Good morning! And what a lovely morning it is! I am finally feeling more like myself!!!
This morning I can report that the vertigo is gone, the rumbling has quieted, the fatigue has relented, I successfully returned to work yesterday and, get this: last night I slept over EIGHT HOURS! Whoot! The sleep alone is cause for celebration, I can tell you.
I still cannot manage to get two full protein shakes down in a day, but I can get one and a half and I’m working on two, just easing up on it by adding vanilla protein shake to my decaf coffee instead of creamer. I am conscientiously getting my 64 ounces of fluids in every day and am taking all the supplements I’m supposed to. In theory, I can add some soft foods this week, but I’m really fearful of rocking the boat at the point and may wait until I have gotten comfortable with drinking at least two protein shakes a day.
The biggest struggle I still have is with the anesthesia brain. SO FRUSTRATING! I have the attention span of a goldfish and it’s really getting on my nerves. Seriously, my mind is a pinball bouncing between thought bumpers then occasionally rolling around aimlessly. It’s ridiculous. I know that time will take care of that; however, as I’ve told you before, patience is not my forte.
This morning, I went for my first walk in several days. I walked only half a mile, not a full one. I don’t want to get ahead of myself again. This walk saw me walking faster than before and paying more attention to the mechanics of my body. I tend to sway my back when I stand or walk; so, this morning, I concentrated on tucking my butt. You wouldn’t think that would be that difficult, but when you have the attention span of a goldfish, it’s a constant internal litany of “tuck your butt. tuck your butt.” I also tend to be slew-footed, particularly with my left foot. So I was also reminding myself to keep my toes pointed forward. The internal chatter, then, was more like, “tuck your butt, tuck your butt, toes to the front. Tuck your butt, tuck your butt, toes to the front.” With a slick guitar riff, we could have a real hit on our hands with that, I’m sure.
The first week of this experience was not easy, not gonna lie. I’ve been through worse, but it was harder than I expected. The second week was no picnic – again, because I underestimated how difficult recovery would be. But this third week is starting off pretty nicely, I have to say! I am feeling much, much better – more like myself. I feel like I am returning to my center and getting closer to plumb.
My recovery has been going really well. Incredibly smoothly, actually, Too smoothly. I say that because the ease of my recovery allowed me to forget that I had major surgery. My mind might have forgotten it, but I can tell you that my body had not.
On Wednesday, I went back to work at my full-time job. With that job, I work at a desk from home; so, no driving, no lifting, no straining…well, other than mentally. With my post-op brain fog, I struggled to pay attention, but I did get some things done. I wasn’t nearly as productive as normal, but I got a good start. Wednesday was also the first day that I was allowed to add protein shakes back into my diet. It took me nearly 45 minutes to drink the first one and everything went just fine. I drank the second one at the end of the day and, again, took about 45 minutes to consume it. Everything was not fine.
Well, hang on. That’s not true. It was fine for about two hours. Then it was SO not. I began to run a low-grade fever, to have some indigestion, and to have some abdominal discomfort. My temperature never went into the range where the clinic told me to call them, but it got close a couple of times. I emailed them with a timeline at about 1AM, then called at about 8. Without going into all the gory details, I decided to take the rest of the week to rest and recover, and (at the nurse’s direction) to take the shakes back out of my diet. While still moving around, I decreased the distance of my walks. I think I was just going a little too far, a little too fast.
Frankly, even though I was miserable and slept little Wednesday night, I don’t know that I would have tapped the brakes quite as hard had I not seen an article about the death of Valéria Pantoja. She was a Brazilian beauty influencer. To be honest, I’m not really the demographic of any “influencer” however, this woman was only 30 years old and was recovering (allegedly) from bariatric surgery. As I mentioned in an earlier article, any surgery is dangerous and should be treated seriously and with respect, as should the recovery process. Reading about that young woman reminded me that I needed to take better care. I don’t have to do it all in one day. So, I took a breath.
I finally tried another protein shake at about 2AM. That went down okay; but, at 2PM, I was able to drink only half of that one. Still, after the one at 2AM, I slept for seven uninterrupted hours! That was the first time since surgery that I’ve slept that long and it was just wonderful! Because the afternoon shake didn’t do as well, I chose not to finish it. The important things to get into my system daily are the two liters of clear liquid. So, that is my focus.
