When my dad died I thought I had a handle on it, I knew he was dying he had cancer & you could just tell. I thought I got through the end of his life & the funeral OK, but as I look back now I see that was a turning point for me. I started gaining my weight back, I was foggy, it was getting harder & harder to concentrate on my work. I worked for Weight Watchers as a Leader & I think I was good at it. I had a love for the members, they were my friends, an oh so much more to me than just members. It was a great job, feeling like you are doing something important, something that is helping people. I thought I knew what depression was, I had always battled it, the baby blues, PMS,I saw with members who battled weight, those who were obese, & those who hand lost & gained the same 25 pounds over & over. I thought I understood when they told me about why they were here again, trying to get the weight off one more time, problems with husbands, kids, jobs, no jobs, being tired, being unable to workout. Feeling like even their own bodies had turned against them. I just thought I understood depression I thought I understood being tired. I didn't have a clue.
I found myself unable to keep the weight off, every month was a struggle to get to goal, I was working out hard & I was following the program, 85% of the time, that's what all the experts say it is what you do most of the time that counts. I couldn't get my mind to cooperate I was foggy. My body was betraying me too, my blood pressure started getting higher & higher. I couldn't breath, I had asthma so I knew what that felt like but this was different. It was like you are dying, like a weight is sitting on top of you or a snake is constricting with every breath. I was so filled with anxiety, I felt like everyone could see every pound. I felt like I was under a microscope. I was trying so hard but it wasn't working. Then came the exhaustion, it was all I could do to just get through the days, the days I worked I had to be "on", happy, energetic, but when I got home all I wanted to do was sleep. Everything was an effort, just getting up, walking, talking. I realized I couldn't do it anymore. I gave up. I thought I will go the doctor & they will find out what is wrong and we will fix it, then I'll have my life back.
I went to 2 specialist, the first was a lung Dr, he said you have COPD, I was so relieved, it was something, I'm not crazy!
I have Fibromygia so I had dealt with doctors and people who would tell you there is nothing wrong with you, they make you feel crazy. Take all this expensive medicine, come back in a month and we will do a lot of test and then we will make a game plan. I thought this is good, at least I know what I'm dealing with. I did exactly what he said, I took the medicine I trusted that he knew best, he was a Doctor after all. When I went back, after the month was up, I did his test and we waited and waited for him to come in and talk to us. I was scared because I wasn't any better so believed that he would tell me lets change this medicine or that one but what happened next was even more scary, he came in and he was MAD, he was MAD that he was wrong and that I wasn't any better. Somehow it was my fault, he didn't spend anytime trying to help me understand what was going on, he just stormed out of the room. I guess I didn't help his research in COPD. It was after all his specialty, he had told us that we were so lucky to be his patient on our first visit and that he was the best COPD doctor in our state. I left his office not knowing what was wrong and feeling maybe I am crazy.
I went back to my doctor, he sent me to a heart doc to rule out Pulmonary Hypertension, I went through all the test, my heart is healthy. So why can't I breath? Why do feel like I'm dying? He says he thinks it is asthma, and high blood pressure, I have my doubts, but he has been to medical school and I haven't so what do ya do.
I gave up. I stopped fighting it, I found no joy in anything, I wasn't doing the things I had always enjoyed doing, I stopped painting, I stopped writing, I stopped helping people, I wallowed in it. I was in a world of just existing, waiting to die. I thought God would call me home, I longed for it. I was depressed. I was in the pit.
Every now and then I would go to the Dr. with a little hope, he would add another pill and send me home. I don't really know what I thought he could do, maybe a magic wand and an incantation "Go forth and be well".....it didn't happen. With every pill I felt a little worse, I'm all for taking medicine if it helps, but in my case it didn't so I said enough. I said I won't take anymore antidepressants. He agreed, thank God. The fog started to lift, I could see a light at the end of the tunnel after months and months of darkness. I want to grab onto the rope, you know the one the one they tell to tie a knot in when you come to the end of it. I have to find a new normal now. I am overweight again, I still have the same health problems I did before. I have to find a way to be happy whatever that is.
I've been reading a lot on what makes people happy, money, fame, stuff. It turns out that people who are the happiest practice gratitude, actively practice it, they go through the day looking for things to be grateful for. This is something I need to work on. I am a glass half empty kind of person, waiting for the other shoe to fall. If things are going well, I have that ANT (automatic negative thought)well things are good now, sure, but just wait. Don't get too excited, don't get too high, it is a long fall from way up there. Is this the way most people think? I don't know.
So today I'm looking for the things in my life to be grateful for. Am I happy? I don't know what that it. I do know I am here for a reason and God is here too and maybe just maybe someday I will figure it all out.
I think it is progress just to be looking for the answers and to try to be grateful for where we are in this life and in my case who God has given me to share my life with.
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