An Actor’s Musings

We stood in the kitchen and watched CNN. Day three. Aftermath photos and video of Haiti. There are no words to describe. I kept wondering if I should watch it. I’m such a sensitive person, seeing a man crushed under rubble will haunt me for a while. Should I put myself through this? Should I stand and watch the piles of bodies and the unthinkable horror?

But it’s not about me.

Five or so years ago I watched “Hotel Rwanda”. After it was over I cried and cried. I not only felt helpless but I felt stupid. I felt so stupid for not knowing when it was happening. For not taking action. For not even being able to write a senator or protest or spread the word.

I might feel helpless about Haiti and I might feel like texting a few dollars here and there, in the greater scheme of things, seems so pointless (I realize it’s not, but it does feel hollow and cheap and easy for me) – but I will not feel stupid. Not this time.

My eyes are, and will stay, wide open.

I had completely forgotten that when we lived in Boston, I had a small part in the making of this. Hilarious.

Keep in mind this was during the march to war. This was when if you even thought twice about speaking out against or questioning our government, you were considered a traitor.

WARNING: If you are prone to being offended by drug use, parodies about patriotism, liberal funnies, bad lighting or stilted voice over – you should not watch this video.

I wish I knew how to get rid of this feeling. It’s sadness but it’s also a lack of control. I’ve felt this way my entire life when anything outside of me is hurting and I can’t make it stop. It’s physically painful for me to not be able to help.

I read a statistic that something like 90% of the elderly in nursing homes are never visited. Can you imagine? Your length of your days up until you die and no one comes to see you. It makes me weep. Bitter tears.

The elderly get to me more than anything. And the homeless. Loneliness…..it just tears at me for them. Why am I so lucky? And how can I help?

Yeah – I know I can volunteer and have in the past. We have plans over the holidays and I want to do more in 2010 (it is actually my one and only resolution) – but it doesn’t make it stop. It’s a bandaid. Hell – it’s not even a bandaid.

One of my biggest issues personally is getting past my own tears. I’m very emotional and you pretty much see everything on my face. I’m no good at hiding it – and if I’m gonna cry – I’m gonna cry. Several years ago we spent Christmas morning in a nursing home and I handled it while I was there – but after leaving I lost it. And I’m so raw afterwards it makes it difficult to do again. I’m just not a person that is going to ever become ‘used’ to it.

Even writing this feels so absurd. Like I’m complaining about feeling empathy.

I wish I could explain what goes on inside. I wish I could explain how much it rips at me to ultimately not be able to do a thing.

Just makes me sad. Because I don’t think anyone should be alone. Because I don’t think anyone should be homeless. Because I don’t want anyone to feel hopeless. Because I don’t want anyone to feel despair.

And yeah – I know it doesn’t do fuckall for me to feel it for them.

I don’t think there is a word for how I feel right now. “Overwhelmed” is too dramatic with a tinge of sad. “Awed” sounds like a come-to-jesus moment. It’s….big….and free….and light as air with a hint of want-to-happy-cry tied up with a sprinkle of disbelief.

Let me back up.

In general I hear from people around me how my body is changing. Sometimes I get embarrassed when people who haven’t seen me in a while exclaim how great I look: after ‘Thanks!’ I don’t know what to say. Usually I talk about the surgery or find some other way to deflect from them focusing on how I look. But at the same time I’m thrilled. It’s…..see, I need a new word here too! It’s absolutely nothing I have ever experienced before.

Even though I see it, I don’t see it (which sounds really ridiculous and cliche). At least I don’t see it like other people do. Not like Brad does when he hugs me and says “Oh my god you’re so much smaller” and I get to feel girlish and little. Not like Tab does when she just stops and says “I can’t get over how thin your shoulders are”. But for me….I see me naked so I see how much I have to go and it’s only been FIVE MONTHS (today, actually).

The other night, I laid my hand on my husband’s back and didn’t recognize my wrist. It’s small. I can see bones. I can circle my wrist with my thumb and forefinger and overlap my fingers. On his back it looked delicate. Pretty. Feminine. I loved it. But it was a surreal experience to look at that wrist and think “who does THAT belong to?”

