468...How Does That Happen?

How does one end up being 468 pounds? I had asked myself that question on numerous occasions. It is more than liking food. Heck, a lot of people enjoy food, but a lot of people do not end up 468 pounds. It is more than that.... much deeper than that. It is only a symptom of the problem, not the total problem. How does one end up morbidly obese? One word sums it up.... pain. I didn't realize it until I looked long and hard at my life, what went wrong. I was 92 pounds when I was in kindergarten. KINDERGARTEN! How does a child get that big at such a young age? Genetics? Maybe. I think it might stem from something else. Although I do not remember exactly when my poor eating habits began, but I do remember exactly what happened when I was 5, right before going into kindergarten. An older teenage boy, who was a neighbor and my mom's friend's son, molested me twice. I had NO idea what was going on, why he wanted me to do the things he was having me do, I was completely oblivious. I remember almost every detail. I remember what went through my mind when he exposed himself to me. As ridiculous as it sounds, it didn't even register that it was a part of his body. I had never seen anything like that before and was completely clueless. Even after it happened I was clueless. It wasn't until later on in life that I truly understood what had happened. Even though I had the innocence of a child, I was still uncomfortable. I felt something was wrong, but I didn't know what. Unfortunately, this was not going to be the only time that something like this happens to me. Again when I was 10 until I was 11 by my cousin, and then at 18 by a boyfriend I had. The first incident really didn't affect me until it happened again with my cousin when I was 10. It sent me into a complete tail spin. My parents marriage was already very rocky, there was a lot of stress in the house since my cousin ended up staying with us, and then this happened. When I finally got brave and told my mother, I was told to keep it secret from my father, because he was already starting to have health issues. She got him placed into foster care since he was a minor. I had to go on with life as if nothing happened.... although there was no way I possibly could. I started flunking in school, started to stay more to myself, and I started eating...and eating a lot. I was starting to have anxiety issues, to the point that just the very thought of going to school was making me sick. When I stayed home, I ate and ate. Example, I would eat 8 pieces of toast smothered in butter in one sitting. I would make a box of macaroni and cheese and eat it in one sitting. Once an active child, all I wanted to do was sit around and eat. By the time I was in 6th grade, I was 194 pounds. 1987 was one of the worst years of my entire life. My one friend I had since we were babies moved out of state, my other best friend was killed in an accident, and then my dad had a massive heart attack that left him 1/3 of his heart to live on. Loss after loss after loss. Although my dad didn't die, he was never the same again and his bad tempter got MUCH worse. I picked up smoking. Was easy to do since my parents were smokers. It wasn't until July 20, 1987 that my mom found out I smoked. Instead of getting me to quit, she would supply my newly found addiction. At the time I thought she was cool, now I just do not know what was going through her head as to why she would go along with it. I am thinking because she was mentally weak due to all the mental abuse from my dad. He was vicious at times with his words. He had the ability to break you down with the things he said. I loved him, yet, I could not stand him a lot of the time. Just so much to deal with. A year later, I started drinking. I was still doing horribly in school and I was still eating any chance that I got. By the time I was in the 9th grade, 3 months into it I was expelled for missing too many days. I never returned to school. 1993 is another awful year. Struggling taking care of my father, who's health was deteriorating more and more as the days went on, wondering how he was still alive. I had made some bad choice and ended up with a loser who ended up taking advantage of me. My mother was stricken with multiple sclerosis. My life as I knew it was turning upside down. Although I was used to helping my mom to take care of my dad, I ended up taking care of both of them. I was a nurse, a mother, and rarely the child in the equation. By this time, I had friends that I would escape with and they would always treat me out to eat. So now, I was eating out a lot on top of eating a lot when I was at home. I weighed 350 pounds. As time went on, there was a ray of sunlight in my life.... my husband. One of the best things that has ever happened to me. Saw me through a lot, helped me face the demons of being raped, I quit smoking & drinking, and I was trying my best to live a good life in spite of everything falling apart around me. 1996 we were married. We decided it was best to remain living with my parents because I feared they would not be able to survive on their own due to their health. 3 years later, my dad passed away. I was saddened, yet relieved. My mom no longer had to tolerate the abuse. I honestly do not know why she stayed with him. She said she loved him, but I really don't know why? Maybe the same reason I loved him, because he was something to me... he was my dad. He was her husband. For the first time in a very long time, my mom was starting to turn around. She had went from someone that took care of herself, to someone who honestly didn't give a shit. She was starting to care again, which made me happy. Of course, we took her out to eat... A LOT. 2002, my mom passed away from uterine cancer. I felt SO lost. I felt orphaned. My husband and I really struggled for a year after her death because neither one of us had ever been on our own and we were thrown into the role with little to no warning. It was a huge adjustment. We never really ate a home... always ate out. What was the point of cooking for two? At least, that was what we thought. Fast forward to 2006. 