My I Don't Want to Be 600-lb Life

I am 49 years old and I am morbidly obese. Which, to put aside all of the political correctness, simply means I am old and fat. I have been this way for as long as I can remember. I am not ashamed of how I look, but I am scared about how I have been feeling. I now have three beautiful reasons to make a change, but they did not prompt my change of heart. I got my wakeup call as I sat on a gurney in the emergency room, scared because I couldn't breath and quickly realized that my size had predetermined the care I was going to get.

I know that when people see me they automatically begin to do one of two things. They either pity me for not being able to take better care of myself, or they look at me in disgust and naturally assume I am a weak person who just has no self control. Both of these thoughts are wrong. I have survived many things, some of which would kill even the strongest of people.

I do not want to blame my weight on my hardships or trials in life. They are a side effect of them, but they are not the cause. Fear is the cause in my case. I have to thank this bit of insight to a therapist who saw me for the death of my niece. It did however, not change the fact that I continue to let fear rule my life.

I am afraid of disappointing everyone, and letting them hurt me. (Yes, I know this is irrational.) I use food to keep people away from me. I have fashioned, over the years, a cocoon of fat, that has successfully kept many people away. Most people never take the time to know me and that is why my eating has become a security blanket.

The people who do manage to get past my outer defenses are often met with anger and sarcasm. This is also a side effect of the fear that has dominated my life for a long time. I push people away, it does make for a lonely life, but it has kept me safe from the harm, my fear says is waiting for me.

Back to the gurney, I sat there in pain and struggling to breathe for five hours. I was afraid to say anything to the nurse about the pain cause I didn't want to bother her. I was sent home with some medicine and yet another round of, "You really should consider losing some weight."

I looked at this gentleman who I was hoping would explain why I couldn't breath, and this is what he tells me. REALLY? I wanted to scream. "No, I would never have thought to try losing weight! I feel so foolish for not having thought of it sooner." I didn't, instead I smiled and said thank you and left.

I have never been so angry in my life. It was the first time I actually felt ashamed for seeking help. It is going to be my last. I realized then that I am going to die. I can do it soon or I can try to live a long life. There would be no help from the doctor if I wanted to live, I would have to make sure I was healthy enough to do it.

I do not want my story to be an episode of My 600-lb Life. My story is going to be different. I am going to make sure of that. This is the beginning of a new chapter and I know it is going to be the hardest I have had to write. Fear is no longer going to be the controlling factor in my life.

I have already been struggling. I knew it would be very hard. I have spent 49 years giving fear so much power over my life, that stopping will not be easy. I have beat myself up a few times because I gave in to the fear and used food to fight it off. I am giving myself the permission to have setbacks but I am also making sure that even if I stumble, I keep moving forward.

I need to do this for me. I am tired of being afraid all the time. I do not want to die before my time because I am afraid of how the rest of the world may see me or hurt me. God knows I am stronger than that, and it is time I started to act like it.