One Year.

A year ago today I anxiously awaited my very first surgery. I had never had one before and I was so terrified that something bad was going to happen.... then they gave me the good drugs and I didn't care anymore, I was ready to go. haha jk.... kinda.

As I've stated in all my surgery related blogs, this surgery journey was years in the making for me. When I first found out I was infertile 5 years ago (omg 5 years???) the doctor practically begged me to have weight loss surgery. I was very opposed to the idea, I didn't want to wait the required 6 months of pre-op diet and year post-surgery to try to have a baby. I wanted a baby NOW. Well, joke was on me because I didn't end up getting that baby. (Which now I see was 100% a good thing. How dangerous and selfish of me to try to have a baby when I was 400 pounds.) So I fought the idea of having surgery. "I can do it on my own." And I did, a little. But then I gained it back. And then I gained more back... and I felt like a failure. But then I noticed that God started putting women in my life who had had the surgery, and I gave in. I stopped fighting. I decided to give my stubborn ways a rest and do what God obviously had intended for me to do. I had the surgery.

My surgery went great, smooth. I healed quickly and despite a rough patch of having a hard time keeping food down, I made it through easily and created a whole new, healthy life for myself. The weight fell off of me so easily. At my 6 month mark, I hit a bump. I got cocky. I started allowing myself to "cheat" and the weight loss slowed down BIG TIME. And so I beat myself up about it, I got depressed, my anxiety sky rocketed. Everyone kept complimenting me and telling me how amazing I was, and I felt guilty. I felt undeserving of their praise. And so I'd beat myself up about that too. Told myself I was a liar and that I was letting people think I was amazing, when in fact I was a failure.

And then the months close to my one year anniversary started inching closer. I knew at the one year mark Charles and I could start trying to have a baby again... so I started self-sabotaging. I became so controlled by my anxiety, I began binge eating. I would make myself so sick and then berate myself about it. I'd tell myself what a failure I was and I would cry. I would cry in my bathroom, I'd cry in restaurants, I'd cry in HEB. Why? Because that meant the day was coming that I was actually going to find out if I'd ever get to have a baby. What if I did all this and still didn't get to be pregnant some day? (Guys, please don't comment on the fact that I adopted a beautiful boy. I know I did, I cherish him so much, seriously. Doesn't change what every fiber of my being craves. And yes, I'm aware that without a pregnancy, I am still so much healthier, I know.)

So I got professional help in the form of my amazing therapist. Y'all, I've probably seen 6 therapists in my life, ones I never felt like helped me. I'd stop going because I felt like I was exhausting them, that they were sick of hearing about all my ridiculous problems and I was bothering them. More lies I'd tell myself, feelings of unworthiness and self hatred. But this one... he's awesome. I anxiously await my next appointments. And he helped me understand that I have an eating disorder. So I'm working on that. It's something I've obviously always known in the back of my mind, but never really took it as the serious thing it is.

Then my mom died.

I gained about 10 pounds back. I gained those pounds back so quickly. I looked like I was handling things super well on the outside, but alone I would eat. I would make myself sick and I would cry.

And then I had my one year appointment yesterday. They praised me for all I'd done. Told me it was ridiculous to beat myself up for gaining weight when my mother had died. That it's normal, that it's okay, and that tomorrow is another day. And if it takes 30 more tomorrows to get back on track, then I try again the next tomorrow until that tomorrow is the final one. The one where I pick up all my pieces and I get back on track.

It wasn't a perfect year, it was hard, but it was an amazing one too. It was one where I got to do a million things I never got to do before. I got to buy clothes in regular sizes, I got to sit in chairs without worrying if I would fit or break them, I got to experience my baby boy wrap his arms AND legs around me, I got to put together furniture on the floor, I got to play on inflatable bounce houses with my kid, the list goes on... Most importantly, I survived. I took my life back. I know for a fact I'd be over 400 pounds by now if I hadn't. It was a year where I got to learn things about myself, some things weren't great things I wanted to learn, and I lost the woman who made me the way I am.

This next year is a scary and exciting one. It's one where Charles and I do the fertility stuff again. It's one where we get that final yes or no. But something tells me that no matter that answer, we'll survive that too.

Oh and all that failure stuff? The parts where I feel unworthy of praise, unworthy of love (especially from myself)... I'm working on that. And sorry, parents, I got another tattoo today in honor of my anniversary. One to remind me every minute of every day that I am worthy. I'm so worthy of all of those things and more. Do I fully believe that yet? No. That doesn't come in a day, it's 30 years worth of people making me feel unworthy and telling myself I was unworthy to undo, but it can and will be done. Be patient with me on that.

Thank you all for reading these long, emotional updates. Thank you all for giving me praise when I needed it, for making me feel like I wasn't a complete failure when I was telling myself I was, seriously. You all are so much a part of this, more than you know.

xo