I’m really struggling tonight.
Long story kinda short, I been overweight all my life mostly. I was actually a pretty big boned kid (genuinely, my bio parents are just naturally hefty people and a lot of people in their families are too). However, I was so active as a child. I swam for hours and hours in our pool and I rode my bike around the block countless times, racing my neighborhood friends. I was in soccer and volleyball up even until I was about 14. Even then, I wish I could still be what I considered “fat”. Maybe 180 at my highest.
I don’t mean to find reasons to blame my problems on other things but I have come up with an abbreviated list of reasons as to why I feel I’ve gotten to the point of being less than a month shy of 23 and weigh nearly 400 pounds. I think my highest weight has been 380. Essentially, I have struggled with mental illness all my life. I was adopted and I learned over time that my entire bio family is as well. I was medicated for multiple things like BD, ADHD and other things honestly still not entirely sure what my actual diagnosis is since it has varied. But it all came to a head when I revealed at age 15 that I had been molested for years by a very close friend of my family. I have reasonably deduced that my unhealthy relationship with food stems from that. I have told many therapists a revelation: if I’m fat and ugly then maybe no one will want to touch me like that again. (I know this is obviously very poor line of thinking, but I believed it long enough to do damage. So along with gaining over 70lbs in 3 months on lithium as a 14 year old, my food as a coping mechanism and just hating myself in general- I was also diagnosed with hypothyroidism as if this cauldron lacked enough spice. Just...a lot. I carried myself well. Having Latina genes, being short and curvy just worked I guess. Until I was no longer genuinely curvy but sedentary and rotund.
So, fast forward to now. I had a more active lifestyle when I lived with my ex fiancé and worked a lot. Then I started going downhill again (thanks bipolar and not managing my emotions) and that slowly merged into me spending the last almost year, maybe 9 months 100% sedentary in my own tiny apartment and stuffed my face I deep, dark depression. Whatever sliver left I had of “I’m just curvy” and fitting into clothes and all that left. I ballooned. None of my clothes fit, I couldn’t breathe just getting up. I couldn’t really fit in my shower anymore...it was terrible. I started to do something about it in November when I FINALLY found a good doctor at a college system in my state. She began running tests immediately and found I am still only somehow prediabetic, I had sleep apnea of over 150 apneas per hour. For those of you who don’t know about apnea- severe apnea is anywhere over like 15-30 moments per hour. I had been smoking cigarettes for years and needed to stop that. (Been nicotine free for almost 3 months now!) I met with a weight loss specialist who got the ball rolling for a gastric bypass surgery (RSY or something? a little fuzzy as it’s late here for me. I can double check.)
All was going great. I made huge changes in my diet and had quit smoking. I was way more active. I had lost close to 15 pounds in like 3 months. The surgeons wanted me to lose about 20lbs before hand. I finished all of my Medicaid requirements and attended some useful classes. I had a tonsillectomy scheduled for me so I could get my apparently huge tonsils removed. Things were looking up!....
And then, Corona hit. I well, not all at once but it was a slow trickle. I have generally been sick with Strep throat and pneumonia in the last 5 months really. I was super super ill but I still made changes and in the down times I was way more active and generally happier despite feeling like crap. Then, I got what everyone suspects to be COVID-19 and I have been in quarantine for over 2 weeks now. It’s throwing me back to my terrible spiral in that apartment last year. It’s an involuntary quarantine. I’m so scared that because of my anxiety and stress, I’ve been guiltily gorging myself, knowing it’s bad. And I’ve hardly left my front door in general fear, let alone my own bed.
So if you’ve read this far...this is where I’m at right now. My motivation is crushed. All of my surgeries were cancelled. And unfortunately I’m going through a bleak albeit mutual break up with my ex of 4 years due to distance (he’s 1200 miles away and still supportive but I’m still heartbroken). I was looking so much forward to being healthier and moving to him and starting school again. I’m only 22 and I am already on disability for being obese. I can hardly get dressed or, pardon for being so crass but even wipe my own ass without wanting to collapse. I don’t want to die young and I was trying so hard.
Thank you for listening. I know this was a lot. If anyone has any encouragement or advice I would be so extremely appreciative of it in these lonely, stressful times. I hope all of you are well.
Edit: sorry guys I am typing on a new phone and I’ve got expectedly fat fingers so I’ve missed a couple marks as far as spelling goes.
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