And
that is something my friend Shannon mentioned a few months ago: WHEREVER YOU GO, THERE YOU ARE
The
wherever you go, there you are statement
is so true and so inescapable that it can hurt, and until you make friends with
yourself and accept your past misdeeds as past,
you’ll be mighty cranky when the naughty parts seem to stalk you wherever you
go. Many times in the past I’ve done something major to improve my life, like
take a new job in a different part of the country, only to find myself reacting
to my boss, my coworkers, and work situations in the exact same dysfunctional
ways as I had in the previous job. At times I’ve wanted to tell myself, “Just
leave me alone!”, but I’m stuck with me. My job now is to figure out which
parts of me are worth keeping and which parts need revamping or discarding. As
I wrote in Bandwagon, I will always
have a short, fat girl inside me, just waiting to get out. One day, I hope to
live with her in harmony. In the meantime, I sometimes ask her, “Who invited
you, anyway?”
Like
it or not, adult humans tend to carry a carapace of beliefs and behaviors
everywhere we go. The carapace thickens and hardens as the years go by,
becoming a portable home that protects our soft inners from weather, injury,
and predators. That shell may not be beautiful, but it’s safe. The idea of
shedding it is scary: imagine a poor vulnerable turtle without its shell; but
as our needs and goals change, our shells may need to change also. If an entire
layer of your shell was formed on the assumption that you’re doomed to fail at
weight loss, or that food is the only thing that can comfort you when you’re
hurt, it’s not going to serve your weight loss journey very well.
I’ve
never done well with giving up a belief or behavior all at once, cold turkey,
but then, I haven’t had to deal with something the size and strength of a heroin or tobacco
addiction. On the other hand, peeling away the protective shell layer by layer
could try the patience of a saint. As you’ve heard me say before, I prefer to
tackle the easy stuff first, so that I have enough confidence to sustain me
when I get to the hard stuff. For example, instead of switching from whole milk
to fat free, I switched to 2%, then 1%, before I was able to enjoy fat free
milk.
It
is possible, though, to make big changes fairly fast if the reward (or
punishment) is significant. In the past, one of my jumbo-sized bad behaviors
was speeding when driving. Eventually my speeding ticket collection sent me to
traffic school, with a one-year probation period during which any moving
violation would automatically revoke my Tennessee driver’s license. We live out
in the country, in an area with no public transportation, so my speeding habit
got a very quick makeover. Now I’m a slower, safer driver, and I still have my
license.
LIGHTEN THE LOAD
Sometimes
giving up or changing a negative or dangerous behavior feels far scarier than
living with the unpleasant consequences of continuing the behavior. This is
especially true of eating behaviors, because the basic act of eating is
essential to our existence, so anything that threatens that takes on enormous
importance. If I need to give up compulsive shopping, I’m going to be
miserable, but I’ll survive. If have to give up compulsive eating, I feel like
I’m going to die because all my
eating is compulsive, and without eating, I’ll perish. Of course, to lose
weight in a healthy manner, I don’t have to give up eating altogether, but it
sure feels that way at times.
One
of the reasons I approve of (if not enjoy) pre-op diets is that they require
you to alter your eating behavior RIGHT NOW, so you can ease into the practice
of healthy eating and not have to begin an overwhelming job the day after
surgery, or the day after the first fill, when so many other things in your
post-op life are still so strange and new. Waiting until the very last minute
to jump on the nutritional bandwagon seems to me like a set-up for failure.
One
special challenge in changing our turtle shells is that sometimes the really
tough layers are completely invisible to us, and they’re difficult to
acknowledge (never mind change) even when another person, or the evidence of
our own senses, finally shows them to us. I went through a period in my late
20’s during which I carried a big chip on my shoulder and did my best to be a
bitch. It may have been an overreaction to the preceding period of depression
and submissiveness. At the time, I lived in an apartment with an upstairs
neighbor who worked at a bank every day and partied hearty every night. I wore
a track into the carpet with my trips up the stairs to knock on his door and
complain about the noise. After a few months of that, I was furious when this
banker had his 5 year-old daughter (on loan from her mom for the weekend) lean
out the window as I walked through the parking lot and yell in her sweet girly
voice, “Look at the bitch! Look at the bitch!”
I
happened to have a friend then who socialized with the banker sometimes. I told
her the “Look at the bitch!” story hoping for insight about the banker, or at
the very least a nice dose of sympathy, but it didn’t work out the way I wanted
because my friend said in a reasonable tone, “But Jean, you ARE a bitch.” After
which I decided I was proud of being
a bitch rather than trying to find a way to get along with the banker better.
I
hope I’d handle a situation like that better nowadays. I’ve been gradually
chipping away at the bitch layer of my shell for years now, but it’s still
there, traveling with me wherever I go.
A while back, my friend Tom quoted a wonderful post from the marcandangel.com
blog. It was a list of ten daily reminders to keep your mind centered and your
spirits lifted. Number 3 on the list is this:
Sometimes to get where
you want to go, you have to do what you are afraid to do. You must be brave
and push forward. Miracles occur when you give as much attention and energy to
your dreams as you do to your fears.
In
my case, the most fearful thing I had to do in order to succeed with my band
was not drinking skim milk, surviving a liquid diet, or giving up bread. The
most fearful thing was giving up my emotional attachment to food. In the nearly
6 years since I was banded, I’ve made a lot of progress with that, but the
attachment is still there. It forms one of the innermost layers of my turtle
shell. Working on that layer will probably be a lifetime job for me. At times
I’m not even sure I truly want to get
rid of it altogether. At times I’m afraid that if I shed my shell completely, I
won’t be able to survive. On the other hand, I seem to be doing fine without
that thick old bitch layer. So I’m going to pay attention to my dreams rather
than my fears and pray for a miracle.
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