I have been dancing the avoidance waltz for the past few weeks, and that includes writing this blog post. It’s confusing, because writing in this space has been really enjoyable for me. But sometimes my depression hops into the picture and mixes things up. So, without further ado, and off track from my prior planned post, I’m going to talk more about being a fat person with depression. 

But first, an update:

Today is 65 days since my surgery. Despite feeling ‘meh’ mentally & emotionally, I’ve been feeling really good physically. I’ve been able to eat more foods in greater amounts each week, and I’m working to trust my body and practice intuitive eating. And as always, through an anti-diet lens.

What are my ongoing struggles? I have trouble getting enough veggies, though that was a problem before the surgery too, lol. My dislike of cooking also followed me post-surgery, so food shopping & food prep are tasks I tend to avoid. Finally, I’m examining how I navigate conversations with others who might notice my body changing or have comments/questions. On one hand I respect that people often ask questions or comment out of curiosity or as an attempt to compliment, but it feels really stressful to be aware of how people learned incorrectly from a young age that it is OK to comment on other people’s bodies and to glorify thinness (note: it’s not).  

More about depression:

I’ve mentioned in past posts that my depressive symptoms were just one part of the reason I decided to have the sleeve surgery. For most of 2018, I suffered from a significant depression that was likely triggered in response to ongoing trauma from my prior work environment, as well as finding out that the person I thought could be one of the great loves of my life was in love with someone else, and then she started dating a different person within 9 months after I ended things. Yea, that was a thing. Looking back, I should have re-started my antidepressant WAY sooner than December. During that year, I was unable to get myself to walk the dog more than around the block. I definitely did not work out or lift, which is something I generally really enjoy. And my relationship with food went into some old patterns of bingeing, not listening to my hunger, and choosing things that did not make my body feel good. I avoided social situations and communication, isolating from the people I cared about. To make things even more difficult, I experienced significant health concerns last year, including acid reflux, digestive issues, finding out I was pre-diabetic, and lots of physical pain/soreness/fatigue. 

Taking this moment quick to pose a reminder, in case you haven’t read my prior posts:

My health concerns were not related to changes in my weight. They were related to a decline in my ability to take care of myself and also genetic factors. Linda Bacon, the author of Health at Every Size, writes that 25% of your health is controlled by health behaviors – the rest is factors beyond your control. Yup. WEIGHT IS NOT A DETERMINANT OF HEALTH. I have been fat my entire adult life, and of those 16 years, I only began to have health issues last year.

What I can tell you is that my weight IS connected to my history of depression and the first time I began to question my worth and value as a person. As discussed in a prior post, I first remember my body changing after going through puberty and into middle school. At the end of elementary school, I have a vivid memory comparing myself to my friend Sadie, who was thin and one of the popular girls. Though I always had boyfriends in elementary school and “dated” many of the popular guys in my grade (pre-queer-awareness, mind you), that stopped when I got to middle school. I experienced increased bullying, rejection, and being called “ugly” and “fat” by my peers. Now, whether I was actually considered ‘the o word’ by my doctor is probably up for question. I don’t know if I was within the so-called “normal limits” of BMI (note: BMI is bullshit), but that doesn’t really matter. When kids look for mean things to say, they quickly pick up on body shaming. It’s no surprise to me that we learn to talk to ourselves in nasty ways about our bodies. In a recent post in my surgery-related facebook group, a woman referred to herself as a potato in her ‘before’ photo. A fucking potato. It made me so sad. 

Anyway, to hide my body, I wore swishy colorful wind pants and extra-large t-shirts with images like tweety bird or *NSYNC (hey! no judgment lol). In fact, one of the highlights of that time was when my late grandmother would take me on trips to the Chinese buffet and a thrift shop to look for more swishy pants. I never felt judged or unworthy when I was with her, and she made me feel like I was the most beautiful kid in the world. Unfortunately, that period of time was also when I first started to restrict food and try to lose weight. Thus, beginning a 12+ year period of weight cycling, dieting, low self-worth, and telling myself that the only way I would be desirable and pretty was if I was thinner. 

Ok, tangent over. Coming back to the present:

I enjoyed the first 3 months of 2019 mostly depression-free! It was glorious. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I looked back. ‘I can see clearly now – the rain is gone.’ (Johnny Nash was a black reggae & pop singer). Not only was my anti-depressant helping a lot, but I also was moving forward with surgery and felt great about improving my fertility & decreasing my risk of breast cancer. I noticed an improvement in my ability to focus at work, and I’d recently started lifting again.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had to acknowledge that the symptoms have crept back once again, as has happened on-and-off throughout my life. I haven’t been able to get myself to the gym in a few weeks. I’ve been noticing more emotional hunger and moments when I’m overwhelmed, having the urge to binge. And I’ve noticed the desire to pull away from social interaction. The biggest culprit in my depression has always been lack of motivation, which leads to avoidance. I do not want to get out of bed in the morning, and I look forward to the end of the day when I can go to bed again. I’m completely drained emotionally and physically by the end of the work week, so I tend to avoid making plans on the weekend. This round of depression has been connected to a few life-related stressors, including a crazy busy time at my job and holding a lot of heavy clinical stuff (note: I’m a psychologist and gender specialist, and I work full time at a university counseling center, plus have a part-time private practice). 

So, what do I do on these hard days? SELF-COMPASSION! I aim to be as kind and nurturing to myself as humanly possible.

• I continue to focus on my recovery from surgery, meal prepping and paying attention to my hunger.
• I aim to be as present as possible with my clients, as many of them face daily oppression from systems and individuals who deem them less worthy.
• I make social plans and force myself to follow through, because canceling due to avoidance does not help my mood.
• I talk about my feelings and these stressful life experiences with people I care about, and I allow myself to feel and express vulnerability.
• I spend quality time with my fur baby.
• I went to Kohls to enjoy 30% off and got myself a super cute backpack, as well as some storage containers for my ongoing konmari method overhaul of my apartment.
• I go the movies – a lot!
• For fun, I flirted with a cute new person I met who is most likely unavailable.
• Most importantly? I tell myself that I am worthy and valuable (at any size), that I have people in my life who love and care for me, and I remind myself that this is temporary (as most mood states are).