I'm so unhappy.

I'm so unhappy, and I don't know how to make it better. Before, every unpleasant thing passed so that I was unhappy for a day or two and then I got used to the idea of said unpleasant thing and found happiness again.

But no matter how hard I try, I can't get used to the idea of waiting any longer. I've waited and it was right there, I was two weeks away and now its supposed to be in some unknown date in the future. I don't know how to be okay again. Everyone thinks I should be okay and I'm not. I don't know how to be. So I keep crying all the time and I have to wait until no one else is around because they all expect me to be used to the idea that this surgery will happen later.

I'm so unhappy. And I cant stop. It doesnt mater that "things happen for a reason" or that "it will happen in time." I'm so unhappy. I don't even have words for it when words have always been enough for me. I just want to give up on everything and stop trying to live anymore. I want to stay in my room and hope that time speeds by without me so that I don't have to face the situations that make me miserable.

But I'm trying.

One of the things I was looking forward to after the surgery was throwing away all my new clothes and staring over with new ones. So today, I cleaned out my closet and I bought some new clothes. It wasnt what I really wanted, but it was close. I figured I should spend my life waiting for something that may never happen anyway.

And I still go out with my friends and go to the gym and go to work, but I feel like a liar the whole time because I've given up inside and now I'm just pretending to be okay. I don't care if you think I'm being dramatic or too emotional.

I'm so unhappy.

Oh, do the good things happen?

I made video, but I havent said anything here about it, but apparently my surgery cant be paid for until the estate goes through probate, which I've heard takes at least six months. This would mean me cancelling surgery until that time. I heard this on Tuesday and I took it really hard. I had a very rough time of it.

So, yesterday I applied for a loan to pay for the surgery until the inheritance comes through. I'm waiting to hear back on that one. I just really dont want to wait anymore. I know others have waited much longer and some never get it at all, but its really hard to have a date and then have it snatched away like that. I guess I'll call the loan lady back today, I havent heard from her yet.

If I cant get this loan, I think it might be awhile before I'm okay again. Its seems all I've done my whole life is wait for it to start. I thought the fat would end. I thought I had a way out and now I have to wait more.

I know that sometimes things happen for a reason but I find it hard to believe that a God who gave us free will is orchastrating everything to "his perfect timing." Either He lets us do what we want to do, or He controlls us. How is there an in between? So, I guess for me, it is finding the place God wants me to be with this news. After all, He knew what would happen whether or not He made it that way. He knows still what will happen. I really hope I can find a place to be okay about not having surgery. I shouldn't hope so much after being dissapointed so many times in my life. I'm afraid to want things but I can't not want this.

I've been going to the gym four days a week for the last month and I'm only gaining weight. Its so dissapointing. Its only affirmation that I can't do this alone.

For now, I'm anxious and dissapointed and waiting for news.

Sarah Jo

Sarah complains about fatness. Again.

My surgery is exactly four weeks from today. Four weeks. That seems so very far away and yet no time at all. Will it really happen? Will my life really change? I'm having a difficult time pretending to be happy when I know that it can all change and then I don't have to pretend anymore. I mean, I am happy about lots of things, of course, but I don't think I could ever accurately articulate just how awful being fat is. And even if I could somehow find the words, you could never know. Because, maybe, for a moment you would feel what I feel, but then you get to walk away. I cant walk away.

This is the beginning of my fourth week at the gym and I've actually gained weight. I've been making better eating choices and exercises and I gain wait. Its so discouraging. This is why I've failed so many times before.

Every Tuesday and Thursday I have a class on the second floor. Every Tuesday and Thursday I stop to "read" the bulletin board on the second floor long enough to slow my breathing back down again so that everyone in my class doesn't hear me panting from going up one set of stairs. And somehow, this is so much more awful than spending half and hour on the elliptical because at least then I'm supposed to be winded. And I've read about how fat deposits inside the ribcage so that the lungs don't expand as much as they should, even though the larger body needs more oxygen than before. I know that being overweight throws off the center of balance, causing my walk to be more inefficient and energy-expensive than a normal walk. I know that my muscles have to carry around an excess of more than 100 pounds. None of these things matter when I'm panting on the landing, looking up at the next half of the stairs. Being fat doesn't mean I'm lazy, but it sure does look that way.

