotomy again, than run. So why do I do this to myself? Why? Because I am learning that I can do anything I put my mind to. I can run a race, I can leg press 200lbs. I can fit in a size 10 jeans. I can say no to unhealthy foods. I can be a better wife, better mom. I can teach people through my mistakes. I can make mistakes yet not allow them to define who I am. I can accept the fact that I am loved, flaws and all. I can and will one day learn to accept myself, all of me.
And that is what I have discovered through running. I don't know if I will continue to run, or if I will find another form of exercise that fills this same need, without physically torturing me. which brings me to the next part of my blog...
I am a lunatic, I know, and this will prove it. When I woke up the day after my race my left foot was killing me. After hobbling around all morning and complaining, I decided to go to the clinic and have it checked out. The doctor said, and I quote: "It appears you have some strained tendons. It is a very common injury among runners." To this...I smiled hugely and said, "Did you just call me a runner??" HaHa! OH MY GOODNESS! I have a sports related injury!!! The only time I have ever incurred a sports related injury was in high school when I high fived my mom after my high school football team made it to the championship game and my acryllic nail ripped off my actual nail and hurt like a mother chucker! But this my friends, this is an athletic injury which by relation means, I am an athlete!!!! This is amazing! So, even though my foot still hurts, especially when I wear shoes, and I might miss my next race this weekend, I LOVE having pushed my body beyond it's normal ability and having my body say "Chick, you're over doing it, slow down." Where as the first 30 years my body was begging me to get off the couch and just do SOMETHING. So that my friend's is how this messed up brain of mine works. 
I am a changed woman. Sometimes I don't even recognize myself. And I am not just talking about my outward appearance...I am talking about the person on the inside. She has a different outlook on life. She sees so much more positive. She takes pride in her appearance and her accomplishments. She has accomplishments! There are so many more things I have to work on, and I have definitely made mistakes along the way, and am still making mistakes. But as the old saying goes, I am a work in progress. And now I am actually working to make that progress.

Best feeling ever

Best feeling in the world? So, we all have a different response for this, but for me, one of the absolute best feelings is knowing that you have made a difference in someone else's life. Last night was my monthly support group meeting down at the U. I love going to these because it is awesome being in a room filled with people that know your struggles, have walked along the same hard path & been down the road of failed diets & harsh criticism. I love hearing about other people's experiences. What they have learned, what helps them. I love sharing my opinions & struggles. I love the genuine smiles on the faces of people when I walk in. 
Last night after the meeting ended, a lady I met at a new patient seminar I spoke at in March came up to me to say hello. She has started the 6 month process to prepare for surgery. She was so excited to see me & told me that because of what I had said when I spoke at the seminar, she decided she did have the strength to go through with this and that she was so excited to change her life. She told me that she thinks of me often on days that she is scared and underestimates herself. Truly, what an honor. It makes me feel so good to hear words like that and to know that I am making a difference. This is my life's calling. I have never had a passion before. I always wanted to have one, something that drives you, picks you up, makes you feel empowered. But before now, nothing ever tickled my fancy. Now, I have a passion & am serious about wanting to work for my program. Become a patient advocate. On staff to answer questions and help those who need it along the way. It is the perfect calling for me. I have virtually pleaded and begged them to give me a job. I am not too proud to beg. I LOVE to talk and the idea of getting paid to do it makes me giddy with excitement. I gotta make this happen! Oprah says if you think about it and want something enough, you can make it happen. Come on Oprah logic...don't let this girl down!