photo credit: ant.photos

This came hot on the heels of Wednesday night’s slump (Oh, I’m so tired — I can’t do more than 20 minutes of cardio…) and certainly has psychological and physical ties to Tuesday night, when I couldn’t fall asleep until about 2:00 a.m.

photo credit: krissikes

I’ll probably get into details leading up to the crisis, and the emotions involved (I am a therapist after all), but for now it’s enough to know that the crisis was diverted from becoming much bigger.

Here are the steps from my Preparation Stage that I drew upon to identify and head off the problem as soon as I was able:

• 1.4: Self-talk and visualization
• 1.5: Set my focus
• 1.7: Journaling
• 2.4: Sleep schedule
• 4.1: Select a few supportive friends to be my safety net (and reached out to them)

Active steps I took to prevent the problem from becoming bigger:

1. Mentioned my concerns to Supportive Female Friend, even though we didn’t have enough time to really talk about it.
2. Called Supportive Male Friend, left a message saying I needed him and to please call me back ASAP.
3. Reviewed my focus, my journal, and my visualizing.
4. Arranged to get an extra hour of sleep last night.

photo credit: jaxxon

Here are the results from the steps I took:

• Supportive Male Friend called back and let me open up, admit my mistakes, and express my fears and concerns. He talked about his experiences (he also exercises 2 hours/day — enjoys walking to and from work) with motivation and asked hard questions. I didn’t shy away from the questions, which I’m proud of, because they stung a bit. In the end, he was right. How much do I want this, anyway?
• Supportive Female Friend called this morning at 6:20 to offer support and make sure I was exercising. Even though we hadn’t had a chance to get into details about anything yesterday, she was still loving enough to follow up and show her support. That was pretty amazing.
• I set a new focus based on these conversations and then got back to work.

photo credit: margolove

What’s fascinating to me is that last night, for the first time, someone outside of my support network mentioned to me that I looked thin. Timing is everything.

photo credit: serhio

Precontemplation is the stage before you are even thinking about making a change. Change isn’t on your radar. Maybe you aren’t even aware that a change needs to be made, or not willing to consider options for making change.

This is all just a nice, fancy way to say “denial.”

photo credit: Esther_G

When you’re in precontemplation, you sort of sail along. You may concoct workarounds for your problem — justify it, rationalize it, make allowances for it, whatever — but you don’t really think about actually changing anything.

In essence, you embrace the comb-over.

photo credit: Generation X-Ray

I documented snippets of my precontemplation (here, here, and here, as examples). Basically, I gave up the weight-loss fight after my complicated surgery. I just needed to recover. I rationalized that I should allow my body the energy it needed to heal and get better — rather than pushing or straining.

And then I let go, and I bobbed along that way for virtually an entire year. Sure, I’d notice from time to time that my clothes were getting tighter, that I was digging into my “fat stash” for something to wear on a Saturday night, and that Cold Stone Creamery had returned to my self-soothing repertoire. But, for whatever reason, it didn’t matter. I was pre-contemplating. In denial.

Sometime in the early fall, after I passed my licensing exam, my precontemplation ended. I remember the moment vividly. I was in and out of a Saturday afternoon nap on the couch, sandwiched between two sleeping dogs, when suddenly I slipped into a vision.

Okay, I don’t know if it was a vision per se. It was a daydream, or a half-dream, or an imagination run wild or whatever, but it felt very real.

I was walking down a street — like a pedestrian mall. I was window-shopping, and I remember coming to a store with a large front window that was dark on the inside. Standing there, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection. There I was — definitely me — but thin. Thin! It felt so natural, so normal. There were my facial features, but more defined. My blue eyes blinked out of my own face. My clothes hung well, and they were clothes I would definitely wear. They were my style. My hair. My shoes.

photo credit: Joseph Robertson

I have never been thin. I don’t think I’ve ever even successfully imagined myself as thin. But, after all of these years of therapy and of resolving my food issues and accepting myself the way I am and working toward a general state of health, there remains deep within me the hope — the belief — of a thinner me. Some part of my brain can even conceptualize it. I’m here to tell you that it isn’t the everyday part of my brain that understands this concept. Even now, it’s difficult to re-conjure the image.

But the image was there. And for whatever reason, on a Saturday afternoon, I could believe in it. It felt good. Like I could inhabit that body. Like I could still be me and look that way. Like it would fit.

And that was the end of my precontemplation.

photo credit: Anna Gay

Unfortunately, we’re human and full of foibles and complications. Models and theories, no matter how well-researched, do not always take into consideration the many factors that play in to our day-to-day decisions.

Such is the case with a famous model called the “Stages of Change” model. It was developed in the 1970’s by some “transtheoretical” researchers who were trying to help people quit smoking. Although this model has been researched multiple times as a way to help bring about change, it does not seem to be an effective tool for that purpose.

What I do find helpful in this model, though, is the way that it describes processes that naturally occur. At least, I have seen this cycle in my own life. Whenever I have brought about a significant change, I can usually recognize these stages of change — but only in hindsight. I’ve never successfully been able to use them to go from zero to sixty in the change machine.

The stages are:

1. Precontemplation
2. Contemplation
3. Preparation
4. Action
5. Maintenance
6. Relapse

I like how the model accounts for “relapse” (a substance-abuse term, to be sure, but one that can apply to any effort at positive change) and normalizes it so that when it happens, it doesn’t throw you entirely off track. At any moment, you may need to step back to a previous stage for strength and progress.

Looking back, I can see exactly how I worked through the first 3 stages to arrive at (and cycle through) stages 4/5/6, which is where I currently am in the process of the 2010 Experiment with Huizenga’s Wow!Rx.

