What was your moment of truth?

My moment of truth came by way of fear. My aunt was very sick and so was my mother and father. All three of them have or have had diabetes and none of them have taken care of themselves. My father and mother were in the hospital and both are under 50 years of age. As I talked to each on the phone, I felt scared that in 25 years, I could be having the same conversation with my children. My father was already blind and has since had his leg amputated to just above the knee. My now late aunt had both of her feet amputated and was nearly blind as well. I was scared that was going to be me.

My best friend had up and moved back home following a visit to her family. I was very depressed and slipping deeper and deeper everyday. I was constantly yelling at my son (who we shall call the kid) and sometimes for no real reason. I couldn't sleep and I cried constantly. Finally, I knew that I had to do something. I wasn't snapping out of this rut. My husband (who we'll call the hunk, cause well he is) began to notice my decline and urged me to seek a doctor's help. If anything, he could at least give me something to help me sleep and we felt that in itself would help my mood.

As I sat there in the doctor's office, there was a mirror next to the examining table. I could see my reflection but I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Just 5 previous minutes before, I had topped the scales at 285 pounds. "Dear God" I thought. What had me even more saddened was that I knew that wasn't my highest weight, although I have no real documentation of a higher non-pregnancy weight number. But the depression I was in, had left me with little appetite (for once!) and I'm sure I dropped a few pounds before going in that doctor's office.

I sat in that examining room and cried. I cried at the sight of myself. A size 26 tub of fat who let herself become everything she hated in herself. On some level, I realized I must of been suicidal to let myself get so huge. I was killing myself slowly for the love of food and hatred for eating it. My doctor ordered some blood work and an EKG. On top of everything else happening to me, I could now add high blood pressure to the mix. I got medicine to help with depression and sleep and of course he gave me a 1200-1500 calorie-a-day diet sheet. But that was it. Not how to change my eating habits, or how to face what made me eat in the first place. He told me to walk 30 minutes a day and come back in 2 weeks to check on my blood pressure and blood work again.

Upon returning 2 weeks later, I had only walked a few times. I couldn't do much more than that. But I had lost 2 pounds. I didn't want to know that I could gain those 2 pounds back. I felt like this was my start. This was opportunity opening itself to me to start making a change in my life. It had been given to me. The results of my blood work only confirmed my fears and spurned me to move forward. I was knocking on the door of Diabetes and it was opening. I was told that if I gained anymore weight, that would be it. My cholesterol was also high. I realized that you couldn't escape the bad habits that you put your body through. There was no escape. Just because you seem healthy, feel healthy doesn't mean you ARE healthy or that you will continue to stay that way. It WILL catch up with you. I was eating triple cheeseburgers from Wendy's 2-3 times a week. That's excessive yes, but I had only had that habit for probably about 2-3 months, as compared to a lifetime of being overweight.

I could feel my arteries clogging, even if it was dramatized in my own mind. I had to do something and do it today. I had 2 pounds lost already and I made a choice to see those numbers go downward for the first time in my life instead of upward. That was my moment of truth. Knowing I would die at a young age. Or worse, live through illness after complicated illness. Living a life of being sick, immobile, blind and amputated. If you can call that living.

That entry was written on July 1, 2002. It was the first epiphany I had about my health and weight loss. I had changed my life and in a year, I had lost 59 lbs. and went from size 26 to 18. I felt great! However that was to be short lived. After that year, I started to struggle. I struggled with complete lack of motivation, depression and over eating. I gained nearly all the weight back. It was devastating. Soon after, I got pregnant with my second child and gained the rest of the weight back plus some. I managed to take off 50 lbs. but still, I couldn't manage to keep it off.

After moving my family back to New Mexico, and moving back into the workforce for the first time in over 11 years, I began to lose weight again. 89 lbs. and counting. I just hope that this time will be the last time that I have to start over. I'm crossing my fingers, eyes, and legs!