I tapped the brakes on the shakes and walking, but I’m letting off the brakes a little at a time until I can get back up to full speed ahead.
Crucial note: I am not a doctor, nurse, or Healthcare professional of any kind. I am a patient, volunteering information about my experience in the hope that someone like me might find it helpful. I am not advocating bariatric surgery or weight management by any means. For those kinds of decisions, you should always consult professionals. Never base any aspect of your health on the opinion of a stranger on the internet.
I grew up in south central Mississippi, about 2.5 hours travel time north of New Orleans. Until 3rd grade, I went to a Catholic school where (I believe) all the nuns were from Louisiana. I’m not cajun and, in spite of having lived in New Orleans for nearly 3 years, would not even claim to be a New Orleanian. I have a tremendous amount of respect for those people and their culture. Too much respect to claim to be one of them. I’m just a girl from Mississippi they let hang around for a while.
My father was a big fan of the culture, particularly, the cuisine. He quoted this man Justin Wilson as long as I can remember. And while this video doesn’t have him saying it, I remember Dad starting every gumbo (and he made fabulous gumbo) in his best Justin Wilson voice saying, “First, you gonna make a roux.”
So, on Tuesday, the surgical team made a roux….outta me.
The procedure I had is called a Roux En Y. Harkening back to Ms Julia King’s French class in high school, I have been pronouncing that as rooz-en ee-grek. As we do in the States, though, we say things however we want to (I’m looking at you Versailles, Kentucky, Cairo, Georgia, and Milan, Tennessee – ver-SALES, KAY-roh, and MY-lan, respectively). Although people around me kept saying “rue on why,” it took me an embarrassing amount of time to make the connection.
ANYWAY, if you want to check out the above link, you can find out what they do during the surgery. I had some concept of that going into it, but didn’t really have a full idea of what it was going to mean coming out on the other side. I have that idea now, though, I can tell you for true!
Patients are not going to have the same experiences with any surgery. And the center knows that; so, there were some possible post-operative issues they didn’t mention to me prior to surgery. I suppose there is always the caution of not wanting to suggest a condition that a patient might not experience without the suggestion. And because I may be writing now to someone thinking about having this procedure, I won’t go into everything here. I don’t want to suggest anything, either.
I will, however, mention one thing that is extremely important to be aware of and wary of – post surgical depression. I had read about the risk of it prior to surgery; but, I really didn’t consider it. After all, I’ve had several surgeries before and it’s never been an issue – until now. This time, it was a big issue. There are likely several contributing factors that I will share with you in case you are considering this surgery and you have some form of depression.
General surgery anxiety. Anesthesia carries a risk. Any patient being put under runs of the risk of not waking up. It’s a very small risk, but it’s there.
Sharply decreased stomach size. If, like me, you take any kind of extended release medication, you’ll need to talk with your doctor about it. Nothing is in your stomach pouch long enough for an extended release to work. Your doctor will talk with you about options.
Low blood sugar. As I’ve said, for the ten days prior to surgery, I was drinking clear liquids and protein shakes only. My caloric intake was less than 800 calories per day. My system did not handle that particularly well when it came to mood. If you have a close relationship to someone with diabetes, you know they get cranky when their blood sugar falls. Hell! We all do! Otherwise, you would have no idea what I mean when I say that I’m hangry.
Disrupted sleep patterns. Not all bariatric surgery patients experience sleep loss. I have and I continue to. On average, I sleep for about 90 minutes at a time and am then awake for several hours. I’m not sure why this is and, like I said, not everyone goes through it; but, I certainly am. Sleep deprivation is a well-documented cause of mental distress.
Dependence on others. I was finally released to drive yesterday; however, due to some on-going light-headedness, I have still not ventured out. For a woman who does most things for herself, this is difficult to take. I am not safe to drive yet. I’m not allowed to lift anything over five pounds. I cannot do chores like vacuuming or taking out the trash. It is absolutely maddening.
Confusion. Anesthesia has lingering effects that can result in confusion or an inability to focus on anything. An inability to focus can quickly become general disinterest in everything, which is a double first cousin to depression.
