Voyage into your conscience

Voyage into your conscience

This Forum has given me in just four months so much support and friendship and practical advice. Now I am seeking a different level of understanding in my own voyage into my own conscience and wonder whether any of you have taken a similar journey…

We Forum Members post considerably about surgery procedures, wow! moments, nutrition, our feelings about work and play, our marriages, children, bereavements, personal stories that may have been easy to write and some much less so.

I feel we imply that we have all reached our Morbid Obesity through years of built-up luggage, some pretty ugly, all stemming from valid hurts and misunderstandings at the various stages of our life. The common point we share is that these low points have been ill-dealt with and unsolved, stacking a number of similar situations along the way. The rest is bad habit, lack of education, lack of resources, lack of support and above all a broken spirit where that particular subject is concerned.

We all have in us the material for turning our lives into a book or a movie, with quite a few added chapters after our gastric bypass surgery! A lot depends on how any given situation is presented!

What strikes me is how nearly all of us on here are givers or carers, though many of us come here as takers. I for one have come on this Forum to soak up your experience and wisdom, your sense of humour, thus enabling me to put my own life into perspective. By hearing your accounts, you have given me a perimeter of sorts, thereby creating my own new sets of values based on what appears “normal”.

What my thread is really about is going beyond all your posts and delving into the inner-self, our conscience, which, for many of us, is a terribly difficult act. The very proof is the fact that we are here because of morbid obesity. We are able to look out for everybody else but ourselves… And yet, one day something set us in motion, sufficiently to really change our lives, with the intention for the better and for our health. I would like to provoke us into thinking hard and deep. I absolutely do not want to pry or even expect your answers. We have all written on here what we have been prepared to share publicly in the private and highly specialised environment of these brilliant pages. I would like you to go beyond what you have given to others and reach your inner depth, where you yourselves hardly ever go unless pushed.

It is not my meaning to belittle the entries on this Forum and I can only apologise if I come across as arrogant and superior. I am just as vulnerable as you all are. I only would like to go beyond the social aspect. You may already have found an answer, you may have been fortunate years ago to have moved on or you may be scared of even going there for fear of no longer being strong and in control of your new life post surgery.

I would like to go beyond the social coping skills and new-found life of the post op long timers.

It is only fair that I share my version…
I am 50 years old and have had so far an eventful, though not extraordinary life. One aspect of course is how I define my own life.
I have two much older brothers and my Father so longed for a daughter and was over the moon when I was born. However, my Mother was not in the least pleased – she had accepted to have another child for his sake as she had her own marital agenda. When I was 8 I declared her a witch: we had agreed to dislike each other. My beloved Father and I had an intense meeting of our souls and he poured his love and affection into me at every opportunity – very much Daddy’s little princess. And then he died on my 12th birthday and my happy childhood, as I knew it, was shattered for ever more. My widowed Mother and I forged a loyal and courteous bond, protected by a traditional upbringing and moral convention. From an early age I had a key around my neck and she and I were independent from each other, she travelling frequently whilst I went to school and lived on my own at our home. She left a weekly food allowance and the maid’s wages and her hotel name. Surprisingly, it worked well and I was basically a decent, respectful kid who valued immensely my time home alone. The view onto the lake and mountains from our home was magnificent and ever changing and sustained me in my moments of woe. As a teenager I was passionate about classical music and opera in particular though I never played an instrument nor sang.
I understood many, many years later that the reprehensible behaviour from our trusted neighbour abroad was actually sexual abuse from the age of 5 and which led to rape when I was 15. I fell in love at the age of 17 and for 7 years I had an interesting relationship with a warm and kind lost soul. The young man and I broke off our engagement when it became clear that his sexual personality was that of Jekyll and Hyde and that he was not prepared to seek professional help after he too had raped me. I was broken-hearted by this betrayal because underneath a medical condition lay a wonderful individual. We remained friends until he died many years later.
My passion for chocolates and sweets arose from the age of 5, which explains the timing. I grew up in a culture where vanity kept you within an acceptable weight band and it was only with the birth of my first child that I put on 15 pounds, which I never managed to lose. That started my slippery slope of weight gain.

After my Father’s death, my Mother went alone to Taiwan for 4 months, leaving me in the caring hands of the parents of my class friend. That is how, at 13 years, I had a nervous breakdown, which, from when I was 15, transformed itself into clinical depression and which I struggled with for 30 years.

Over the years I have worked through the various topics of hurt and shame in my life and have come to terms with what I cannot change and tried hard – often succeeding – at repairing and moving on. Basically, I am at peace with myself and content with what I have achieved.

I am immensely grateful to my wonderful marriage of 25 years, 3 beautiful, kind and loving children, 3 dogs and a now secure roof over our heads. We have all of us together weathered many, many storms, anxieties, disagreements, financial worries and differences of opinion, but ultimately, we only have each other and our loyalty to each other, through thick and thin, is of paramount importance to us and what keeps us strong.

My 89-year old Mother died last year as a result of a fall. She realised she would likely get a brain clot from her hitting the back of her head and did not want to burden anyone with a potential long drawn out end of life. So, she took a considerably increased cocktail of her usual medication and opted for the great sleep, in her own terms and conditions. Immensely brave of her and I admire her guts to take control of her destiny. I was privileged in being able to be by her bedside night and day the last week of her life, even though she was in a coma. The week she spent dying became for me a process of death, out of life, just as the process of coming into this world through birth. Very powerful, strengthening and reassuring.

My brothers and I dealt with our Mother’s demise with great dignity, closeness, efficiency and respect. One lives in Sweden, the other in China and I in the UK. We have always been geographically apart, sometimes not seeing each other for 2 years or more, but always very close and available for each other. It was my younger brother who desired me to have my GBS because he wanted to protect me from myself and safeguard me for my and our families. He was a true inspiration and support.

Having dealt with the practicalities surrounding my Mother’s death, being physically involved with organising and taking up my time, and that inherent to my surgery in addition to working and living my life, I have been able to hide behind a timetable and being busy, glossing over the deeper meaning of life through social activity and preoccupations.

But, a little voice, from very deep within, reminded me to be true to myself. Hence this thread!

I owe it to my self, my husband’s and children’s, my parents’ moral, physical and emotional investment in me to develop and thrive. So, now that I have dealt with the physical aspect of my life, I owe it to myself and to them to grow. They trust me, they need me, they love me. And I am starting to trust myself, for perhaps the first time.

This is more than improved self-confidence. The surgery helped with that aspect: weight loss equals slimmer figure equals greater attractiveness hence feeling better and a wonderful upward spiral. What I mean is something that goes beyond the social self-confidence, more like a moral responsibility. The true individual beneath the veneer, stripped of all social niceties… Growing when you are already grown-up. Pushing one’s own boundaries. Moral courage.

Let me know if you feel up to seriously thinking outside your tank. I am not asking what. All I am asking is that you go there – or at least try.

Vim