When Was Your "Day of Reckoning?"

I was going to write about my day yesterday, but that has gotten shoved to a different post, so I can write about this. I particularly like this quote at the top:

“When a defining moment comes along,

you define the moment... or the moment

defines you."

–Roy 'Tin Cup' McAvoy

It got me wondering when you had yours, or whether you have yet. Mine was October 28, 2008. I am not sure, but I don't think I ever posted my story, although I may have mentioned it in passing. And a strange story it was, too.

First, some background. I had always been skinny until I turned 19 years old. In fact, when I was sixteen, my hometown doctor diagnosed me with anorexia and threatened to put me in the hospital if I didn't gain some weight, and fast. He completely ignored the fact that I had just left my abusive mother and moved in with my grandma, and that I had been battling a flu that I just couldn't shake, and that while I was throwing up all the time, I was not making myself do so (not that he called me bulimic). I just couldn't keep even my favorite foods down. Still, as much as I would like to say he was wrong, there was a part of me that wanted to get to 98 lbs, just to see if I could do it. And there was a part of me that felt like food was the only thing I could control. I was 102 at the time, down from 132 before I got the flu.

My grandma started making me clean my plate whether I wanted to or not, and she said if I was hungry, she would make me something in the middle of the night if I would eat it. Although the only time she did that (toast and jam), it made me throw up. Still, that seemed to be the ticket, as when I went back to the doctor a week later, I was up to 110 and he was satisfied with that. I got up to 124 and stayed there, and I was very happy at that weight.

When I turned 19, I had gotten mixed up with a man that I really wish I had never met. I would really rather not get into all that here, but suffice it to say he was controlling and critical, and the only reason I was with him in the first place was that I had felt sorry for him. Then I got emotionally attached to him and felt stuck. He liked me because of my body, although he was still critical of my weight. I started gaining, which I suspect may have been a subconscious way of trying to get rid of him. I got to between 140-156 lbs and he never shut up about how "fat" I was (I had no idea at the time that I was just barely above my healthy range at 156). So I dieted so he'd leave me alone, but I only ever got down to 137, which still wasn't good enough for him.

After I left him (partly for my current husband and partly because I actually hated him), I thought I would lose weight. But I didn't! My (now) husband was not critical of my body and he took me out to eat all the time. And I was used to not having enough money for rent, let alone anything fun with my ex-boyfriend (who was awful with money, and since he rarely had any of his own, he was awful with my money)--certainly not desserts from a restaurant! Wow, I had a good time! Ice cream cake from Red Robin's, chocolate explosion cheesecake from Humpty's or Boston Pizza, etc.

On top of that, my husband had my stepson on weekends, and in an effort to give him time with his dad, I stayed out of the way for the most part. (Which didn't work out so well. Poor kid thought I was avoiding him because I didn't like him. Just goes to show you that you should never, ever listen to Dr. Laura. Anyway...). So on weekends, food and TV became my entertainment. I felt like it was getting out of control, but by then I was hooked. I started to wonder what happened to food being the only thing I could control.

I got up to about 185, and then my friend Shyla and I started a competition to lose weight. I decided to try the Atkins diet, on which I lasted 9 days, and after which I immediately gained 20 lbs, putting me at 205. Needless to say, I lost that competition.

Which brings us to the recent past.

I had joined TOPS in July or August of 2008, but I wasn't really making any headway. I'd lose a bit, gain a bit, lose a bit more, gain even more, etc. I wasn't sure what I was even doing there, except my doctor had suggested I join. But I mean, it was just a bunch of older ladies sitting around talking for an hour. Bo-ring! How could this possibly help me? Plus, at the beginning and end of the meetings, we had to hold hands and recite the TOPS pledge (beginning) and the "Helping Hands" poem (end). What kind of cult-like nonsense was this!? Besides, I was tired, and I didn't feel like it. I knew I had to lose, as I was sitting at an uncomfortable 240 lbs, but I started coming to fewer and fewer meetings. I didn't need them, I told myself. I could do it on my own.

Around this same time, my Dad was trying to find renters for his house, because he had a series of setbacks that resulted in him losing one job (he had to go to the hospital because he had gangrene from diabetes), and when he found a new one, his employer skipped out on everyone and he never got paid. So he needed help with his bills, and it was just him in a big 3-bedroom house with a 1-bedroom basement suite. He had found a couple of renters in the past few months, but both of them turned out to be drug addicts and he had to kick them out...both times they'd stolen items of his on top of everything else.

I was horrified at the fact that two renters in a row turned out to be drug addicts (crack, specifically, I think). I started to wonder how big of a problem drug addiction was in my city. I started researching it, and whether there is any hope for them. Little did I know that researching it would bring an insight into myself. (Note: I have never been on drugs).

I found a really good website, which I wish I had bookmarked because I no longer know what it was. It talked about how there is hope for drug addicts, but only if they want to change and only if they have a good support system. That means a support group, which they have to attend for pretty much the rest of their lives. It talked about how they are most vulnerable to relapse when they get it in their head that they don't need their support group anymore, and they can do it on their own.

Now wait just a minute--this was starting to sound like my thought processes.

It went on to say that if they gave in to this impulse, they were pretty much guaranteed to fail.

"Wait, now...who are we talking about, again? I thought we were talking about addicts. I'm not an addict!" I thought to myself. "And I can do it on my own...can't...I?" but I wasn't so sure anymore. The article made a lot of sense to me, even though it was talking about a drug problem, and not a weight problem.

I decided to go to the next meeting after all. I also started this blog, and my mindset changed. I decided that I didn't need specific "cheat" days, as I was sure they would come up all by themselves (and they did). I decided it had to be realistic this time, which meant something I could do for the rest of my life. If I caught myself thinking, "I can't..." (go out to eat, eat this, do this, etc.), I tried to think of a way I could do it, or change it to an "I shouldn't..., because..." instead.

And here I am, nine months later and 42 pounds lighter.