Hormones. Estrogen is stored in subcutaneous fat cells. Rapid fat loss results in rapid estrogen release. During this first week, I have lost 13 pounds. Surely some of that was visceral fat that does not store estrogen but more of it was likely subcutaneous fat. I’ve heard various people describe it as going through puberty again or through menopause again. Regardless, raging hormones are just not a good time. One member of my team described it yesterday as a “vibe.” I think of Vibes as involving flowy clothing, Jimmy Buffett songs and weed. Lemme tell you, sugar – this ain’t that.
So, we have some potential contributing factors, What are we going to do about them?
Choose the best facility you can for your procedure. Read reviews, but be sure to keep a grain of salt in there and remember that people are more likely to complain loudly than compliment loudly. Check the number of procedures they have done and how your surgeon handles each one. All surgery carries risk. Just know that and find the best team you can.
Get ahead of it. Talk to your psychiatrist ahead of your surgery so that they can be on the alert with you and can be working on a plan with new meds or therapies before you need them.
Prepare. For my first week after surgery, I was allowed to have clear liquids only. Any flavored waters, gelatin, or frozen pops had to be sugar free. However, I could also have bone broth. That may not do much for your blood sugar, but it will give you some added nutrients. I was also allowed to have protein water. Our bodies don’t break down protein as quickly as sugar or carbs; however, they will convert protein into energy. I got some Oath protein powder that mixed into water. The strawberry-kiwi flavor was good and gave me 20 grams of protein in a 16 ounce drink, helping to level out my blood sugar.
Sleep when you can, but start moving. This week has felt a lot like being a new mother; but, as a friend said, I’m both the mother and the new baby. If I’m overwhelmingly sleepy, I’ll take a short nap. However, if I’m not doing anything but sitting on the couch all day, I’m not likely to get tired, am I? My team recommends walking a little every hour (given that I’m consuming 64 ounces of liquid a day, I’m up every half hour or so), and starting to walk for exercise. I take a walk around my neighborhood in the morning and again in the afternoon. My Amazon music service has been performing very poorly; so, I’ve switched to Sirius and am enjoying the Charlie Sexton Station as I make my rounds.
Talk to your caregivers. They are doing their normal thing and are not feeling the caged sensations that you are. Tell them. If your caregiver is not with you all the time, talk to other friends to perhaps set up a trip to the store or, at the very least, a good chat on the phone,
Give yourself grace. This is one of those things that takes time. The chemicals have to work themselves out of your system, Getting moving will help with that since that movement increases respiration, which gets clear air into your lungs. Also stick to simple tasks. Now may not be the time to take up jigsaw puzzles or crochet.
Buckle up. The hormones are there and have to find their own way out. Talk to the people closest to you to let them know that you are struggling with this and that sometimes you don’t even know you’re losing the struggle. The pimple-faced teenager in your mind is getting way too much time in control of your thought processes. My teenager is broody, selfish and can be truly mean. Yesterday, I saw a coping mechanism to deal with poisonous self-talk that I am starting to use. This woman said that she gave her hateful self-talk a name – Becky. (I haven’t chosen a name for mine yet.) Anyway, anytime she wakes and the mental self-abuse begins, she addresses her mind and says, “Becky, I love you, dear, but I have far to much to do today to get mired down in this with you.” “Becky, I’m quite busy now. We’ll have to talk later.” I really like that and am beginning to put it into my toolbox for better internal dialogue.
Clearly, lots to say today, right? My roux and Justin’s roux are two enTIREly different things; however, each involves taking existing ingredients and combining them in a way to make something wonderful.
I already hurt less and am making tremendous progress. This new healthier body and outlook is going to be the best gumbo I’ve ever had.
Actual footage of me approaching this first hurdle in my upcoming new reality:
On the one hand, I’m excited about this procedure and how it is going to change my life. On the other hand, I have the energy of that mastiff. I am hungry, tired, cranky, and literally having food nightmares. For the past couple of nights, I have dreamt that I ate solid food and my surgery couldn’t go forward. I have awakened in a panic only to feel the gummy texture in my mouth and to taste the flavor of ketosis. Strange to be comforted by cotton mouth and the taste of dragon feet, but here we are.