I always feel like I have to work harder at work so that people will see that I'm not lazy. Do people make that assumption? And then I always wonder if I smell bad because other fat people smell bad and I'm not sure if its something inherent about being fat that makes a person smell or if maybe people don't wash well. But what if I smell bad like those other fat people?

I'm not sure if anyone else in the room notices that I cant cross my legs and that crossing my arms requires a most unnatural effort.

I swear, I'm going to tell you every wonderful thing that happens after the surgery. I will tell you when my jeans fit again and when the armrests at the movies no longer plague me. I will tell you when I can buy rings again and exactly how it feels to breathe.

What things will change? What things will never change? For example, I am a wiggly person. I can't sit still for very long; I am uncomfortable! When I lose weight, will I be comfortable, or will I be fidgety at any size? And I don't know what my body shape is. You know, they say there is a triangle, hourglass, inverted triangle, and rectangle but I'm just fat. I don't know where my hips and waist are underneath my skin. I don't know what my face shape is. Will the double chin melt away to reveal a long face? Will it be square or oval?

And will there ever be a day that a man will look at me and I don't cringe, waiting for the look of disgust that must surely be below the surface? Will I ever, ever know what its like to feel pretty? I've heard the words before, but only when someone is trying to comfort me, and that's not comforting.

People tell me to be positive. Its almost over! Still, I have so much grief, so much pain that I never talked about. I never acknowledged. And even though this surgery is coming up soon, I'm still here, everyday. Still here. And I don't think I'll ever be anything other than the girl who used to be fat. It will be there, always. I am who I am, partly because of being a fat woman. I'll have to figure out how to be a not-fat Sarah later, but what do I do with girl who learned to be woman who lived in this body right now?

I really look forward to having problems like that.

Things I don't remember:

I don’t remember all kinds of things. I can’t even see the places where those things are missing. I don’t remember any of the good things. I focus on the bad things like living in that hotel and hearing mom and dad scream at one another. My whole life has been bad thing after bad thing, but I’ve been happy. My parents deny the bad things, downplay them until they are no more than my dramatic overreaction to normal things. “It could be worse” they say, “You ought to be grateful for what you have” But I can’t muster any gratefulness for seeing my mom being shut into the back of the police cruiser and I can’t downplay how furious I feel when the water is turned off, but he’s still drinking beer. So, I don’t remember what its like to feel content and safe. And I don’t remember those trips to the park or how I played softball. I don’t know anything about those vacations we never took pictures of. They are just elements of stories that have disappeared for me. I do remember the prickly feeling of the foam padding on the floor when the carpet was gone. Why didn’t we have carpet, anyway? And I remember sitting in the back of the car while mom hunted for Dad inside the bar. I don’t remember the birthday parties or the happy Christmases or the sunny days at the pool. I don’t know what you intended for me, but this wasn’t it, was it?

A students guide to procrastination:

Hey guys, I guess I haven't posted here in awhile. The last month of the semester is always so hectic, but I guess you probably know that.

Mostly, I've become obsessed with weight loss surgery (wls) and it pretty much consumes my every free thought. Well, that and boys. Sigh. Haha. Not really. Mostly. Hmm. Anyway, I finally have all of my pre-op appointments scheduled, so thats cool. I orded all kinds of protien shake samples to try, but I'm waiting till after the surgery to do that because they say your tastes change afterwards. However, I did buy one big thing of kroger protien powder stuff to take now. And I joined a gym, so I'm working out too. The working out and the protien should help me heal faster and if I lose some weight, make the surgery safer too, which is always good. That not-safe surgery might be what the kids are into, but I'm all about safety! (Okay, I was going for grumpy old lady with that last statement, but I think it failed miserably.)

The office comes back tonight! We're having an office party tonight. By "we", I mean Robbie, Jenna, and I. And by "office party", I mean going out to dinner and then watching the office together. But "we" are calling it an "office party". Dessert will be involved (I'm making it, thats why this information is exciting.)

