I Am Jack's Momentary Blindness
A strange thought has been creeping into my head recently. It’s one that I have tried to fight off for years, denied from even myself and tried to convince myself that it didn’t exist. Then last year, when I first tried to have wls, I finally allowed myself the first glimpses of it. You know what that thought was?
I’m fat.
Now, I know I know….”What do you mean ‘recently creeping into your head’?? You haven’t KNOWN you’re fat for years and years and years???”
Well, of course I have. But I’ve sort of been in denial for most of my life. Not about my physical appearance, don’t get me wrong. I have no body image issues or misconceptions when it comes to how I am physically. What I’m talking about is the medical and mental side of being fat. For years my conscious mind has come to my rescue, shielding me from the harmful truth of my physical being. When I was at my old job and had to do inventory and the next day I couldn’t walk because I had had to squat so much the night before that I just wanted to chuck my knees in the trash and start again, well that was ‘just the inventory…and I’ve always had bad knees, even when I was little’ (seriously, when I was little before I even knew what the term overweight meant, if I would squat down, my knees sounded like a bowl of rice crispies). That was the cause of the pain, not because I was fat, as my subconscious mind was trying to tell me, yell at me more like. Nonononono that could not be it, not possibly.
Whenever I would get up in the morning and my back was tight and sore, it was always the bed’s fault, not the fact that there was too much weight on my spine and once it had a chance to relax while I slept it cried. Nonononono that could not be it, not possibly.
Other times I would either delude myself into thinking everything was fine (like trying to fit into a booth in a restaurant and looking like the toothpaste had gotten out and someone had tried to put it back in the tube. Or avoiding the restaurant all together and having my conscious mind decide that maybe I would rather cook tonight, or just go through a drive-thru and bring it home. Yes, that’s all it was…changed my mind.
But lately, my conscious mind has been asleep, or at least drowsing, at the wheel, and my subconscious mind seems to be in great voice, ‘Sing it loud, sing it proud!’:
YOU’RE FAT!!! You cannot possibly hope to fit into that booth, so just try to get a table. Of course your back hurts, there is 3 people’s worth of weight hanging off your spine you moron! Why bother trying to climb the stairs? You know you’ll just be winded and there is an elevator right over there. Don’t pretend that the stairs will have no effect on you, who cares if the skinny people stare. If they think that you should be able to walk up or down one lousy flight of stairs, then by their rationale, they should be able to make the jaunt up the three they are avoiding so screw ‘em. If your knees hurt, it’s because they are carrying too much of a load. Try not putting your feet up under your chair for an hour at a time so they are not completely bent. Stretch them out, help them out. They do try. Of course your ankles are sore, you’ve always had weak ankles. Don’t try to walk faster than you know you can safely and comfortably and you won’t risk twisting them.
DISCLAIMER: The above paragraph is not typed in an effort to demonstrate self-loathing, or trying to beat myself up. It’s just the way that it is and I don’t say these things with any negative connotation directed at myself or anyone else who takes the time to read this long-ass, rambling post.
I was so busy trying to convince myself that, although I was fat, I was still independent, self-reliant, and ‘normal’, that I didn’t realize that not treating my body like it was too big was making things worse, not only mentally and physically, but emotionally. When I began to realize these things, it was like a slap in the face. Like it was literally the first time I had ever thought about it and/or realized it. How warped is that?? So while my visual self image remained intact, and I knew what I looked like, my residual self-image (The Matrix wtg me!) needed a little tweeking.
I’ve come to grips now with a great deal of things about myself recently and in some ways it has been very freeing. It’s exhausting trying to keep secrets from your self and when I can let up and just acknowledge these truths, my mind rests more easily, and more completely.
I am becoming aware of my limitations and beginning to accept the totality of my situation. It’s a little disheartening, but also probably a good thing because I’m sure I won’t want to have any delusions about this stuff when and if it comes time for me to have this surgery.
Please, God…let me be approved, let me be able to get this done and let everything go ok if I’m able to have it.
I’m fat.
Now, I know I know….”What do you mean ‘recently creeping into your head’?? You haven’t KNOWN you’re fat for years and years and years???”
Well, of course I have. But I’ve sort of been in denial for most of my life. Not about my physical appearance, don’t get me wrong. I have no body image issues or misconceptions when it comes to how I am physically. What I’m talking about is the medical and mental side of being fat. For years my conscious mind has come to my rescue, shielding me from the harmful truth of my physical being. When I was at my old job and had to do inventory and the next day I couldn’t walk because I had had to squat so much the night before that I just wanted to chuck my knees in the trash and start again, well that was ‘just the inventory…and I’ve always had bad knees, even when I was little’ (seriously, when I was little before I even knew what the term overweight meant, if I would squat down, my knees sounded like a bowl of rice crispies). That was the cause of the pain, not because I was fat, as my subconscious mind was trying to tell me, yell at me more like. Nonononono that could not be it, not possibly.
Whenever I would get up in the morning and my back was tight and sore, it was always the bed’s fault, not the fact that there was too much weight on my spine and once it had a chance to relax while I slept it cried. Nonononono that could not be it, not possibly.
Other times I would either delude myself into thinking everything was fine (like trying to fit into a booth in a restaurant and looking like the toothpaste had gotten out and someone had tried to put it back in the tube. Or avoiding the restaurant all together and having my conscious mind decide that maybe I would rather cook tonight, or just go through a drive-thru and bring it home. Yes, that’s all it was…changed my mind.
But lately, my conscious mind has been asleep, or at least drowsing, at the wheel, and my subconscious mind seems to be in great voice, ‘Sing it loud, sing it proud!’:
YOU’RE FAT!!! You cannot possibly hope to fit into that booth, so just try to get a table. Of course your back hurts, there is 3 people’s worth of weight hanging off your spine you moron! Why bother trying to climb the stairs? You know you’ll just be winded and there is an elevator right over there. Don’t pretend that the stairs will have no effect on you, who cares if the skinny people stare. If they think that you should be able to walk up or down one lousy flight of stairs, then by their rationale, they should be able to make the jaunt up the three they are avoiding so screw ‘em. If your knees hurt, it’s because they are carrying too much of a load. Try not putting your feet up under your chair for an hour at a time so they are not completely bent. Stretch them out, help them out. They do try. Of course your ankles are sore, you’ve always had weak ankles. Don’t try to walk faster than you know you can safely and comfortably and you won’t risk twisting them.
DISCLAIMER: The above paragraph is not typed in an effort to demonstrate self-loathing, or trying to beat myself up. It’s just the way that it is and I don’t say these things with any negative connotation directed at myself or anyone else who takes the time to read this long-ass, rambling post.
I was so busy trying to convince myself that, although I was fat, I was still independent, self-reliant, and ‘normal’, that I didn’t realize that not treating my body like it was too big was making things worse, not only mentally and physically, but emotionally. When I began to realize these things, it was like a slap in the face. Like it was literally the first time I had ever thought about it and/or realized it. How warped is that?? So while my visual self image remained intact, and I knew what I looked like, my residual self-image (The Matrix wtg me!) needed a little tweeking.
I’ve come to grips now with a great deal of things about myself recently and in some ways it has been very freeing. It’s exhausting trying to keep secrets from your self and when I can let up and just acknowledge these truths, my mind rests more easily, and more completely.
I am becoming aware of my limitations and beginning to accept the totality of my situation. It’s a little disheartening, but also probably a good thing because I’m sure I won’t want to have any delusions about this stuff when and if it comes time for me to have this surgery.
Please, God…let me be approved, let me be able to get this done and let everything go ok if I’m able to have it.