Okay, I've been forced to do a lot of soul-searching recently.

Despite sailing through any pre-operative psychological assessment (in fact I was so convincing and probably 'cause I was self pay I wasn't actually referred for the full tests), there is a nagging truth which keeps tapping me on the shoulder and making me uncomfortably aware of the reasons as to why I found myself in this position. The position whereby I felt bariatric surgery was my only viable option to lose weight and take control of my diet. Or more accurately and for me; my portion size.

Although I can intellectualise my way out of a paper bag (as was stated by the psychologist when I finally met them), I had, and have, to be honest as to the reasons I ended up this big.

The answer, as painful as it is, was; my mother.

My mother is a tough cookie. Born in a depressive era in Ireland, with enumerate siblings. She was poor and although educated, she was curtailed in her life choices and was always shown that 'if you love someone, you feed them'. I assume this was their truth, as to feed a very big family was difficult at this time, and was the only example her poor long-suffering and abused mother could muster under extreme circumstances. It was also the only expected long-term outlook for women of childbearing age.

The impact of this, was clearly passed down the genetic line. That in this, the nature/nurture argument for our food weaknesses becomes more pressing. This was exemplified not only in the way my mother behaved generally, but how she administered herself in her marriage and how she behaved with her children.

The extent of this dysfunction only became apparent in how skewed my food choices (and more appropriately: portion sizes) were - and how I was born into those food choices - when recently cooking for my mother. She skipped anything resembling a vegetable, ate her body-weight in meat, potatoes and fresh bread (despite my making from scratch; Hummus, Baba Ganoush, Fatttoush and Lamb kebab). She was a wonderful cook herself and we never went without anything (all food groups represented) and it was never out of a packet. However, I got a rude awakening as to how a mothers preferences in showing affection and her deeper psychological state, totally influenced us kids.

When pressing me on my weight loss, she conceded that she'd always focussed too much on the carbs ('tis an Irish thing) when we were children and how she'd misrepresented the importance of bread and potatoes in our diet. This was also, and sadly, tempered with how her inability to show affection, manifested itself in the reward system she'd assigned for herself. In that by feeding her offspring, she'd aligned this with the ultimate expression of love....

As much as I love my mother and as much of a wonderful cook she was; I realised that the burden of responsibility for the reason I was so overweight as a child, which then carried on into adulthood, was as much her responsibility as it was mine. I, too, now feed those I love. Not because I have an incapability to show love, but that these deeply engrained examples have become the example I work from. Despite these factors changing - because of the surgery - I can see where these behaviours are hard cycles to break and have left me with a mental quandary over identity and 'healthy' expressions of love and affection.

I have no idea as to the extent to how people evaluate the impact of bariatric surgery on their lives. Tactical and strategic analysis is difficult to do when everyone is so enraptured by the immediate gratification gained from losing pounds and having all those non-scale-victories (lest we talk about the 'my cats blacker' self affirming attitudes which occasional pervades this website).... But has it forced you to re-evaluate the causes for your issue?

Have you searched your soul and now have a better handle on how you ended up in this position? 'Cause lets face it - most of us can sit in a psychologist's chair for hours at a time, spinning the wheel - but unless you're willing to strip back your insecurities to the bare-bones truth, doesn't it all feel a bit, well, empty?

Have we learnt anything other than to count the carbs, count the Protein, measure the Water consumption and count the calories in order to be fitter, tighter, healthier, smaller, more socially acceptable?

I truly believe our surgical endeavors absolutely force us to re-evaluate our lives, our succor/comfort systems and our behaviour. Consequently and because of how hard it is (emotionally), do we not sneer with derision at those who proffer 'surgery is the easy option'. Out of the curtailment of our ability to chow down and eat our way to 'happiness'; is there not something more emotional and scarily deep, that we've had to confront every time we look in the mirror?

i know I'm not an island unto myself. We were weak. We are, still, weak.

Outside of the victories in maintaining a life of low fat, cottage cheese virtuous goodness. There is a deeper significance to combating the external expression of our hurt.

What are yours?

With utmost respect and affection,

Revs x

When I read the original post on this thread I thought, wow, do you get it. I have to think we each, in our own way, understand the depths and lasting impact of some wounds we have experienced early on.

