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Category: Mental Health

BANDED

In April 2012 I was 46 years old. I’d battled weight my entire life and I was tired. All the weight I’d previously lost was back on – again. All the tricks I’d used before were failing. I tried eating less, exercising more, eating more, exercising less. Shakes and weird shit and anything I could think of. I was still fat and getting fatter. So in tears and desperation, I made an appointment to see an obesity surgeon on a Thursday. He had a cancellation the following Monday. I booked in, had a gastric lap band fitted, and changed my life.

FINE

How often do we say it? How often does someone ask, “How are you?” Barely a day goes past without these social niceties. The attendant at the service station, the telemarketer on the telephone, colleagues at work, friends on Facebook, my kids, husband, father.

RESTRICTED

At a support group last year, however, one lovely lady mentioned something I’d never been told before. Something I’d never considered. You’re bingeing because you restrict, she said. I thought that was hilarious.

WHAT DID YOU SAY?

Me? I was born with a chubby foot in my mouth. And it seems I’m a slow learner. The reason I journal and blog, and became increasingly shy, quiet and retiring over the decades, is I really suck at the spoken word. It takes me ages to formulate what to say. I’m not quick off the mark with rapid repartee, then can’t process conversations and respond appropriately in a timely and intelligent fashion.

IT’S A ROLLER COASTER

Everything we do in life, we do because it’s the thing we want to do the most at the time. When I choose to binge or purge, at the moment in time it is preferable to being healthy. I’m getting something out of it – numbing my emotions, punishing myself, weight control. There’s always something that feels like a positive – a backhanded false positive.