I sometimes get a little too dependent on feedback — immediate gratification — and it can mess with my head. Refresh, refresh, refresh, devour comments, repeat.

I sort of need this to be a more solitary journey — me and me alone. (I might change my mind about that, but this is how I feel right now.)

The idea is that by the time you read this, I will already be waaaaay past it. I don’t know how long this phase will last, but a little psychic distance feels apropriate right now. A little perspective and mindfulness.

I have lost pounds since Thanksgiving, and it’s all okay. I am percolating a plan. I will post more soon. I promise.

This morning: 332.2
This time last year: 279.6
The difference: 52.6

Hi. There are 52 weeks in a year. That’s +1 pound each week this year.

Well, damn.

Here we go again.

Modern update on a very famous child psychology test from the 60’s.

There are times when I feel this way all day long.

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Did you see this story on Friday morning’s Today Show? This guy lost over 400 pounds in 5+ years.

Okay. That’s a good story — although I’m somewhat annoyed by a personality that chooses to call the local TV station in search of weight loss help, but whatever… I’m also always interested by people who lose a bunch of weight and then become personal trainers. (This happens to Biggest Loser contestants a lot, I notice.) Honestly, I have a really satisfying, fulfilling life that I have worked really, really hard to build. I can’t imagine totally changing my career and life’s purpose because I lost weight.

BUT.

The thing that really struck me from the segment was the trainer’s approach to discourage a great dramatic change. He did so by encouraging the guy to alternate good-eating days with “free days.” For someone who weighs 650 pounds, this represented enough of a change to help him start losing weight.

I’m reminded that my own most successful weight-loss year started off in exactly the same way — by making a series of small (sometimes VERY small) steps.

This is an important reminder for me this morning, as I head off to my first Weight Watcher meeting in months. As I recover from last night’s binge, which actually made me sick. As I feel daunted by the task ahead — losing 100-120 more pounds.

Here we go.

• I was indeed able to maintain my weight under 289 for many months, and then I made the decision to travel to my parents’ house and help my mom sort through her secret, hoarded stash of fabric and art supplies.

  That’s when the world exploded.

  I binged my way back up to 300 pounds.

  Boom.

• I have come to an important realization. It is no coincidence that I lost nearly 80 pounds during a year when I did not visit home. Not even for Christmas. I need to do more soul-searching about this, but it’s a big realization.

• My ex playfully grabbed my boob the other day and was startled. “Wow. Your breasts are really big right now.” Well, 25 pounds has to go somewhere, I replied. “Then I’d better enjoy them while I can!”

• Although I had temporarily stopped my involvement on dating sites until I could get through my recent stuff, there’s a new man match.com that I’ve been wanting to meet. He finally emailed me on my last day at my parents’ house, and is interested in meeting sometime soon. I wish he had started answering back my emails before I gained 25 pounds, but hey. Maybe he won’t care. (Yeah, right.)

• Feeling sort of fat and ungainly. Feeling better than I was 2 weeks ago (now that the family and work fallout is dying down), but still feeling pretty off-kilter.

• I didn’t attend my regular WW meeting on Saturday due to July 4th. I reached out to my WW leader via email yesterday. She hasn’t written back, but maybe she will before the end of the week?

  Hope so.

  I need all the support I can get right now.

I’m pleased to say that my body has largely regained its health and vigor.

I have decided not to pursue the law suit against the surgeon whose simple error caused such grief.

When I realized how difficult the recovery was, and how emotional, I decided to give myself 6 months to recover.

My goal during that time was to maintain my weight-loss achievements and just heal.

I released myself from the need to lose weight and instead just focused on getting my life back.

I’m pleased to say that in 6 months, I have managed to stay under the 289-pound mark.

I still no longer qualify for weight-loss surgery.

I am back to making art and writing in my journal and doing other things that are important for my mental health.

I am grateful to all of the people — near and far — who have expressed their care and concern for me during this time. In particular, I am grateful to Sarah J., Vickie, Janie, Laura, John, Barbara, and the others who reached out to me in care and concern (and kept reaching out, even when I couldn’t reach back). I’m truly moved.

I am not one to make grand, sweeping statements of intention, but I am pretty sure that I can say this: I am back.

Honestly, a renewal could not be more timely right now. That unanticipated and frightful hospitalization is likely to transform into a turning point, for better or worse. It would be easy for me (and it would be expected of the Old Mal) to throw up my hands, play the victim, and decide that losing weight is Just Too Much for me to handle right now. It’s natural for me to look upward at the looming mountain left to climb, rather than look backward at how far I have already come, and decide that it’s just not worth it.

After all, losing 75 pounds has dramatically changed my life already. My knees, hips, shoulders, and other joints don’t bother me the way they did. I’m wearing different clothing sizes and styles than I have ever dared before. I know that I carry myself differently and am more “socially acceptable” than I have ever been in my adult life. Plus, I’m sick. I get fatigued. I am stressed by the ins-and-outs of medical leave, disability insurance, and whether or not I’ll be able to pay my rent. I’m tired. I’m worn down. I might not have it in me right now.

Not to get all cliche or anything, but sometimes I feel a bit like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I guess that halfway through a journey is as good a time as any to have a little sit-down talk with yourself. Here are the questions I might ask, if I were to pretentiously speak to/about myself in second and third person:

• How far have you come?
• How far will you go?
• How did you get to this point?
• What course corrections will you make to ensure that you hit your target?
• Do you have what you need to get there?
• Are you in a foreign land? Do you speak the language or have a reliable guide?
• Are you enjoying the journey? If not, why not?

I’m going to take some time to think about and answer these questions. Do you have any thoughts? Questions you might like to see answered halfway through a long, difficult journey? Ideas that might help me refocus for the last half?