I grew up in an abusive household and I've done a lot of work with a therapist to get through anger issues but I haven't resolved my weight problems.

I've gone through periods of losing. I have a cycle. I lose weight, I feel better, I meet someone, I get "comfortable", I gain weight, I get upset, I feel worse, I gain weight, the relationship gets rocky, I gain weight, I feel worse, I go through a break up. Repeat.

I'm successful in my career but I have no doubt that I have faced "fat" prejudice in job interviews or with colleagues. I have no doubt that it has held me back in living my life; I have spent so much time getting out of potentially embarrassing situations its what I've lived my life knowing and excelling at: avoiding living.

But when you are the weight I am you worry, you stress, you know that you might not fit in the chair, you worry that you'll bring the wrong seat belt extension; you know it will wind you to have to walk up the hill for the sightseeing, you avoid beach vacations, you would love to sky dive or ride horseback or even run, but you can't; you try to get to meetings early because you worry about having to squeeze into a row for a seat; you don't like being out of breath just from going up two floors with your colleagues when you walk back from lunch; you live in a state where people ski most of the year and you have no ski weekend stories because the thought of even walking in snow is exhausting.

It is so tiring, so exhausting not living.

And so when it is quiet and lonely but safe you are happy but not quite, so you grab that box of swiss rolls and the sugar and the pleasant set of movies make you forget about all the painful moments of being so aware of being the biggest one in the room but being invisible. But the temporary reprieve keeps us caught up where we are.

I don't think I've wrapped my mind around what my life looks like "thin" it's more of: what is my life like? I have no idea. I have been on the sidelines. Yes, I got places, I do things, but everything is always buried in these extra 130 pounds and it is tiring. I've lived in three different countries, I've traveled around the world, I go out and yet I do so always aware of my size.

So, it's time to start thinking differently. Or rather, to stop thinking "fat" and start thinking "worthy" or maybe just to not have to plan everything, control the environment, avoid embarrassment. It's not a secret but we never talk about it. It's the most obvious thing but it creates so many walls that make us invisible.

I'm choosing to live. I think I am afraid of what that will bring. No more sidelines. And there will still be difficult days and tough times and lonely Sunday evenings. And then what do I do? Without the food to soothe and the weight to blame, what does my narrative become?

It's time to start a new story of my life...

Awesome, you are well on your way..Congratulations!

And there will still be difficult days and tough times and lonely Sunday evenings. And then what do I do? Without the food to soothe and the weight to blame, what does my narrative become?

It's time to start a new story of my life...

Couldn't have put it better myself. My first step? I'm going to get a job.

When I read the original post on this thread I thought, wow, do you get it. I have to think we each, in our own way, understand the depths and lasting impact of some wounds we have experienced early on. I grew up in an abusive household and I've done a lot of work with a therapist to get through anger issues but I haven't resolved my weight problems. I've gone through periods of losing. I have a cycle. I lose weight, I feel better, I meet someone, I get "comfortable", I gain weight, I get upset, I feel worse, I gain weight, the relationship gets rocky, I gain weight, I feel worse, I go through a break up. Repeat. I'm successful in my career but I have no doubt that I have faced "fat" prejudice in job interviews or with colleagues. I have no doubt that it has held me back in living my life; I have spent so much time getting out of potentially embarrassing situations its what I've lived my life knowing and excelling at: avoiding living. But when you are the weight I am you worry, you stress, you know that you might not fit in the chair, you worry that you'll bring the wrong seat belt extension; you know it will wind you to have to walk up the hill for the sightseeing, you avoid beach vacations, you would love to sky dive or ride horseback or even run, but you can't; you try to get to meetings early because you worry about having to squeeze into a row for a seat; you don't like being out of breath just from going up two floors with your colleagues when you walk back from lunch; you live in a state where people ski most of the year and you have no ski weekend stories because the thought of even walking in snow is exhausting. It is so tiring, so exhausting not living. And so when it is quiet and lonely but safe you are happy but not quite, so you grab that box of swiss rolls and the sugar and the pleasant set of movies make you forget about all the painful moments of being so aware of being the biggest one in the room but being invisible. But the temporary reprieve keeps us caught up where we are. I don't think I've wrapped my mind around what my life looks like "thin" it's more of: what is my life like? I have no idea. I have been on the sidelines. Yes, I got places, I do things, but everything is always buried in these extra 130 pounds and it is tiring. I've lived in three different countries, I've traveled around the world, I go out and yet I do so always aware of my size. So, it's time to start thinking differently. Or rather, to stop thinking "fat" and start thinking "worthy" or maybe just to not have to plan everything, control the environment, avoid embarrassment. It's not a secret but we never talk about it. It's the most obvious thing but it creates so many walls that make us invisible. I'm choosing to live. I think I am afraid of what that will bring. No more sidelines. And there will still be difficult days and tough times and lonely Sunday evenings. And then what do I do? Without the food to soothe and the weight to blame, what does my narrative become? It's time to start a new story of my life...

