I feel like my emotions are going about a million miles an hour, and in about a million different directions. I don't know if that makes any sense to most of you - - but it's how I'm feeling. I'm going to lay down some truths for you - - "these are my confessions" *Ursher voice*
I'm freaking out! I have been for a while. I think it is probably normal to have some nerves before a surgery. But this one comes with a complete life change as well. Granted - I am hopeful most of the changes are going to be positive - but EVERYTHING is going to change. And it is flipping me out! Having no idea what to expect is playing a rather large role in all of this. Having to sign forms that acknowledge I'm too heavy for a some of the testing equipment they would use if there is an issue during surgery doesn't help either. I'm almost 41 years old and I still feel like my parents should be signing all of this paperwork for me! The rational part of my brain trusts everything is going to be fine. I like my surgeon. He's assembled the perfect team for my particular situation. It's going to be fine. But no matter how many times I tell myself that, I still continue to have my mini freak out sessions. Mostly internal - but they're happening...frequently.
I have realized I spend an insane amount of time thinking about food. It's like my brain forgets I'm on a liquid diet. Not for long periods of time - but I have multiple times a day I think about what I'll eat next. Occasionally looking out days in advance. If I have an appointment - what restaurant to I like near there, and what should food should I pop in and get? These moments are short-lived as it doesn't take long for me to remember that I don't get to chew. And when I do, it won't be whatever delicious, sodium and fat-filled treat I was just thinking about. If I can somehow ween myself off this behavior, I'll have plenty of free time on my hands.
I've also realized that eating was very comforting to me. The actual act. It was like a kid and their blankie - only with calories. Lots of calories. I realized this during my detox, and it has come back full force in the days since I've started my liquid diet. I miss food. I'm guessing a drastically decreased appetite will help with this - - but it is definitely going to continue to be a battle for me. I'm going to have to find new comfort. Maybe knitting. Maybe walks. Maybe something completely new will present itself as I lose the weight.
Don't get me wrong - I realize my current body is not something I want to spend much more time with...but it's been my home for years. I don't remember what it was like living in a body that wasn't large enough to cause consistent issues. I don't remember what it was like to assume my ass will fit in whatever seat is provided. I don't remember what it was like to not be seriously concerned about how far I'd have to walk, how long I'd have to stand, how sweaty I would get - -just performing any function. Running errands are a chore in this body. Everything is a challenge in this body. But I'm used to this body. What is this new body going to be like? Other than being able to do a shit ton more - - what will I look like? Will I even look like me anymore? Will I be unrecognizable to myself and others? How long will it take me to lose the size-anxiety I experience every time I'm going somewhere? Will I just be one big blob of loose skin? How am I going to control this loose skin? Is there something stronger than Spanx? Will my damn FUPA hang to my knees? Will my boobs be even more pancake-ish than they currently are? Will my loose arm skin hang out the bottom of my sleeves so I can never wear short sleeves again? I'm getting a brand new home, and it's kind of freaking me out.
There is still a part of me - granted that part is becoming smaller and smaller - but there is still a part of me that is a little sad it's come to this. That I allowed myself to get to this size, and failed so many damn times to just stick to a decent diet and exercise program - that now drastic surgery is my only option. I'm still pissed at myself. I still feel like a failure. I still look at myself, and shake my head. I should have been able to do this on my own. I should have been strong enough. I should have had the will-power. I should have been...so many things that I'm not. Or at least haven't been.
In spite of all of this - I'm so damn excited for my future. I'm excited to see what this body can do. I'm excited to experience things that are going to feel new because I haven't been able to do them for so long - or will legitimately be new experiences. I know the recovery is going to be hard. I know I have a lot of work ahead of me. But I also have hope. And I have a 5 year old nephew who's pretty damn excited about what my future holds as well - and he's awesome enough to remind me of it frequently.