I Can Do Hard Things

Disclaimer: The original thought for this post came from a wonderfully brave and incredibly successful poster on the OH board, Shari. So if you're reading this Shari - you rock and are such an inspiration to me.

I have spent a lot of time thinking lately about life after WLS. The last 7 months have been an incredible journey! I am so close to getting to the "century" mark of losing 100 pounds that I can taste it! I swear - when my body gets close to a big milestone like this - it comes to a screaching halt - like it's not quite sure we can do this. To be honest - it has been an awful long time since my body was in this territory to begin with. I just don't think it quite believes we're here. So I have stalled out about 2 pounds from the mark. I'm trying my best to just be patient and ride it out. I'm getting to the point where I can eat more normally. I am keeping more food down and therefore need to work harder at making those good food choices. And so this is where the rubber meets the road I guess. I am coming to terms with the changes that having this surgery has made to my life. Changes like getting my protein in first when I eat, taking my vitamins, how much I can eat, dealing with my emotions instead of eating them away. These are not easy changes to make by any means, but I am realizing I can do hard things. I didn't think I could - but I can. Here is a quote from Shari that has been worded perfectly:

Here it is: YOU CAN do hard things.

I know, you're saying, "What's your point?"

Sometimes, when faced with a challenge-- especially if you're a recovering
addict as so many of us are, when you approach something difficult, your inner
voice says, "Holy crap-- I can't DO that"...and you do an about-face-- you
reach for the drug (or Ring Ding) of choice. To feel uncomfortable..and not to
comfort yourself, is a hard thing --but you can do hard things.

When it's late and you're tired, and you know you are supposed to walk, you
said you would, and it's looking like it might rain-- it's hard as hell to lace
those sneakers up and get out there---but you can do hard things.

Protein shakes can taste yucky. It's hard to remember all those calcium
supplements. It's hard to get 64 oz of water in. It's hard to plan meals, buy
expensive and healthy choices, stay out of the cake in the lounge at work--but
you can do hard things.

You don't have to self-medicate. You don't have to eat those chips. You
don't have to duck and avoid every unpleasant, difficult challenge in your path.
Sometimes, the best bet is to admit their existance..."Yes, hard things, I see
you trying to get in my way, but you know what? I CAN DO HARD THINGS!"

Sometimes this means having to survive a host of feelings you never felt
before because you never let yourself feel them before-- stress, confusion,
anger, rage. You can't numb them out or sand off their edges-- you have to stand
right in your space and let them have a go at you-- and grit your teeth, and say
to yourself, "Go ahead, get in my way. I'll get through this. I can do hard
things."

And you will find that you will survive them. And as you survive them,
you will face new ones, standing a little taller, because in time you will
eventually understand and rely on the fact that you can do hard things.

And eventually the "pass me some Ben and Jerry's--my boss is a jackass" response
gives way to something new-- something that sounds more like this:

"Go ahead, Boss, bring it on. I'll have that on your desk by five."
"No thanks, Nancy, it's gorgeous but I really can't have an eclair
right now."
"I guess I could just park back there and walk."
"It's only 8 ounces and I don't have to love the stuff, I'll just drink it
quickly."
"If I spend ten minutes planning now, I won't be faced with tough choices
later."

Post RNY living is no joke. It's not easy. It's not fun. It's not all
"Whee, I'm a size 6!" There were days I *literally* cried because a kid at a
store could have a cookie and I couldn't. I felt sorry for myself and holed up
in my jammies, burning candles, and chatting here to avoid my fridge.

When I started, I could literally not walk further than my car, which
is about 100 feet from my door. I bargained with myself that getting down to
maybe 250 pounds would be JUST FINE, I didn't need more than that
because I though to ask more from myself was ridiculous, impossible-- who the
hell loses 220 pounds? That's not even humanly possible, seriously!And I found
out the answer to who does that : it's ME. *I* can lose 220 pounds-- I know
it because I *did* it .

I can manage my intake. I can get in my supplements. I can learn to accept
my new, imperfect body. And with planning and management, I can make a post op
life that still provides pleasure, joy and fulfillment.

I don't do those things because they are easy-- I do them because they're
hard, but I *can*.

I can do hard things.

And so can you. And you will. So the next time it's all too much (and it is
for me too, although less often as I grow), look your RNY challenge--
whatever it is--- boldy in the face and say, "I can do this. I can do
hard things."

Then pull out all the stops and grab the brass ring-- it's there for the
taking!

And that is what I have learned on this journey. I can do hard things! Who knew? I can not eat that piece of cake! I can not eat those cookies! I can say no thank you! I can RUN! I can run 6 miles! I can live like this - my post-WLS life is OK. I can do this. It can be hard at times, but I can do it. I will do it.