Wow...idk what to say...I'm not an eloquent writer in the least. Your story touched me, so I will say this - start that new chapter and make it all you have ever dreamed but never thought possible - you (we, all of us) are worth it!!

Oh, Coffee!!!! I so completely "get" you! I'm ready too. No more sidelines! This has been such a good thread. Just what I needed.

check this out. It brought tears to my eyes.

http://www.ted.com/playlists/77/new_to_ted.html

I was fat before I became fat. Eventually my physical appearance matched how I felt on the inside. During high school I was always 140 but felt like I was obese. Hated my body. My rituals with eating began early.... Ohhhhh Snickers bars eating all around the outsides, then the nougat on the bottom. Then each bite after that I would let melt in my mouth. It was like making love to my food. Everything I loved to eat had some sort of ritualized eating pattern associated with it. I always had food battles with my parents. Now I realize it was all about control. I would have to sit at the kitchen table for hours because there were certain foods I refused to eat. I would get nauseous just thinking about them, then and now. Grits, eggs, black eyed peas just a few on a very long list. To this day I don't indulge in those foods, lol. My siblings, cousins and I would have food parties. My idea of course. We all would buy something from the store with our money we'd been saving. Then go on the back porch and divide the goods. We called it a picnic. As a teenager I would by a snack from the store and hide it under my mattress. Depending on how I felt I would finish it in a day or maybe 2, a whole box of Little Debbie Pies. When I moved out on my own at 18 I really settled into my food addiction. Until this point my binges hadn't resulted in weight gain. There was no turning back. I wasn't aware that what I was doing was blocking feelings of low self worth. Giving myself love the only way I knew how. I did not connect all the childhood abuse to my eating. I was just trying to survive. A young adult and teenage mom trying desperately to make ends meet. Too bad it's taken me many more abuses as an adult and reaching the age of 41 to began mending my mind. When you know better you do better. In therapy for a year doing the dance of one step forward two back. Thankful to have just taken a big leap forward.

I was fat before I became fat. Eventually my physical appearance matched how I felt on the inside. During high school I was always 140 but felt like I was obese. Hated my body. My rituals with eating began early.... Ohhhhh Snickers bars eating all around the outsides, then the nougat on the bottom. Then each bite after that I would let melt in my mouth. It was like making love to my food. Everything I loved to eat had some sort of ritualized eating pattern associated with it. I always had food battles with my parents. Now I realize it was all about control. I would have to sit at the kitchen table for hours because there were certain foods I refused to eat. I would get nauseous just thinking about them, then and now. Grits, eggs, black eyed peas just a few on a very long list. To this day I don't indulge in those foods, lol. My siblings, cousins and I would have food parties. My idea of course. We all would buy something from the store with our money we'd been saving. Then go on the back porch and divide the goods. We called it a picnic. As a teenager I would by a snack from the store and hide it under my mattress. Depending on how I felt I would finish it in a day or maybe 2, a whole box of Little Debbie Pies. When I moved out on my own at 18 I really settled into my food addiction. Until this point my binges hadn't resulted in weight gain. There was no turning back. I wasn't aware that what I was doing was blocking feelings of low self worth. Giving myself love the only way I knew how. I did not connect all the childhood abuse to my eating. I was just trying to survive. A young adult and teenage mom trying desperately to make ends meet. Too bad it's taken me many more abuses as an adult and reaching the age of 41 to began mending my mind. When you know better you do better. In therapy for a year doing the dance of one step forward two back. Thankful to have just taken a big leap forward.