I am trying to get my house cleaned up in preparation for recovery, but I will not get as much done as I had hoped. I never do – whether I’m preparing for guests, for a trip, or for surgery. My list of things to get done beforehand never quite gets checked off. I have to get the biggest things done and let the rest slide. It’s not like it all won’t be there when I am able to lift things again. But, at least the floors are vacuumed, furniture dusted, laundry completed, and the kitchen, bathroom and cat boxes cleaned. The smaller tasks will just have to wait.
Even the big ones will have to wait right now. I am enjoying my back porch. The temperature is mild, the birds and crickets are filling the air with a song punctuated by the laughter of the three brothers who live in the house behind mine. I know that family only in passing, but I have listened to the boys grow from toddlers into pre-teens. I feel great contentment listening to their mostly harmonious play.
Yes, tasks big and small will have to wait awhile. Life is good and I am content.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, a childhood friend once implied that she thought that bariatric surgery was the “easy” way to lose weight. And, to tell the truth, I kind of thought so, too. But we were wrong.
This is hard. I have been closely monitored for several months on my weight and eating habits. That’s not easy whether you are preparing for surgery or not. But the part of this process that I really didn’t understand is probably going to be the hardest part for me – there are a great many foods that I will likely never be able to eat again.
For those of you in the back, let me say this loudly and clearly: I am not obese just because I eat too much. I am also obese because I really enjoy food. I like to cook and I like to eat. I love to bake cakes, loaves, and cookies. And I love to eat out, whether it’s a five star restaurant, a dive, or (my favorite) Popeyes chicken.
I am told that the kinds of foods and flavors I like will change after surgery, but even if they don’t, my stomach will be tiny and won’t hold much. And if I try to put things that are too sweet, too greasy, or too fibrous in it, I will likely trigger dumping syndrome.
For most of my life, I have known that certain foods (cole slaw, for one) will make me sick. You can set a timer: 20 minutes after I start eating whatever it is, I will be doubled over with cramps – my digestive tract preparing to empty itself violently and quickly. Because I know this, I am generally very careful what I eat in public and where I eat. Additionally, I always carry a small room spray with me in case the attack is severe. I never knew what this was called and I’m still not 100% sure it is dumping syndrome, but it sounds a lot like it to me. These attacks are painful and exhausting so I avoid those foods that I know will kick off an episode.
After surgery, I hear that most foods will kick off an episode; so, I will have to avoid almost all of my favorite foods for the rest of my life. That’s going to be really hard. Really hard.
Knowing that was coming, I had food funerals all last week, eating all those foods I won’t be able to eat after surgery. I had hamburgers, ice cream, sushi, pie, biscuits, eggs, barbecued pork, lemon icebox pie, banana pudding, bacon, sausage, and a whole bunch of other things, culminating in my final meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes from Popeyes. And it’s not just food I have to give up forever. No more Diet Cokes. No more carbonated beverages of any kind. No alcohol for the next year – I don’t normally drink often; so, that won’t be a big stretch. It will be several months before I will be able to go out anywhere and eat, and I believe that holidays may be a nightmare for a while.
Most gatherings involve food or adult beverages of some kind. Those will be very hard to attend (especially the first few months) so my social life will take a hit until I find other things to do. I have already told my neighbors that my yard will probably look better this year than ever and I’m certain that I’ll get all my tools and hardware sorted. At some point, my social life will pick back up and, if I do like I did after The Great Reduction, my life will be more active and fuller. I will live larger.
But I will do that without my old favorites, the honorees at last week’s food funerals: Jeni B, Little Debbie, Ben & Jerry, Mrs. Butterworths, and, yes, Popeyes for they are all dead to me now.
Today I was speaking with a woman who had gastric bypass surgery a year ago and I shared a fear with her – that the surgery won’t work. That I will still wake up and that my first thought will be, “What can I have to eat?”
That is literally my first thought every morning. And it accompanies me all day long. “What do I have to snack on?” “What’s for lunch?” “What’s for dinner?” ” I sure could go for a milkshake.” It’s all day long every day. And if the answer to the snack question is, well, anything, I’m going to go get it and probably eat it until it is gone – much like Paula Poundstone and her pop tarts.
