Don't let yourself go, kids!

No, this isn't one of those "body shame" blogs that will tell you that you should be one thing or another. I'm not going to tell you that being big isn't beautiful, or that loving your bones is wrong. I would be a hypocrite. But, what I will share with you is my experience. You don't realize how far off the path you've gone until you lose your ability to walk without pain.

I've struggled with my weight and self worth for what seems my entire life. Don't get me wrong - I'm finally in a place where I love myself. I read a sign a few weeks ago on line that said "Lions don't lose sleep over the opinion of sheep". And, it's true. I don't lose sleep over who doesn't like me, who does, what mistakes I've made, what things I could have done differently, etc. I'm not living my life for anyone but myself.

But, at what point are you just existing - not living? I've become complacent. I wouldn't say that I've become smug, but I've definitely come to a point where I've settled for where I am, and have made no effort to make better choices.

For the past four days I've been in extreme pain. I can barely walk at the moment, and it scares me. Have I really bargained with myself that behavior is ok as long as the "at leasts" still exist? At least I can still walk? At least I can take care of hygiene without the help of others? At least I can still drive? What are these "At leasts" that have floated their way to the surface of my conscience. Since when did "at least" become more important than trying harder?

I'll share a little secret. I am not perfect. I am not above making mistakes. I am sometimes a hypocrite. I sometimes make the wrong choices. I often times ignore the voice in my head telling me to get out and exercise because, lets face it, sitting on the sofa watching T.V. seems way more fun.

I haven't been able to walk for 4 days. I prayed, and cried, and negotiated. Please, let it be anything but blood clots in my leg. I've never had a blood clot. I stupidly looked up blood clots in the leg on Web MD. Has anyone else ever noticed that no matter what symptom you look up on Wed MD it always ends in "death"?

The prognosis? I'm fat. I have varicose veins. I've let myself go. I became complacent. I have Phlebitis, or, the inflammation of the veins in my legs, caused by having varicose veins. You don't realize how precious the ability to walk is until you suddenly can't, anymore, without pain.

I went to an imaging specialist in Dickson City yesterday to have an ultrasound done on my legs. I feel that this derived from Medieval torture. At least, on fat legs... it seems like torture. They push, hard, with that instrument, to get a clear picture of your veins - from groan to toe. Down the inner AND outter parts of your legs, down the tops of your legs, even behind your knees. Then they tap you, hard, to create a bounce in the flow. You hold your breathe. You exhale. They tap you again. I yelped out loud several times. The tech had to remind me to breathe. "If you don't breathe, your blood stops flowing properly, and this will take longer" he said. Sweet Jesus, no. I starred at the ceiling. I just repeated over and over again "This, too, shall pass - God be with me - This, too, shall pass". I may have cried. A lot.

In the grand scheme of things - phlebitis doesn't "sound" that terrible. It can become terrible. It can turn into DVT, which no one wants. I don't want to ever hear the words "You have blood clots in your legs".

The worst part of yesterday - I was alone. BJ made it to the Ultrasound place right before I went in, but he wasn't allowed to be with me. All day, all I really wanted was my Mom. I'm a grown ass woman, and I needed my Mom to hold my hand to tell me it's going to be ok. Is that ridiculous? I don't think it is. When don't we need our Mom's to tell us it's going to be ok?

Dad's are there to be our hero's and beat the hell out of shitty boyfriends. Mom's fix things that you think are broken.

So, tonight I get my round of steroids and antibiotics to "fix" the inflammation in my leg. Once the inflammation goes down, I will be able to walk (normally) again. You just don't realize how great walking is, until you can't.

Until my rounds of new prescriptions are done - I won't be able to go back on Contrave - the new medicine that my doctor put me on last week. Contrave is the combination of two different medicines. Bupropion is an antidepressant medicine. Naltrexone blocks the effects of narcotic medicines and alcohol. The going theory is that, food, like drugs and alcohol, is an addiction. I have to agree with this thought because there are some things that I have to steer clear from, because I know I'll plow through them like no one's business. You get a euphoric high when you eat things that make you not want to stop. That's addiction. Contrave is not an appetite suppressant. It triggers your brain to not think about your "addiction" and helps you to make better choices. Since being on Contrave, I haven't had the impulses to eat like I did without it. It wasn't always that I was "hungry" - more that I knew if I had something, it would make me feel really good.

So, the morale of the story is - don't let yourself go. Don't let the "at leasts" get in the way of the "I can" and "I will". You won't know how great the ability to walk is until you can't anymore.

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