Do I need to Justify?

When I posted about making an appointment for the gastric band a few things happened. 

1. I felt raw and very exposed.  Not only to Pete (the only one in my life who knows), but to the world through my blog.  More exposed and raw than I think I've ever felt.
2. I lost readers.
3. I gained more readers.
4. I felt like I needed to justify my decision to...everyone.

Why?  Why do I need to justify my decision to anyone other than myself? 

I think that part of it is my mindset from growing up.  I feel (this my only be my impression and I'm recognizing that) that I asked my parents for things many times.  To go places, see movies, be with friends, get new clothes...all the usual things that kids/teens ask for.  And many times I was shot down.  Likely there were good reasons for it, but to me it just felt like they were saying no all the time.  So I stopped asking for things.  I had been shot down enough times to know that the answer would be no.  Almost as though it had crushed a part of my spirit.

When I really did want something and thought it was worth asking for, I would develop a plan.  The plan was thinking about every reason in the world that it would benefit me or my parents or my family.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing.  But what happens in my head with likely every decision is that I think about the decision, think about all the obstacles first.  All of them.  Then plan around them.  In essence, I am not a spur of the moment thinker.  I am a planner. 

So before I even decided to tell Pete I came up with a plan in my head.  Before I talked to my doctor, I came up with a plan in my head.  Before I wrote the blog post, I came up with a plan.  What I realize now is that my plans are more justifying what I want to do, even when I don't need to do so.  It was a major realization for me.  Major.  It made me think about how I mentally process things.  I need to note that I don't need to justify myself anymore, I'm an adult. 

I'm going to be practicing this tomorrow night.  My appointment with the bariatric surgery center starts out with an informational group tomorrow night.  I went to it with Pete, but still have to do it again for me.  I learned that a co-worker will be there with her husband.  I haven't said anything to her about going through the process myself.  But tomorrow I'm going to practice telling her without it seeming like I'm justifying my decision to her.

My Worst Fear

Sunday I talked about my worst fear.  And like I said, it's not even really my worst fear.  My worst fear, the one that instantly brings tears to my eyes, is that something happens to Pete.  I am so tied to him in every way that the thought of not having him instantly brings me to tears.  I don't think about that very often.

My worst fear right now?

I won't qualify for gastric band.  Either the program or my insurance won't qualify me.  I'm anxious and nervous and left kind of in limbo for right now.  I almost feel like this is my last chance to get some of this weight off and get truly healthy. 

So when I whispered this to Pete and took a deep breath in...and he replied that we'd deal with it then, it was the best answer ever.  The most calming supportive answer.  The answer that I needed to hear.

Out of Hiding aka Where I'm At Today

I've been on this healthiness journey since November 2007.  Some months were on target and I was losing and feeling good.  Other months were filled with illness/injury and there was either no losing or gaining.  Admittedly, there were also months that I gave up and never worried about being healthy.  There were months that I was so consumed with life and all that goes on, that healthiness never entered my mind.

I've lost a solid 30 pounds.  Oh, I've lost more.  At one point I was up to losing a total of 40 pounds. But in the last year I've yo-yo'd that final 10 pounds more than the elevator in the Sears Tower.  I've counted calories, made meal plans, only shopped for fresh food, eaten more fish, cut up low-fat/low sugar items, eaten every 4 hours, only eaten 3 meals, 1200 calories, high fiber, had a trainer, been a gym rat, taken classes, tried new things, C25K, read books, read blogs, blogged myself, read recipe books, taken challenges...

Where I'm at:  I weigh 237.  I definitely have more muscle than I did 2 years ago.  I have more endurance with cardio.  But I can't get past this plateau.  Because of my weight, I'm at high risk for heart disease, diabetes and breast cancer; I have arthritis in my knees and issues with my feet; I snore and keep my husband and I from sleeping through the night.   I don't want to be here anymore.

Can you guess where this is going? 

I made an appointment with the bariatric surgery center for 8/30/11. 