Poptarts, chips (or crisps for our UK friends), snack cakes, nuts, ice cream, cookies, everything. If I know it is in the kitchen – particularly if I know the box is open – it’s going to talk to me until I go in there and get it. I don’t even have to be hungry or especially want a snack. If I know there is a box of something open in the kitchen, it’s going to be gone soon.
The woman I spoke with today had the same struggle before her surgery. She didn’t say that Little Debbie talked to her, but she had that same struggle. Since her surgery, she does not.
Like me, she didn’t feel full. I rarely do. At a recent family reunion, I made an exception and was miserably full; but, in general, I don’t feel full. It’s frustrating when logic says that I should be sated, but my limbic system is not at all onboard.
The professionals have all told me that surgery will change this and that afterwards, my tastes will also change. Like my new friend, I’ve been doubtful. However, she assured me that it does happen. Although she has sampled the treats she enjoyed previously, she wasn’t able to finish even one. The thing was too sweet and the chocolate tasted waxy. And she said that her favorite chips were far too salty. I am SO hopeful that I have the same experience! Let’s be honest, not buying it doesn’t work. There are two large grocery stores, several convenience stores, and 10 to 15 restaurants within two miles of my house and I do have a car. Not keeping garbage food on-hand makes me have to expend more effort to get it, but I’m not scared. I know where Sonic is. I have to not want to get in the car.
In addition to being tired of hurting all the time, I am sick of thinking about food all the time. I’m not a hunter/gatherer and god knows I’m not on Naked and Afraid. I don’t physically have to think about where my next morsel will come from and I’m tired of spending so much time doing just that.
I have not shared this with you, but over a year ago, I made a big decision. To quote Vivian Ward, “Big. Huge.” I had been feeling very hopeless about my weight and my apparent inability to do anything about it. Really hopeless. The kind of hopeless that sends a person with food issues straight to the snack cake aisle with a big grocery cart – none of that little basket stuff. Nope. Let’s load up. Nothing has helped; so, why bother?
Why bother?
Well, because I hurt. My knees, ankles, feet, hips, shoulders all yell at me on a daily basis. Every time I stand up, every time I roll over in my sleep something pipes up screaming. I don’t want to live the rest of my life like that. Granted, I have more life behind me than in front of me, but still. I don’t want to be crippled and that’s where I’m headed
So, I started looking at bariatric surgery.
After The Great Reduction, a life-long friend of mine said something about me having lost the weight the hard way. I hadn’t taken the easy way out by having surgery. I’ve thought about that a lot over the last 18 months. I didn’t actually start the process of moving towards surgery until about 14 months ago. And as I been involved with Vanderbilt Weight Loss, I learned that there is no easy way.
I have spent a great deal of time over the last 14 months keeping a food diary, learning to eat differently, and struggling with getting into an exercise routine. I still struggle with all of it. I still fail and still struggle with those feelings of hopelessness. I’ve lost 25 pounds. In over a year, I have lost only 25 pounds.
And the phrasing of that last sentence is a huge part of my problem. 25 pounds is a success. Could it be better? Of course. However, I didn’t gain 25 pounds; so, it could be worse. But 25 pounds when I’m still 100 pounds overweight, in my mind, is a failure.
Over 25 years ago, I had a counselor who pointed out my tendency to not give myself credit when I’ve earned it. More than 25 years ago and I still have to make a conscious effort to not belittle every achievement. I still talk to myself in a way I would never speak to someone I love. I still need help.
And I’m about to get a lot of it.
In less than two weeks, I will go in for gastric bypass surgery. I’m excited. I’m scared. But, mostly, right now I’m hungry.
My surgeon prescribed a liquid diet for 10 days prior to surgery. During this time, I can have protein drinks, broth, sugar free flavored water, sugar free gelatin, and sugar free popsicles. I’ve already started on it and, as you would imagine, it’s not easy. But, I am doing what I need to do to make it work. I have been taking care of some things on my honey-do list. (What do you call that list if you are both the list maker and the honey? To-do list? Yawn. Let’s work on a better name for that.) Whatever, I’m keeping my hands busy rather than just hanging out on the couch.