Tonight, in my usual night owl ritual of late, I decided to go ahead and finish cleaning out my closet. It was time to get rid of more clothes in my ever dwindling wardrobe. I knew a few of my bigger items wouldn’t fit. I knew a few tops would be a little big but still ok to wear for now.

What I wasn’t expecting was what happened when I tried on one of my favorite skirts.

I tried on the top I wear with it and it’s roomy but still looks cute (man was I stretching out a LOT of tops at my highest weight!)…then I pulled on the flirty little summer skirt and……

my jaw dropped

my head literally started spinning

I considered waking up Brad to share the moment with him

(it was literally like every ’shock’ moment in every bad movie you’ve ever seen)

This is a skirt that I had to wear up under my boobs because it was the smallest part of my body. This was a skirt that has no elastic in the waist at all and it fit me snug. This is a skirt….well, fuck, just let me show you…..

If I let go, it falls to the floor. I would have to put a cantaloupe in there for it to stay taut.

Five months is NOT enough time to get used to that kind of change. It’s certainly not enough time to find new words to describe it.

Well, it’s that time of year again! No, I don’t mean joy and love – I mean when I’m accused of trying to take the ‘Christ’ out of ‘Christmas’. Now, I don’t get too upset about this, really. But I’ve been hearing a lot of things recently along the same lines that I’d like to talk about:

1 – By saying ‘Happy Holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas’, I am taking the Christ out of Christmas

2 – By allowing gay men and women to marry the sanctity of marriage is being threatening.

3 – My mother recently informed me that the ACLU (who, by the way, has many many times fought for people’s – even Christian’s – religious rights) has nothing better to do than to try to destroy Christianity (her words, not mine).

I have something I have to get off my chest about the first one: Christianity did not invent huge winter celebrations that involved candles and singing and food and love and sharing and joy. They put a new name on it, but it’s the same holiday that has been celebrated for hundreds of years before Jesus showed up (when he showed up in the spring, let’s not forget). It was celebrated as a way to worship the sun (the Son, get it?) – so it was taken over when Christians realized they could use it and the church wanted to do away with various other traditions. If you want to be pure about your Christmas – then get that pagan tree out of your house. You did know you stole that idea from the pagans, right? But I digress.

These three things keep bringing me back to the same question: Christmas, Christianity, marriage – they are all individually based beliefs. How can I destroy your belief in a higher being, or take Christ out of your Christmas, or destroy your marriage? Those things are solely up to you. I don’t even WANT to destroy those things. They work for you – then great!! I’m happy for you, sincerely. So why can’t I say ‘Happy Holidays’ with no grief, or watch my gay friends get married, or spend time on a subway without being assaulted by someone proselytizing. Can’t you just focus on your own Christmas, marriage and relationship with god?

This has been a message from your local happy, well-adjusted agnostic. Thank you.

People treat me differently already. Especially men. Nicer. Not anything lurid, just kinder…more flirtatious. More ’sweeties’ and ‘babies’ and ‘mamis’. In the moment, of course I love it. I love being nice to people and I love it when people are nice to me. It feels good. And…people are nicer to me now.

In turn, I fine myself being more….demure? I don’t have to be so overly-self-conscious-girl nice to people – trying to force their hand and prove I’m worth their friendliness. It’s happened kinda’ naturally but I find I am less likely to make a joke or try to strike up a conversation now – I don’t have to prove anything. I smile and am nice and friendly in a normal way and they reciprocate.

When I walk away or get in my car, I remember that they weren’t that way about five months ago and it bugs me.

It’s not quite anger. Or maybe it is anger. Small anger, though. It’s more ‘why?’. But why doesn’t do me a helluva lot of good.

So then I am stuck with this uncomfortable feeling, just sitting in it, trying to figure out how to process it. What box with a big bow can I put it in, to file away and understand if it comes up again?

I’ve got nothin’, so far.

Who am I mad at? Society – for treating me-61lbs-ago differently than me now (who will probably, in turn, be treated differently than me 60 more lbs from now).

But I can’t blame the guy at the parking garage for making a joke about not wanting to hit my ‘pretty legs’ with his car…..it’s not like I can say “you know what, asshole? You wouldn’t have said that when I was 60lbs fatter so shove it!” It’s not like this is a teaching moment. He’s just being cute. I can’t blame that guy for that.