I know it's not popular.  I know that people are going to tell me not to give up and that I can do it on my own.  But the truth is that I'm not giving up and I will do this on my own.  The truth is that I'm going to do with with another tool to help me.  Just like a calorie counter, the gym and my trainer were tools, so is the gastric banding.

Please don't judge me.  This is a decision not quickly made.  I've thought about this for about 4 years since one of my friends did it.  I've tried several things on my own and with the help of doctors, nutritionists and trainers.  I need more help.  I've discussed my weight at length every 6 months when I see my doctor.  I've discussed this decision with her and she agrees with me.  I hate surgery and fear it because of issues in the past with surgery.  But I'm willing to go through it for ME.  When it comes to medical issues, my motto is always to do the least invasive things first.  And I have. The gyms, the calories, the training, the meals, reading blogs, books, trying new plans.  It's not working.  I need to step up to something more invasive, but that I can live with.

So there.  I've said it. 

Did you ever tell someone your worst fear?

I did.

There was nothing either spectacular or earth shattering this weekend.  It was a normal weekend where Pete and I went to a motorcycle club campout.  Well, we did stay in a hotel because we knew we wouldn't get to Hayward, WI until 9pm Friday night.  Setting up the camper in the dark isn't fun and we usually fight.  And I guess you could say that it was unusually cold for August.  Well, there was also the fact that my music didn't work.

I had a good 7+ hours of riding on my bike by myself to do nothing but think and enjoy the ride.

When we got home I was wiped out.  Between the cooler temps, the running around, and the wind, I was tired.  Pete and I took the bag off the bike and settled in for a nap.  When he woke me up an hour later I felt more refreshed, but still tired. 

We lay, cuddled together in bed.  His back to my front, my legs and arms wrapped around his.  Then I told him my worst fear.  And when I did, tears started coming out, as though the words were the keys to release the floodgates.  As though my body had a instant response to my brain and my heart.  They fell silently down my sunburnt/windburnt cheeks and slid over the side of my face into my left ear. 

It's silly really.  Because even though I say this is my worst fear, it's really not.  My worst fear is something happening to Pete or my nieces/nephews or my parents; something happening to my job or Pete not getting a job.  Those things are my worst fears, but they're everyone's worst fears.  They're normal worst fears.  They're things things that everyone can relate to.  My worst fear is something that feels specific to me.  Something that if I utter out loud, then it becomes real.  If I say it, I then admit that it means something to me and I can no longer care that it doesn't.  It feels akin to me telling everyone I was happy when I was single, just so they didn't know how lonely I was.  It both breaks my heart and makes me smile.

But I said it.  And Pete responded the best way that he could.  Lovingly supportive.  Confident.  Calm and reassuring.  And encouraging.

It's better to ask than assume

Over time, I have learned that it's better to ask about things that to guess or expect them. 

Case in point.  This is my bathroom.  These are my hand towels hanging from the little cabinet.

The towel on the left I use to dry my hands after I use the bathroom.  The towel on the right used to be a decorative towel and a wash cloth and look pretty.  Then I noticed that those decorative towels were wet, messy and generally not pretty.  So I started hanging a regular towel.  I'd use the other towel for my hands or mouth after tooth brushing.

Then, one day, I was in the bathroom while Pete was drying off after a shower.  I watched in amazement as he used that right towel  TO DRY HIS BODY OFF after the shower.  So in other words, I was drying my hands and face on his behind....  I asked him how long he had been doing that and he said for some time.  Let's just say that I don't use the right towel any more.  For ANYTHING.

Then last night I came home to this:

For those that don't know, this is a dental tool used in cleaning teeth.  I have TMJ and cannot open very far.  Flossing is a a killer exercise that leaves my jaw tired and cranky.  I was given this my by dentist to use in getting stuck food out.  It's home is in with my toothbrush.

After the towel realization I decided that I needed to get to the bottom of this one right away.  So I asked Pete why it was out.  First he launched into how he was cleaning something and needed to get into a small space.  I was horrified.  Then I looked at his face and saw him smiling.  He actually used it on his teeth.

*sigh*  I'm not thrilled about it, but I can live with it.

It's better to ask, than assume.