We’ll chat in the coming days about how this liquid diet is going, the things I’m doing it make it work, my fears for after surgery, and what actually happens after surgery. I am hurtling towards this life-changing event and I’d love to have you come along.
I actually started this piece at the beginning of all this Covid-19 quarantine business and I was full of optimism and advice on ways to stay positive and healthy (both physically and mentally) through the challenge. Then I just got sick of seeing articles on those subjects so I put mine on the back burner, guessing that you all were also suffering from Quarantine Pollyanna Fatigue Syndrome, otherwise known as Thhhssbbbpp!
Now, we are all also subject to Quarantine Misinformation Fatigue Syndrome and Quarantine Political Battle Fatigue Syndrome (at least in the States, we are). It’s exhausting and it’s ridiculous, amirite?
Still, we have to deal with it all. So, how?
At first, I was taking my Labrador retriever Stella for a walk around the neighborhood every day and I was doing something else outside every day – weeding flower beds, clearing deadfall, arranging supplies, whatever. On rainy days, I was working on indoor projects – organizing drawers, closets, etc., and taking donations to thrift stores, ripping up damaged carpet, removing damaged sub-flooring, cooking and freezing tasty, healthy meals for my sister, and spring cleaning. I was also calling my dad every day to chat and I usually called at least one other person just so I could talk to people. (My sister works nights; so, we don’t talk very much most days.) And that was working nicely.
Until my allergies struck.
My sister has a lot of allergies that attack her sinuses, make her sneeze, and leave her with a stuffy head. My allergies go straight to my lungs. I don’t normally have a stuffy head, but my lungs will clog, leaving me with a deep, wet cough. The coughing fits are sometimes so bad that I can’t get air back in, which leaves me lightheaded and panicky. The cough also makes me very tired. The fits are scary from my perspective, but they are apparently terrifying to listen to. My sister is constantly afraid that I’m just going to either keel over or cough up a lung.
Most years, taking an allergy pill nightly keeps the whole cycle under control; however, after two mild winters, this Spring has been an allergy killer in Middle Tennessee. The topography of the region doesn’t help since we sit in sort of a bowl in the middle of the state. Allergens and pollutants get in this bowl and just linger for. ev. er.
I will be okay and able to breathe fine for a day or two, then I’ll do something stupid like go outside for an hour and I’ll be right back to sounding like a TB ward. I need to mow my back yard. I enjoy mowing my back yard. But, I know that if I do it – even wearing a heavy-duty mask – I won’t be able to breathe. I need to finish removing the damaged sub-floor so I can put the new floor in. But, if I am in that room for more than a few minutes, the mold spores still there get me and I’m screwed. It is incredibly frustrating.
Frustrating AND infuriating. I have never thought of myself as particularly delicate or vulnerable; but, this lung thing makes me feel that way and it makes me SO angry! For all the things I want to do and need to do, my lungs are throwing up a big CAN’T when I want and need a big, ole CAN.
Most of the time, I think that the answer to any challenge can be found in the perspective with which you approach it. However, this one is kicking me in the teeth, friends. I can’t seem to get a good perspective so I’m asking you:
How do you approach your CAN’Ts so that you can see your CANS?
Yesterday I wrote something on my personal Facebook page that reflected a very deeply held belief of mine – very deeply held. However, it was inappropriate for me to make that post. I’m not going to say what it was and I have since deleted it because I realized that I really should have just kept my face shut.
Last week, I mentioned Brene Brown and her book Dare to Lead. In that book, she advises everyone to have a “square squad” a very small group of people (whose names will fit on a 1-inch by 1-inch piece of paper) whose opinions matter to you. Those are the people you listen to, not the people in the cheap seats who have something to say about anything and everything you do. You listen to only a select few who will tell you that you are “outside of your integrity” on some action. That’s another phrase Brene uses – outside your integrity. There is so much packed into that! And to say that “you are outside” your integrity is much more applicable than to say that “you are wrong.”
What I posted yesterday wasn’t wrong; however, it was harsh and edified no one. It was unnecessary. It was outside my integrity.