10 years of marriage, never been pregnant. Was told I couldn't get pregnant, mainly due to my size. So, we never gave it a thought...... until June 6, 2006 when I went to the doctor. I was not feeling well and was scared that something horrible was wrong....afraid that I may have had what my mother had. Went for an ultrasound and found out I was 7 months pregnant. (No lie) However, the ultrasound showed that something was terribly wrong. August 2006 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, only to lose her 14 1/2 hours later. Her kidneys didn't work and her lungs never developed. This was the most tragic thing that ever happened to me. I blamed myself for losing her. If only I had known, although there was no real way of knowing. It was normal for me not to have periods for months on end, was told I couldn't get pregnant, so I wasn't looking for it. I thought it was impossible. I felt as if life was a big, cruel joke. I simply didn't care about much. I did a lot of reading and learned that the best time to get pregnant was after you have given birth, within 3 months or so. I knew I could get pregnant and we decided to go for it. November 2006 I found out I was pregnant. At my 16 week check up, we learned that our baby girl had a heart defect, and possibly had downs. I was scared. By this time, I was also on bed rest because I was showing signs of toxemia. Bed rest on top of my eating habits was a really bad combination. My weight by now was 410. May 2007 they had to deliver our daughter by c-section. I was only 30 weeks along, which made her a preemie. Not only were we facing the fact that she needed heart surgery, but she was also premature. After a 3 month stay at the hospital, she was able to come home. However, I was limited to how much she could go out, which made me a more of a hermit, not getting out and moving about. I would stay home and eat. December of 2007 was time for her heart surgery. I never been more scared in my life. She did very well and she had a new lease on life. (She is still doing great!) However, with all the stress, all the staying home, all the not doing anything really caught up with me. I began having difficulty walking, doing minimal things around the house. I was in complete denial that it was my weight causing the issue. 2008 or 2009 (Can not remember exactly) I ended up in the ER. When they had me step on the scale, I about had a heart attack on the spot. It read... 468 pounds. I almost started crying. I could not believe what I was seeing. I pretended as if it never happened. At this point, I did not care what I ate, how much I ate, how many times I ate. I ate and I ate. I had accepted that I was fat, was going to be fat, nothing I could do about it, so might as well enjoy whatever I want. 2012 I had a doctor tell me that I was too far gone to diet. That only confirmed my way of thinking and from the office I went straight to the buffet. I DID NOT CARE. So, what made me start to care? My daughter. It didn't really hit me until my daughter wanted to do things with me and I couldn't do them. She wanted me to play on the playground, go for walks, ride a bike... I simply could not do it. When I saw how much she desired for me to be a part of her life, I felt that I had to do something. I had tried to diet, failed. Tried again.... failed. What was I doing wrong? Then it dawned on me. I needed to address how I got to 468 in the first place. All the pain I had tucked away from all the things that happened in my life... I needed to face them head on. It was 2012 after the death of my cousin (not the one who hurt me). She had committed suicide. It was the straw that broke my back. I mentally crashed. I needed to hit rock bottom in order to fight my way back up if that makes any sense. I would spend a lot of time thinking about a lot of things.... my life, my childhood, the losses I had suffered. Sometimes, sitting here crying. I had to let the pain go. I was able to "release" my first daughter and say good bye to her. I had to admit that my dad was abusive and I had ugly feelings toward him. I had always spoke highly of him because I was in complete denial of how he was. I had to forgive my cousin (not tell him, just in my heart) so I could make peace with what happened. Same with the teenage neighbor and my ex boyfriend. I had to admit to mistakes that have been haunting me and apologize for them, which I did. I needed to finally believe that I was worth the fight, that I was worth trying to save. My husband and my daughter NEEDED me. For a long time I had convinced myself they didn't need me, was better off without me. I had to do this. If not, I would try to diet and fail over and over because it was never a food issue..... it was a mental one! Food was a comfort. It was make me feel whole, gave me pleasure in its taste, numbed the pain or anxiety I had felt. Because of the "feel good factor" I became a food addict. I would eat when I was bored, even if I wasn't hungry. I would eat large amounts of food at a time. I would eat simply because! It was my way of making reality go away so I didn't have to deal with it... just for that time. Do I still struggle with urges to eat when upset? You bet I do! What do I do instead? I talk about what is bothering me. I face it and deal with it to the best of my ability. I have become so much stronger once I had this revelation. I no longer run to the fridge, or to the cupboard. I used to celebrate with food... all occasions! Why? Because food was a FEEL GOOD FACTOR! It just makes so much sense to me now. Yes, this blog is pretty long winded. This is actually the 5th time I sat down to write it. So many painful memories. BUT, it does help to face them, share them, talk about them.... because it is when you hold it in that it hurts the most and will eventually hurt you in one way or another. So when you see an obese person, before passing judgement that they are lazy, that they eat too much, think and know... more than likely, they are in pain and just trying their damnedest to make it go away... at least for a little while. No one (at least in their right mind) sets out to be 468 pounds.