And what sucks is, I can’t change society. I can’t change that people just are nice to thinner people – maybe even subconsciously – but it’s real. Even I do it: little judgments we make about people who are heavy. Even if only in our heads, they come across in our attitudes. And I can’t change it about other people even one bit, much less society as a whole.

I’m thankful that people are kind to me. It also makes me sad, though.

I stumbled upon some pictures today.

And then I look at that next to

and

I said I would never hate the fat girl, but it is very, very hard to look at those old pictures and not feel….something. It’s not quite regret. It’s not quite mourning. But I just feel.

I have to talk myself through this. I have to look at her and make a conscious choice to respect that she was what I was and just as good as I am now. That’s the tough part – that last bit. She is just as good as I am now – just as worthy, just as lovable. That’s not easy because the first thoughts are ‘oh my god! I look horrible!’

The odd part is that to most of the world – I’m still fat! I haven’t ‘arrived’ by any means. I’m only half way to goal. However, this is one of the clearest ways for me to see….to really really see definitely that this loss isn’t in my head or the heads of people around me. That’s it’s happening and it’s not going to change. It’s freaking me out a little to see these side-by-side.

It’s freaking me out more to try to figure out how not to make judgments about it.

I didn’t look horrible. I looked like me. And if I am going to be one soldier in the army to stop the fat-hating in this world, then I have to start with my former self at every shape and size. At the time I felt fine and felt like I loved myself for who I was and what I was.

Looking back is trickier.

There is a community of people that I talk to that have had the same surgery as I have and someone posted a ‘what are your top ten decisions’ thread. I loved the idea and figured this would be a great place to get back to posting.

So – in no particular order, here it is.

1 – Getting into therapy to deal with sexual abuse and staying in it to deal with everything else. I get back to it when I need a ‘tune-up’. Just like seeing a doctor when you’re sick.

2 – Deciding that the most important thing to me was self-awareness and beauty and learning (from Brent Fladmo, in particular) that life is a choice

3 – Holding my father’s hand and telling him it was ok to let go in 1999 and being honored that I was the one in who’s presence he could die

4 – Marrying Brad and making a commitment to honesty no matter how much it hurts and seeking out couples therapy when we needed it. The way I feel about him and our relationship is indescribable.

5 – Making the choice to let my mother be my mother. It took me 37 years to let go of my crap and accept she won’t change but it’s all ok now. She can be who she is and I can choose to let go of a need for her to change.

6 – Removing the person who sexually abused me from my life – not because of lack of willingness to move on but because he denies it and I won’t tolerate that, no matter HOW you’re related to me.

7 – Living the places I’ve lived: Florida, Indiana, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, New York – it’s been super fun and enriching. Would like to spread that to Europe, if it’s possible.

8 – Letting go of religion in all forms and truly embracing my agnosticism. It’s been total freedom and joy for me.

9 – Accepting that some of my family (Carl, excluded) could not be what I needed and realizing that my best friends are as close as family and there is no shame in this. Just love.

10 – Getting the DS as the last step in a long journey towards accepting myself and loving myself and figuring out that there was too much blame and guilt about being overweight.

It’s a good life.

Oh right – posting once a day until surgery.

Yeah – about that…..

Well, it’s now 3 days before surgery (2.5, actually) and things are good. I’m not nervous, I’m not scared, I’m not freaking out. I am something – but I’m having trouble putting a name to it. “Anxious” and “jitters” are too strong as is “excited”. There is a vibration….that’s the best way I can describe it. A medium level vibration – it’s a positive thing, but very slightly manic.

My biggest issue is getting my brain to shut down enough to sleep. Not because of worry but because I keep thinking of 100 new things I want to accomplish before Thursday morning. But so far, we’re doing good: house is organized, furniture is moved, curtains are up, cats have a new litter box, maids are coming tomorrow, food for Brad and Kathy is in the fridge as well as items for me post-op, vitamins are purchased, mom and Jerry are set up and coming in on Wednesday, except for one more laundry drop off and pickup – all errands have been run…..I mean….I’m REALLY prepared. I still have a list of things to do tomorrow but, yeah…..I don’t think I can get more prepared.