I used to watch the show America’s Next Top Model (complete guilty pleasure and intellectual bubble gum). I stopped watching after the season featuring an aspiring model from the Bronx. This girl was just mean as a snake! Hateful and spiteful for no reason. Her reason was that she was just “keeping it real.” The things she said might have been true, but they didn’t need to be said. Nothing was gained by saying them and no one would have been hurt had those things remained unsaid. Likewise, nothing was gained by my comments yesterday and no one would have been hurt had those things remained unsaid.
The world, in general, spends so much time spewing negative energy at us, right? It’s exhausting! I try really hard to be a source of positive energy. I failed yesterday. For the two members of my Square Squad who gently called me on it – Thanks.
Now. Here’s hoping next time I will pause, stay inside my integrity and keep my face shut.
“You can fool some of the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time; but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time.” There is debate over whether or not Abraham Lincoln actually said that and, frankly, I don’t care because regardless of who said it, I believe that it is true. However, it isn’t in fooling others that I think the greatest danger lies – it is in fooling ourselves.
I was a smoker for the better part of 20 years. I quit for a little while a couple of times in there but let’s just say that I was a smoker for 20 years for simplicity’s sake. I smoked as little as two cigarettes a day in that time and as much as two packs a day, and I probably spent more time in the latter category than the former. I would readily admit to being a smoker. Still, I couldn’t really bring myself to buy cigarettes by the carton. Somehow, buying buy the carton was only for hardened smokers. The smokers’ equivalent of an IV drug user. Buying by the carton made the whole thing seem a little too premeditated to me like I could quit smoking any time if I didn’t have that carton there – like I would, you never knew. Who was I trying to kid? I wasn’t going to quit smoking just because I wasn’t buying by the carton; I was just paying more per pack. Even so, over the course of 20 years, I can count on one hand the number of cartons I bought. I was just lying to myself. God knows I wasn’t fooling anyone else.
Several years ago, we had a discussion at work over whether you can give 100% all the time. My colleague Brittney argued that you can while I argued that you can’t. If you have a cold, obviously, you can’t give 100%. The night I went to work after having to put my dog Trey to sleep that morning, I wasn’t at 100% for sure! But, I’ve changed my mind. I think that she was right. Even with a cold, even the night after putting Trey down, I can give 100%. My 100% might not be as much as it is on another day, but if it is all I have that day, then it’s still 100%.
Let me say that another way because I think this is really important. If you ask me on Monday to give you all the money in my pocket and I give you the $1.72, the lint and the Lifesaver that’s in my pocket, I’ve given you 100% of my money. If you ask me on Tuesday to give you all the money in my pocket and I give you the $.47 that’s in there, I’ve still given you 100% of my money, even though it is less money than I gave you the day before. See what I mean? 147 is 100% and 47 is 100%.
When you are depressed or grieving or extremely stressed, I believe that it is really important to give yourself time to heal. We let infections heal, we let broken bones heal, we should let bruised psyches heal. For me, during this time, I am being gentle with myself, but still assigning myself single daily tasks. They aren’t necessarily huge tasks, but every day, I have to get something done. I cannot sit on the couch watching British police procedural shows all day. I will admit that my days are not as productive as they are when I am operating on all cylinders; however, this is where 60% is 100%. However, this is also where it is crucial to be honest with myself.
One day this week, 60% was just 60%. I didn’t do my task that day. I didn’t do the laundry. I was lazy. When we say that we are going to quit smoking, we have to at least really try to quit. When we say we are going to lose weight, we have to at least really try to eat more mindfully. And if I say that I am going to improve my mental health, then I have to at least make some sort of effort. I didn’t that day. But, that day is over and I’m not going to beat myself up about it either. “What’s done and cannot be undone.” Although maybe quoting the psycho Lady Macbeth isn’t the best source I could choose right now.
Anyway, my point is this: right now, my best efforts at finding a new job and getting my life back in order are not the same as my best efforts when I’m in top form. However, if I’m to get back to top form, I’ve got to honestly give my best, even if my best is just 60%.
Thoughts about everything and nothing in an effort to be a better person than I was yesterday.
The Daily Doty 