What WAS I thinking?

I've spent almost my entire adult life overweight. I've gained weight, lost weight, gained more weight, lost a little weight ... most of the time not understanding why I was on this yo-yo cycle of lose and gain, lose and gain. I would tell myself that this would be my last Dr Pepper, my last cupcake, my last ... whatever it was I was eating, but it never was. I knew all the right things to do, and I would do them - for long stretches at a time - but then I'd fall off the wagon and go back to eating and drinking all the things I knew were bad for me. What was I thinking?

Well, it took me a long time to get here, but I finally realized that what I was thinking was - I either have to do this exactly right, or not do it at all. It was a bad way to think - very bad, in fact. I would be doing fine for days, weeks, even months, then have one bad day, or worse, one bad meal, and think, well, there goes that idea. And before I even realized it, I would be off the wagon. I'd wake up three months later, a year later maybe, from the sugar coma, take a look in the mirror and think, What the heck have I done to myself?!? It was bad. It was a very dark time for me. I wasn't really an emotional eater, I'm not exactly one of those people who have trigger foods. I would just lose the plot for a while and then it would take me a really long time to figure out what I was doing. Five months ago, things began to change for me.

My husband called me one day when I was at work. I expected the call - he had an appointment with the doctor that day because he hadn't felt well for months. He'd lost a lot of weight - he's a very large man, morbidly obese, but I love him anyway. In the back of my mind, I knew something was wrong, but I kept reassuring him, and trying to fool myself, by saying maybe all the water he was drinking and the changes we'd made to our diets were starting to pay off for him. But that call - it could have been so much worse, I know. I answered and he said, "The doctor is sending me to the hospital right now. Can you bring me some stuff?" Of course, I wanted to know what was wrong with him - why had the doctor sent him to the hospital? What was going on? I could feel the panic rising when he told me the doctor wanted him to go straight to the hospital, no stopping for anything, no going home to pick anything up - straight to the hospital.

"I have diabetes, and the doctor thinks I might be in crisis," he told me.

"I'm on my way," I said, and I slammed the phone down and took off like the hounds of hell were after me. When I arrived at the hospital, and saw my strong, stoic husband lying there ... when he saw me and tears started to trickle down his cheeks ... I began praying, in a way I've never prayed before. "God, if you get him through this, I will make changes for both of us. I swear, we will lose weight and we will get healthy. Please, just let him come out of this with no permanent damage."

He was in the hospital for four days while they taught him how to inject himself with insulin, and to get him stabilized. The doctor told us he was half a step away from a coma when he walked in to the office that Thursday afternoon, but I don't know if he was just trying to scare us, or if he was serious. All I knew was, we had to make changes. Immediate, sudden changes.

My husband did wonderfully. The diabetic educator spent time with us both, talking us through the things he could and shouldn't eat - she never used the words "don't eat this." Instead it was, "All things in moderation" and "Make small changes at first and make sure you stick with them." She was so encouraging, so helpful, so ... just what we needed.

When he came back home, we did make changes. He didn't get up sodas completely, but he hasn't ever had a full sugar soda since. He made the transition to diet like it was nothing. He cut back on the carbs, and added a lot more veggies. He stopped eating sweets, he cut out fruit (fruit does a real number on his blood sugar, even now), and he never looked back. Before he got sick, he weighed in at a heart-stopping 500 lbs; he lost 75 lbs before he went to the doctor that day, but gained back 25 lbs in fluid in four days in the hospital. He was so dehydrated, the nurse said she didn't know how he was able to walk. The day he left the hospital, he weighed 450. I weighed 271 - we were fat, there was no denying it. Since then, he has lost another 70 lbs - I've never been so proud of him. But I wasn't really losing weight, and while I stayed on him about making sure he was taking his medicines and eating well, I wasn't exactly leading by example. I still drank regular Dr Pepper, and I continued to eat all sorts of foods that were bad for me.

A month ago, he said to me, "Baby, I love you and I don't want to see you go down the same path I went down. You have to gain control. Do just one thing for me - give up the regular sodas. Let them go completely. Switch to diet drinks - I know you drink a lot of water, and you don't drink coffee, so drink the Diet Dr Pepper. Just do this one thing for me." So I did.

I will admit, I hated the taste and more than once, considered going back to regular sodas. But then I would remember the way he looked in that bed in the hospital, or the way he asked me to do just this one thing for him, and I couldn't give up. After a couple of weeks, I began to enjoy the taste more. And now, I can't recall what regular Dr Pepper tastes like. But I've lost 11 lbs, and my wedding ring no longer fits - it's too big.

I'm not one of those people who can jump right in and do things right from the start. I'm not willing to let go of everything to lose the weight - today, I ate a twinkie. But, it was just one twinkie, not half a box. That's a victory for me. And I still have 470 calories left to eat, AFTER I input my planned dinner. My meals aren't tiny, they are realistic. I have snacks. I am learning about portion control right now, and then after I get that one down, like the diet drinks, I will move on to something else - exercise, probably. This is a one-step-at-a-time journey for me. This time, I'm not going to jump right in and try to do it all perfectly. I'm going to master one skill, then move on to the next. What was I thinking in the past, when I thought I had to be perfect, or not pursue weight loss at all?

I started this journey because my husband asked me to do one thing for him. I'm continuing it because I need to do this for me. If you've read this far, and you're willing to support a slow stepper, I'd appreciate your friendship. If you've read this far and you're not willing to support me, I understand. I wish you well on your journey. :-)