The Starting Point (again)

I know that in the last blog I said this time I'd cover Fat Mentality, which is a very personal phrase that I've used for year and am dying to share, however just like with life, things change. I decided that in order to successfully log this journey I need to keep my readers up to speed with my current situation and my current achievements and my current status, and topics like life experiences, personal theories (Fat Mentality) and audience requests (which surprisingly have started to come in EEK!) will need to be used in between journey updates and such soooo here goes....

You know what this whole Fat Girl Rock Bottom means to me. You know my whys. Now lets talk about my starting point.

I'm currently in the worst shape of my life. After Covid stopped the entire world I also stopped doing pretty much anything physical. There was a lot of sitting around, I had enrolled in college classes for early childhood development because even though I didn't know where I wanted to go in my life, I knew I didn't want to stay where I was working. I was miserable.

I quit that hell hole of a job last October and started what I know call my forever career, and things were going great. Until one day in December I was laying on the floor playing with Zabrina and I reached up for a toy, I felt a weird clasp in the middle of my back and when I tried to get up I couldn't. When I'd move my breath would be taken from me. I couldn't get up for almost 25 minutes and only after lots of slow movement, a muscle relaxer my brother gave me and the assistance of a chair. This had happened one other time and back pain was no stranger to me.

My back hurt after almost everything I did. Walking, doing dishes, cooking, playing with my child, putting laundry away. Everything. And I knew it was getting worse, a month before the above incident I went shopping with my brother and by the time we got to the check out I was nearly in tears because I physically couldn't put my groceries onto the self checkout line. But I figured it was because I was fat. This is what happens when fat people who stop taking care of themself try to move.

Fast forward to about a week after the clasping on the floor incident and it happened again. And then again a few days later. Then I noticed I couldn't even bend to wipe myself without excruciating pain. I finally went to the doctor. He explained that I had most likely just pulled a muscle and PT should help. He put in a referral. A month later (near the end of January) I had my first PT session. My back clasped like it had been when they had me lay on the evaluation bed. They gave me a heating pad and got me to the point I could walk to my car and told me if it got worse to go to the ER. A few hours later I could barely stand and ended up at the ER. My doctor said that I should try another time or two of PT because my insurance (Thanks Molina) required 12 PT sessions before they would approve an MRI.

This made no sense to me in the moment, how could PT fix what they didn't know was wrong? But whatever I went back 2 more times. Each time just as bad as the 1st, just without the ER visit because all they do there is pump you full of drugs and send you on your way. Finally my doctor said enough is enough and he started an appeal process. Meanwhile.. I wasn't able to live my life. I was getting to a point that even caring for my daughter was too much and even though I stayed with family I was too embarrassed to admit that I needed help. I wasn't able to bring in the income that I needed and had started to use my savings for basic life supplies like diapers. So I kept pushing myself. Until I broke. I got to a point I was so ashamed of where I was that I started considering suicide (not a thought that I'm unfamiliar with). If I just took all the pills the doctors gave me, at once it would all be over. My daughter would get my life insurance, my family would take care of her, and I was just a burden on everyone anyways. I would mentally spiral out of control, I couldn't stop it. I just wanted to end the pain. End the embarrassment. End it all.

Then in March I was finally approved an MRI and they found that I had 7 herniated discs. They can't operate, because none of them are at that point yet, and the steroid shots won't necessarily help, especially the worst of the herniation because it's in literally the narrowest part of my spine, and being morbidly obese (Ugh I hate those words, but they need to be said) leaves even less room, which means even less of a chance the shots will even help. The specialist said that if I were his sister he would tell me not to get the shots, yet. To try aqua therapy and try to strengthen the muscles around the spine. And if I happened to lose some weight in the process it would be an even better outcome.

Driving home from that appointment I said to my best friend. "Well this is it... this is my fat girl rock bottom, I don't get any lower than this" and we had a discussion about how I'd lost 73 pounds in a year before I could do it again, just this time would be more challenging because of my new friends named herniations. I ordered me a swim suit, I re-bought the weight watchers app, I made the decision that even though I could get lower, I wouldn't. This was my rock bottom and there was no choice but to come up from here. When my swimsuit came I had my mom take pictures, I hate them. They make me cry. They make me feel so ugly. So fat. Like such a failure. But they are me... in my now.. in my fatgirl rock bottom.. and this is where it begins (again) for the last time....

Now I've been in Aqua PT for just over a month and I've lost 5.4 lbs. I still have pain more days than none, but I'm able to move a bit around more. I'm doing more things than I was and I'm learning to slow down and stop when I need to. I'm making better eating choices, not the best as this isn't my focus at the moment and it's important to understand I literally can't take on the world like I'd like to but rather need to take one step at a time. But most importantly ... No matter how I feel. No matter how much I cried the night before or the morning of. No matter how much I hate myself or my situation. I show up. I tell myself I'm driving to the parking lot, if nothing else, I'm driving to the parking lot and if I really can't I'll go in and tell them, face to face, not over the phone because that's the easy way out.... But so far... every single appointment I've made it to the parking lot... I've made it inside.. I've said hello to scheduling.. I've showered and gotten ready for the pool.. I've gotten in the pool... and I've successfully completed the therapy session. Each time, even on the days it hurts, or the days after when I can barely get out of bed, congratulating myself and basking in my pride that I showed up. And THATS what counts.

I wasn't going to post these pics. Ever. I wasn't going to share them... I don't want people to see me. But if I want people, especially my amazing little Zabrina when she's old enough to read these, to understand just how far down my rock bottom is, I must hide nothing. Ever.

So to anyone who's taking the time to read my blogs, to send me support, to encourage me, to cry with me, to laugh with me, to remind me I'm not the failure my bully brain seems to make my feel like I am.... these pictures are the hardest part of anything I've shared with you yet. But this is where I start. 348.2 lbs... the lowest self esteem you will ever find.. and the most real, raw, and heartfelt glimpses into the journey.

To my dearest Deshaun Ray and Zabrina MonaLisa... THIS is where you saved your mom from... THIS is where we climb together.. THIS is where I need you the most.... THIS is our rock bottom.... and life is only going to get better from here... I promise you with everything I am... we will succeed. Together.

I would LOVE to say up next on the next chapter of my journey -- Fat Mentality... but I suppose we will see what strikes me in the next two weeks.

Until next time... thank you to all of my supporters. Stay Safe and Stay Blessed <3