Monday, June 27, 2011
I was told that a good portion of this journey would be psychological and boy does that hit the nail on the head. On Saturday a sweet sister from my ward brought over dinner for my family and, while I was thoroughly grateful for the gesture, the meal had me facing a reality that I didn't want to face quite so soon. Those of you who know me, probably know that one of my all time favorite "comfort foods" is pizza and Saturday night I was face to face with the sights and smells of my biggest weakness. I'm going to be totally honest, I cried. It might sound trite and silly and stupid but it was one of the hardest moments of my life, and it sucked. That right there is how much food had control of my life. Tom, being the super sweet, sensitive and supportive man that he is, offered to throw it out, but money had been spent on my family and there was an even bigger reason that I just needed to deal with. I made the choice to have this surgery, nobody forced it on me, I did it, and now, I face the fire or, in this case, the food. I have to learn to live in a world where food is everywhere, and deal with the fact that, for quite awhile, I can't have most of it. In a weird way it feels like I'm mourning a loss and, darnit, I'm going to cry if I need to. So the pizza stayed and was eaten by my family while I ate my 2 oz of yogurt in my room as the tears flowed freely. I will never regret making the decision to have this surgery, but this isn't magic, it's hell and it's going to be a rough road to paradise.