In a moment of forgiveness

I waver between being extremely forgiving and being a stubborn ass.

I have forgiven people in my life for grievances that most would not. My ex-boyfriend should be someone I never speak to again, looking at the long list of things he did/didn't do over the course of our relationship. However, much to his surprise, I still speak to him to this day.

I am stubborn when I think I am right about something. Most recent instance: the fate of Glenn on the Walking Dead. I knew my theory on what happened to him was correct, even though the show took its sweet time revealing his fate. When the show finally gave up the goods, I gloated to my fellow Walking Dead watchers that I had been right all along. I reveled in the knowledge that I had been proved correct.

Recently, I decided to share the YouTube video of a talk I had given over a year ago on my history of being bullied and my attempts to overcome it. This was a huge deal to me, as when I initially gave the talk, I kept it secret from almost everyone I know, as I didn't want to see their faces in the audience, as I was worried I wouldn't be as authentic as I knew I needed to be. I also didn't want my relationship with God to be put out there yet, as I was struggling with it.

So, because I decided if I could post the progression of my weight loss since my gastric sleeve on Facebook, if I could share this blog on Facebook, if I was trying to be so open about my struggles with food addiction, recovery from surgery, recovery in general, my new season in life, I could share that talk. So I did.

People I went to high school with reached out to me, one rather publicly, others through private message. They apologized for not knowing how miserable I was back then, then preceded to tell me the way that they had seen me back in those days, which of course, did not mesh with my version of events. My stubborn self grew angry reading these messages. It wasn't helping me nearly 20 years later to be told that one person thought I had perfect skin and was a good writer. I needed to know these things back then, when I was so angry at the world for so many things, not just the way I was treated by classmates, family members and teachers. Once I stopped seeing red when I re-read these notes, I realized that perhaps if I had heard these comments back then I would not have been ready to hear them then either. So, almost twenty years after I graduated from high school, I find myself more able to forgive the bullies. I find myself more able to forgive the ones who just stood there and laughed at what was said to me. The ones who told me it was all in my head and that I was taking it the wrong way. I'm still working on it, but maybe I'll be able to go to my high school reunion one day.

Making made the decision to be so open with my surgery and life has been an experience. Those who know me well know how private I am. There are very few people in my life I am completely open with and it is terrifying to trust them so completely.

There is something intangible that is happening in my life because of allowing myself to be vulnerable.

I find that I am forgiving myself.

The old adage that we are our own worst enemy rings so true for me.

I stopped writing for over a decade thanks to the experience I had in my MFA program. My mentor in that program was not much of a mentor to me, because I refused to write the way he wanted me to. Due to being a stubborn ass and letting what he said to me privately infect my brain, I decided that I could not write a damn thing, that I had wasted two years and over $50,000 by entering this program. I berated myself for not choosing a better major in undergrad, which made me unemployable. I told myself that I should have waited to enter a MFA program, because who was I to think that I had any business being there, as young as I was, as inexperienced as I was. So, instead of continuing to write, instead of following my passion, I gave up.

And being a stubborn ass, giving up is the worst feeling in the world for me. I hate not accomplishing goals I have set for myself. I hate failure.

One of the biggest parts of my weight loss journey is the feeling that I have had that I had to resort to surgery because I had failed. I had dieted before. I had gotten on the Weight Watchers' bandwagon a few times. I still know the point values for certain foods, which is how dedicated I was to Weight Watchers. I still measure my meals using WW branded utensils. Thanks to Weight Watchers, all the times I went on their plan, I lost close to 90 pounds counting points, if you add up my totals from the years I was a member there.

I also did Jenny Craig. I was fanatical about sticking to Jenny. I gave up my social life to stick to that plan. I lost 65 pounds on Jenny.

Great potential success stories for both of those franchises. However, considering that in February 2015, before I started my pre-surgery diet, I was dangerously close to 300 pounds, I failed at dieting the conventional way.

And the fear of failure at life after surgery is a constant monkey on my back. I know that just because I had surgery, it will not be easy to keep weight off. It's not as easy as it was right after surgery to lose weight. So I struggle with the fear that I will fail even at this.

Yet, at the same time, this feels different that my previous attempts at dieting. Certainly, it is a true life style change to have a stomach the size of an egg now. That's not the only reason it feels different.

One thing I did differently this time was to work on addressing why I ate. I still work on that. I still work on trying to not replace binge eating with other unhealthy habits.

And part of the work I am doing on understanding why I eat is to forgive myself. Inside of me, there is a hurt little girl who needs to be told that her pain is okay. Yet, she also needs to heal. And she is, slowly.

So much of my view of myself has been my weight. I have been fat for most of my life. Even now, 80 pounds lighter, I know I'm still fat. I'm less cuddly than I used to be, but I'm nowhere near a stick figure.

However, that's okay. I am not my weight. Part of forgiving myself is that I need to stop letting my weight define me. I am an intelligent, loving person. I am incredibly generous. I love animals, maybe a little too much. I am talented at various things, from writing to knitting. I have wonderful friends that support me. I have family that loves and supports me. My inner self is a supermodel.

And I am all of those things, regardless of how much I weigh.

And another large part in forgiving myself has been the change in my relationship with God.

I was a stubborn ass when it came to God. There are events in my past that made me doubt Him. That made me doubt that He loved me.

The day I was the driver who caused a horrific car accident that claimed the life of someone

The day I saw my father lying on a gurney in the emergency room, unable to move or breathe on his own, having suffered a stroke at the age of 52

The day I saw my father, in the ICU, in a medically induced coma, thanks to a septic infection that was shutting down his body

The day I was assaulted by a "friend"

The day I was fired from my "dream" job

There are more than those, but that gives an idea.

I was so angry with Him for so long. I had no idea why if He loved me, I was suffering. So, I decided that he must not exist.

This was my life for too long. I denied God.

Then I started seeing things. A few examples:

At the end of my rope at a job that I loved, but was going nowhere, I knew I needed to find a new opportunity. I was also down on my luck financially. After meditating, I found a job opening at a library system that I was eager to work for.

8 weeks later, I started my current job in Charlotte, with a large pay increase

My father lived through both of his near death illnesses.

Losing my "dream" job led me to go back to school to become a librarian, which is truly my calling.

The assault by that friend led to me shedding a lot of toxic people from my life, which bettered it.

Deciding to pursue bariatric surgery, then discovering that my insurance would not cover it, after months of doctor appointments and medical tests.

My employer added bariatric surgery as a covered medical benefit

Making it through my surgery without complications.

I don't know exactly when I started to realize that I was wrong about God.

However, I do know what led me back to him was partly my recovery from surgery. After numbing myself with food for so long, I was awake again. And I started regularly attending icuTalks, the ministry that had invited me to speak about bullying. I realized that I saw shades of myself in the testimony of the other speakers. I realized that although I had been fighting Him for so long, I was the only one angry in the relationship. God had never abandoned me. He had been there all along, because looking back over my life, there were a few times where I could have just given up on life itself. But I never did, because He did not let me.

And I decided to go to church one Sunday. I walked through the doors of Mosaic that morning terrified. I left feeling overwhelmed by love.

I realized that one reason I had been eating for so long was to fill this void in my life. I tried to fill the void with food, with men, with shopping, etc, but after that day at Mosaic, I knew what the void had been.

I had been without Jesus.

And now, the void isn't there anymore.

I am no longer so scared of failure, because I know that I can't fail now, because I'm not the one guiding my life. He is. And I don't doubt that He knows what he is doing.

And thanks to His love, I am forgiving myself.