"I was fat before I became fat"

Wow I so relate to this. It still resonates today...

You describe this so well, including to rituals of food and love.

I was fat before I became fat. Eventually my physical appearance matched how I felt on the inside. During high school I was always 140 but felt like I was obese. Hated my body. My rituals with eating began early.... Ohhhhh Snickers bars eating all around the outsides, then the nougat on the bottom. Then each bite after that I would let melt in my mouth. It was like making love to my food. Everything I loved to eat had some sort of ritualized eating pattern associated with it. I always had food battles with my parents. Now I realize it was all about control. I would have to sit at the kitchen table for hours because there were certain foods I refused to eat. I would get nauseous just thinking about them, then and now. Grits, eggs, black eyed peas just a few on a very long list. To this day I don't indulge in those foods, lol. My siblings, cousins and I would have food parties. My idea of course. We all would buy something from the store with our money we'd been saving. Then go on the back porch and divide the goods. We called it a picnic. As a teenager I would by a snack from the store and hide it under my mattress. Depending on how I felt I would finish it in a day or maybe 2, a whole box of Little Debbie Pies. When I moved out on my own at 18 I really settled into my food addiction. Until this point my binges hadn't resulted in weight gain. There was no turning back. I wasn't aware that what I was doing was blocking feelings of low self worth. Giving myself love the only way I knew how. I did not connect all the childhood abuse to my eating. I was just trying to survive. A young adult and teenage mom trying desperately to make ends meet. Too bad it's taken me many more abuses as an adult and reaching the age of 41 to began mending my mind. When you know better you do better. In therapy for a year doing the dance of one step forward two back. Thankful to have just taken a big leap forward.

"I was fat before I became fat"

Wow I so relate to this. It still resonates today...

You describe this so well, including to rituals of food and love.

It amazes me how similar we all are. Although a rarely post I always feel at home here. Reading everyone's experiences and insights have gotten me through...especially yours LV

Oh you guys. I want to hug every one of you until I've made everything better.

I've been feeling lonely because I can't log on to the site during the day anymore, can't keep up with everyone. I'm missing threads like these that build bonds between us all.

And I feel like I'm backsliding. I'm working out and running, and I keep eating too much, like the one justifies the other.

There's too much to say, too much to do, and not enough time in the day any more.

I'm feeling cut off and I LOVE this discussion want to contribute more. Arg, whine and boo me.

Don't be lonely, honey. We're all here... lurking and loitering and spending inordinate amounts of time talking piffle and puff.. Although, admittedly, not on this thread!

We miss you, too!

Stop working for a living and come hang out more x

Yes we miss you...

Quit that stupid job! What kind of job doesn't let you check in here all day??

Edited December 12, 201312 yr by laura-ven

Stupid large cell-phone provider company and sharing a tiny office with two other people.

I'm tearing off fingernails, chewing on my cuticles, just stressing in general. I need this site to help me cope!

Are you starting to feel like you're in some sort of Orwellian nightmare?!

Stupid large cell-phone provider company and sharing a tiny office with two other people. I'm tearing off fingernails, chewing on my cuticles, just stressing in general. I need this site to help me cope!

I know the feeling!!!

I sometimes feel like I'm living in the world of "Brazil"

Except that my life has, by and large, been so unremittingly average. Remarkable in its unremarkableness. There were a few instances of "you'll sit at the table until you finish your dinner" but my father, thank god, was a picky eater so there wasn't much that my mother would cook that I wouldn't eat. The only think unusual was that I was always the fat one. No one else in my family is heavy, a couple of them are even too slender.

I have no idea how I got to be as fucked up as I am (other than years of schooling by nuns). If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all?!

What am I saying ... I got here because I like food. I love food. I always have. Whenever I've lost weight outside of the sleeve or the lapband, it's been by severely restricting calories and working out like a maniac. That's a freaking uncomfortable truth. What happens when I'm too old to work out so hard? My body is already slowing down (I'll be 52 in a couple of weeks), metabolism-wise. What's next?