When it hurts this good you gotta play it twice

With Thanksgiving upon us Americans tomorrow, I've been making a point to publicly acknowledge just what is it I am thankful for this year.

I have so much in my life to be overwhelmed with gratitude over, however, I am also in a odd state.

It has been over 18 months since my weight loss surgery.

So much has changed for me in this time period. For the most part, I would not change a moment.

Yet, as I said, I find myself in a weird state.

I am mourning for the life I can not have.

Which sounds strange, as I am now thinner and healthier, physically and mentally than I've ever been

Except this time of transition, as it has been one long stretch of transition, from a woman who weighed nearly to 300 pounds to who I am today, provides me moments I would not expect.

I miss being able to eat normally. Granted, I do not know what that is, as I have never ate in a manner considered healthy.

Eating for me now is just a chore, something I check off my to do list to keep myself going.

I remember how much thought I used to put into food, planning my day around what I would eat. When I would eat. How much I would eat.

I also remember the lengths I would go to to hide my bingeing from the world.

When self-checkouts became a thing, I was never happier, as that meant I could just buy what I wanted, without conjuring up a story as to why I was buying a sheet cake and gallons of ice cream.

I no longer had to feel the need to explain away my drugs of choice.

Most likely, no clerk ever cared about what I was buying, but I always felt the need to justify my behavior.

And that woman, the one who ate her feelings away, I don't miss her as much as I once did.

But I miss the life that she helped to rob me of

A life where I could go on a dinner date and not have to whip out my wallet card to show the waiter in order to be granted permission to order off the kids' menu

A life where I don't have to worry about eating food that will cause me to vomit

And so on

My body dismorphia is still part of me. It cracks me up that I never saw myself as large as I once was and now, I don't see myself the size I am.

I still think I'm one of the largest people in any space I enter.

I am convinced the only reason I now wear smaller clothing is because of vanity sizing, not the pounds I took off

The other week at work, a regular patron came in and told me how good I look, how much weight she's noticed I've lost and wanted to know my "secret"

I told her simply that I eat much smaller portions and left it at that

My coworker, after the patron had walked away (and this was the second time in under 30 minutes I had had a regular patron compliment my appearance) made some remark about how she didn't get it, as I did not look any different to her

And any joy I had felt dissipated.

Except part of the process of the past few years has been becoming more vocal. Voicing my opinion. Not allowing others to shame me. Falling in love with myself

And I remembered at that moment all that I am. And it doesn't matter what the label in my pants says. Or what others think of me

Or at least, it doesn't matter as much to me as it once did

For at this point in my life, I really like who I am

I like that instead of eating my feelings, I now turn to friends to discuss them

I don't let myself build up walls to protect myself from others. I let others in, let them see me for who I am

I let them see the woman that the Lord has created

And that means more to me than the ability to eat normally, as I'd rather be a person who loves fiercely and allows others to love her than a woman who isn't able to do those things because she chooses the so-called comfort of food over all.

I think of two Bible verses in particular and I know, no matter what crazy games my brain plays on me, what others may say to me because of their own insecurities, etc, that I am a child of God. And I am loved.

And for that, I am immeasurably thankful

“By the grace of God, I am what I am.” — 1 Corinthians 15:10

“Whenever you feel unloved, unimportant, or insecure, remember to whom you belong.” — Ephesians 2:19-22