Sunday was a day of organizing and shopping, but Saturday and Friday were all about friends.

Friday I hung out with Lauren (has had the same surgery as me with the same doctor). She invited me over to have lunch and swim/lounge upstate. It was perfect. Just what I needed. I felt instantly at home and comfortable and we just gabbed and gabbed and gabbed. She let me ask her any questions I could think of and she’s been an incredible source of comfort when it comes to this surgery. I’m really blessed and thankful.

Friday night Brad and I went out to a steak house and just talked and laughed and had a good time. It was a lovely evening and it felt nice to be out with B and enjoying his company.

Saturday was all about Matt and Tab. I had a great day hanging out in the city with them and ending it all eating ‘nanner puddin’ at Magnolia.

Sunday Tab and I went to breakfast and I told her about my therapy breakthrough……it’s hard to explain but basically it’s about trust and who you invite into your life. Let me try to break it down….

For a lot of my life I felt I needed to fight to have a voice, fight to survive, fight to find an identity….but now I no longer need to fight for those things. I just am. The fighting was necessary, don’t get me wrong. But it isn’t who I am any longer.

Which took me to the next step…..I can trust myself that the people I invite into my heart are not out to hurt me (this is the people closest to me) and if I know that to be true – there is no reason to ask them (or me) to change. There is only enjoying who they are – to do otherwise is missing out on the person I asked into my life. I do not have abusers in my life and will not….so all I must do is trust and let be. It’s so much easier and gracious when I can look at my husband or my friends and say ‘be who you are’. Then the pressure is off of me too….I am enough.

What does this mean for people that hurt? It means I am wise enough and strong enough to know when to let someone in and when to guard my heart. It means that those not worth my trust may be colleagues and acquaintances but there is no need to bring them close enough to feel entwined and enmeshed. And if I’m smart enough to do that – there is no need to ask them, either, to be anything but who they are. Everything else is my responsibility: my sensitivities, my reactions, my pain…..it is all mine to look at and deal with.

An added point to this is I was NOT ready to be at this place ten years ago – I didn’t yet know how to keep ‘the unhealthy’ out of my life. I didn’t yet know how to discern between those who were good for me and those who were not. I needed to fight.

That was my big therapy ‘wow’. I realized that I’ve expected so much emotional perfection from myself that I thought the way to ‘work’ in a relationship was by asking that of the people around me too. It’s not easy to remember this every time someone does something that annoys me or I them…..but it feels right.

I feel like fighting for consciousness was the boat I needed to get across that river of my life. I’ve crossed it and no longer need that boat. On to the next river and the next boat.

I feel lighter now.

I couldn’t sleep last night or the night before. Even after meditation I’m just having trouble getting my brain to shut down – all I can think about is all the things I need to accomplish. I figured I’d get up and make a list. Then I decided to also read through my pre-op list: when to stop medications, when to go on liquid diet, etc.

Then a surprise.

The very last page of my packet is a very detailed medical clearance form that says it is to be filled out by my primary care physician no longer than seven days prior to surgery. um…huh? I had no idea. No one has mentioned this. No one has asked for it. So first thing this morning I called my surgeons office and sure enough – I have to get this filled out. The office also says ‘your PCP will need your pre-op tests – want me to fax those over’. Um….how come when I was HAVING the pre-op testing no one mentioned this?

And on top of that, our insurance somehow got all fucked up and was showing that I wasn’t covered but Brad was.

Needless-to-say that before and after my therapy appointment I was on the phone and on the phone and on the phone. I’m scheduled to see my PCP on Saturday and it looks like the insurance is sorted out. We’ll see. Not what you want to hear seven days prior to surgery.

So – early to bed tonight. Two nights of very little sleep has me dragging, but tomorrow I am going to my friend Lauren’s house upstate for the day and we are chillin’ by the pool and she is making chicken caesar salads. I cannot tell you how thankful and excited I am about this visit. Just to float and talk and relax for an entire afternoon. Then tomorrow night I’m gonna put on a dress and go on a date with my husband to a steak house. STEAK! Get that steak in my belly!

I’ll report back after the steak is in my belly.