Now, people keep talking about visiting me soon after the surgery. I think I've told everyone, but I will repeat myself: I am a BIG baby. When I'm sick, I am grumpy and whiney. Just to let you know, you enter at your own risk. You may never think of me the same again.

I wrote an essay for creative nonfiction class called, "An addicts guide to parenting" and I'm really pleased with the way it turned out but I can t post it here because apparently there is a debate about whether or not posting something on a blog counts as publishing and most places wont publish previously published materials and my goal is to try to get it published but only after I've completed by present goal of creating an annoyingly long sentance while apparently making up words such as "annoingly" and avoiding that actual work of revising said essay because, as I've probably said before, I truly hate revising even though my professors tell me it is the real work of a good writer and damned if I don't want to be a good writer but I know I certainly don't want to be a "literary" writer as they tend to be published in things people don't read anyway and who wants to be published and not read? Whew.

Seriously though, I gotta get to work.

Sarah Jo!

Video Blogging

So, I've decided to start a video blog on youtube to document my gastric bypass journey thing. I'll still be here, of course, becasue my fingers like the keys much more than my face likes the camera. The reason I've decided to make videos is so that later, I can actually see the changes occuring. Also, there are many other people on youtube with the same situation; I find it so encouraging and informative. I would love to be one of those people. So, if your interested, the link is above, and I'll post the first video here. As a final note, I have to go buy a new webcam becuase this one isnt so great!

Research

I just wanted to let you know about the hourse of research I've done online about nutrition after Gastric bypass surgery. Apparently, I'll be needing lots of whey protien powder as I'll have to mix it in like everything I eat. When you lose weight quickly, your body destroys muscle before fat. So, it is important to get plenty of protien, not only for that, but also to help the incisions heal quickly.

I'll also have to eat only low sugar, low fat items. But, thanks to diabetics and Americas diet industry, there are plenty of products available for that. IN the beginning, I'll only be able to eat about 1/4 of a cup at a time. Eventually, it will be 1 cup. I cant drink while eating or one hour before or after eating. Still, I'll have to somehow get 48-64 ounces of fluid a day and 65-80 grams of protien. This means that a lot of my "eating" will have to be liquids, such as a protien shake, soup, or broth.

I've just found loads of ideas about meals and grocery lists and vitamins and I'm so excited. I'm going to by little tiny plates, cups, and bowls and baby spoons.

Oh, I'll have to work out aerobically for 35 min. a day and later, do strength training three times a week. I'll have to join a gym, I think.

See, I don't expect this to be some kind of cure for fatness. Its gonna be work, of course. But for the first time in my life, I'll be successful at weight loss. Its gonna ge great.

Diary of a fat girl.

I found a woman on youtube who apparently had gastric bypass surgery a few months ago. I began to watch her videos, hoping to get some ideas about what kinds of foods to buy and things I would need. I went back all the way to the beginning so I could see how much she had changed, and, of course, was shocked. But more than that, I was suprised to see so much of myself in her. She had a video showing all the clothes from her closet she couldnt wear, but that she hoped to wear when she lost weight. I nearly cried. I have that same collection in the back of my closet, just waiting.

You know, when you are fat, you buy clothes that are too small to "inspire" you to keep dieting and excercising. What they do instead is mock you. I still cant wear those jeans! And the lady even had concert t-shirts she couldnt wear. SHe said they don't sell big enough t-shirts at concerts because "if you are fat, you don't like music." I loved it. I wonder if anyone else notices me asking what sizes the t-shirts go up to. I wonder what it would be like to buy the one actually made for the girls. Hopefully, I'll find out soon enough.

I am so, so tired of being fat.

Amber put seven month old Kiersten in the corner for "thinking she could get her way by being bad."

Two things:

First, I found a recipe for PF changs spicy chicken on the internet. It wasn't so great. After several adjustments, its amazing! Its nearly the same as the real thing. And the plus side is, I dont have to leave my house. Down side? I'm the one cooking it and cleaning up after. You can't have everything.

Second (and more important), my surgery is schelduled for Tuesday, May 20th. Yay! Goodbye food! Oh wait . . . haha.

Sarah Jo

Saturdays were made for naps, doncha think?

