Happy Thanksgiving, a 2nd year perspective

In baratric life there is no greater paradox than the holiday of Thanksgiving. Post-op’s have a lot to be thankful for. We’re alive, we’re getting healthier or are already there, we’re not as heavier as we once were, we feel better, we’re going to live longer and a multitude of health problems are now in our past. We can give thanks for this new lease on life, our chance to begin again, redemption from years of mistakes and self abuse. Yes, so let us give thanks… by sitting down at a table full of turkey, bread, and sweet potatoes with melted marshmallows, pies, cakes, beer and wine. Wee! Anyone else feeling schizophrenic?

This is my 2nd post-op thanksgiving. Lately I’ve felt world weary and depressed. I’ve been shuffling along, stumbling forward on this path which for a long time I strode with bold, confident and defiant steps. I’ve questioned the reasons I got the surgery. In a moment of weakness I even regretted getting the realize band put in. The hatred and incivility of others had made me bitter, angry and ready to lower myself to their level. I was ready to punish my brothers and sisters in the group because it is human nature to cause pain to others when one is in pain. Misery loves company and vengeance is very sweet nectar to sip upon. I wanted to eat. I wanted to pain to stop. I wanted to stop walking, stop the endless step after step after step of my post-op life.

Clarity came, slowly. I started to realize that life is never ending. There is no finish line. There is no success and failure. There is only the path, the struggle, the journey. I realized that maybe God’s plan for us all is to reach out to one another, as brothers and sisters, to try to support one another. I had to see that when you do this you cannot expect to be supported in kind. There is no balance, no fairness. If you help someone, expecting to be helped in return, then it is insincere. This “dark economy” of friendship, of humanity, this give and take, this idea of checks and balances, it was a dream, a poison illusion rotting me from within. There would be no victory, no thank you, and no pat on the back. There was the honor of walking the path, the nobility of helping those around you and the faith that doing all of this was its own reward.

Food is not part of that equation. It has nothing to do with acceptance, with comfort, with pleasure. It’s not a friend, or even the enemy. It’s not a drug to be avoided or abused. It’s fuel, nothing more. It’s not a reason to live; it’s what we consume so we can live. If we take in more than we need, we store it as fat. If we burn off more fuel than we took in, our body burns off the stored extra. Food has nothing to do with who we are, why we are happy or sad, why our lives are good or bad. It has nothing to do with why we are in happy relationships, unhappy ones or alone.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I have a lot to be thankful for. I am coming off some of the worst months in recent memory. The future is uncertain. But I am a normal weight. I am healthier than I’ve ever been in my life. I have friends. I have family. I have a purpose in my life. I may not enjoy the path I am on all the time but it’s a hell of a lot better than being lost. Tomorrow I’ll eat a small portion of turkey, on a small plate, and when I am done I’ll act as a waiter to everyone else, fetching food and drink for diners who are enjoying 2nd helpings while I wait 45 minutes for my food to digest so I can have something to drink. I won’t be eating alongside of them, I’ll be helping them.

Eating my little meal, helping others, seeing how beautiful that is and trying not to lose sight of that. That will be my holiday. That is what I am thankful for.

It’s enough.