Its spring break now, and I'm happy. I'm not going anywhere, but I will be doing whatever I want to do the moment it suits me to do it. I like that. Yay!

I just finished reading a romance novel that happened in Ireland and I want to go now. Well, I wanted to go before, actually. I want to see everywhere (that has plumbing).

I had a lot to say before I sat down to write, but now I lost it all. I know! I'll share more homework with you!

If I were a room, I would be . . .

My bedroom is my safe place, my alone time, my sanctuary, my temple. It is mostly because of the bolt-lock. The door sits uneven in the crooked doorframe; even if the ancient handle still had its skeleton key, the door wouldn’t lock. When we moved in, the first thing I did was install that lock. I have the only key. No one enters but me.

Then there’s the bed. It sits nestled up against the wall with its warm beige duvet cover and just-right pillows. I don’t like the windows. I covered them with aluminum foil and shades. I want to have complete control in this space; I’ll decide when it should be light or dark. And the carpet. I bought that carpet and dragged it up the stairs. My bare feet are the first to touch it. The color is tropical punch, but it looks like grey with secret bits of pink and teal.

Cheap wood paneling bows away from one wall, revealing hideous 1970’s flowered wallpaper in the crevices. But the paneling is a nice, warm color that matches my little chest. My great-grandfather made the chest. There is a picture of him taped under the lid, with a note for my mother reading, “Hi Red, take care of this for me” in slanted script. The chest is full of extra blankets and pillows, things that are warm and soft and smell of fabric softener and lumber.

And my little bedside lamp. I can turn off the lights from the safety of my bed. There is a TV over there, but its pushed into the corner and covered in dust. It mostly serves as a place to set my tissues. The closet is big enough for my dresser to fit inside. There are poles to hang my clothes on the right and left sides, with the dresser there in front of me. On the left, between the clothes and the floor is the perfect place to sit in the darkness and cry.

Hanging over the bed are those pictures I bought in China in those frames I bought at Wal-Mart. The one in the middle is my favorite: the one with the Chinese characters carved into the bamboo and the long hallway with doorway after doorway after doorway. Things I can’t read. An end I cannot see. But mostly, the memory hanging there on the wall, reminding me how it felt to miss home.

On the opposite wall, my name in pictures. Impossible things like dolphins kissing over a sunset, rainbows, and lighthouses make the letters of my name. The “J” is a lighthouse next to a sweeping cliff, the waters leap up against the brush-stoked rocks. Turmoil. Beauty. Meaning. Painted by that Asian man at the Pork Festival last summer.

I didn’t mention the fuzzy rug. It rests at the side of the bed, the alarm-clock side. The alarm clock isn’t pleasant to hear, but the first moment of my feet touching the ground is that soft, fuzzy rug that reaches up between my toes and tickles the tops of my feet. It had to be white.
But the most important thing is the bolt-lock, that cold, metal thing.

The Reason

The assignment was to write a complete story using only fifty words. Here is my response:

The Reason

When you leave your towels on the toilet, across the headboard, and under the sofa, it shows just how much you do not love me, but that is not the reason I am leaving you. I am in love with your brother, and he picks up after himself.

It must be magic!

So, I'm a fat girl. I know this. Its not really a secret, how could it be? And most of the time I feel like this strange, akward monster filling up too much space in the room. But sometimes, I magically disappear. Let me tell you about one of these times:

It snowed A LOT this weekend, and yesterday and we didn't have very many customers. We started sending staff home until there were just four of us there. This is what happened.

Random guy to my male co-worker: Well, at least if you get snowed in here, you'll be alone with three young women! That won't be to bad, eh? (Suggestive look)
Guy Co-worker: They are all married so . . .
Girl Co-worker: Sarah isn't married!
Co-worker: Oh, well she . . . Sarah is almost married.




Or, no one would ever even think that way about Sarah so she doesn't really count as a woman.
Nice.

Do you ever feel like you're just trying to get through today?

I'll worry about tomorrow when it gets here.

Yesterday, someone called me beautiful.

Not cute. Not nice. Not sweet. Not any of those other words that mean my personality somehow makes up for my body. Beautiful.

And she really meant it.