I'm back...

[Guest guest]

Hey beautiful people!

I'm back! There has been so much that I've been going through, but

now things seem to be calming down a bit.

And it's time to get back into the swing of things as an active

member of this group. After all, I am a moderator of the group

(thanks, Shell).

Hello to all new members. I wish you the best on your journey.

You're so lucky to have found this wonderful group of caring souls.

Please allow me to introduce myself and update you long-timers on

where I am on my journey. I'm Francisco. I am 41 (soon to be 42 on

July 4th), and I had open RNY gastric bypass surgery on June 3,

2003. I have lost a total of 153 lbs, and I have been at my goal

weight for 8 months. I have had two reconstructive surgeries:

abdominoplasty and gynecomastia, which I paid for out of pocket

($14,000.00).

Everything in my life has changed—my mind, body and spirit. I once

lived a half-life of unrealized dreams. I was a prisoner in my own

body, and I was desperate to find a way out. Thank God I learned

that Kaiser covered gastric bypass surgery. My transformation has

not been easy. Yes, my physical recovery was relatively smooth, but

the emotional arena has been where the real work needed and still

needs to be done.

As the layers of fat melted off, I felt exposed as never before, and

my old buddy, lover, friend, soul mate—food—was no longer there to

comfort me. I had to find new ways of believing in myself, of

talking to myself, of caring for myself.

I had to find new ways to experience joy, and I had to realize that

all the sorrow and regret of so many years of morbid obesity had to

be dealt with, without food. And the emotional pain didn't suddenly

go away because my surgeon rearranged my intestinal tract. I had to

believe that I could cry it out, feel the pain, and that I'd still be

OK. I also had to find new non-food-related interests that would

bring me joy. I had to begin to look for sources of inspiration. I

needed to find and take in every spark of happiness and beauty that I

could. I needed to learn that I didn't have to take in every ounce

of sorrow or make others' troubles my own.

The physical transformation was rather quick, and I made sure that

the emotional and spiritual changes didn't lag behind. With the

weight loss, I experienced a great deal of personal loss: some old

friends (all morbidly obese) abandoned me, and I, in turn, cut them

out of my life. I was so wounded by their betrayal, but I could no

longer tolerate that kind of poison in my recovery process. Then

came the hardest part of my journey: my eleven-year long-term

relationship—my whole world of safety—came to an end. Zach, my

former partner, was just not on the same page with me anymore. He

didn't know me anymore. He said, " The old Francisco I knew and loved

is gone. It's like he died. I miss him. " The split, while

amicable, has caused me the greatest pain in this process so far. I

will always care for him because of the good person he is, but I

cannot share my life with someone who doesn't know me and does not

share my dreams.

Ironically, as my transformation caused Zach to not recognize who I

was, I was growing to feel more and more like my true self. I began

to feel hope and joy like never before. People treated me

differently. Men (and some women) expressed interest in me

sexually. That was scary and exciting all at once. I could have let

myself become bitter with the resentment that these people would

never have found me attractive 153 pounds ago, but the truth is, I

didn't either, but not for physical reasons, but emotional ones.

People have commented to me that I'm radiant. And it's true, not

because of what's outside, but what's on the inside. My body feels

wonderful like never before. I feed it and nourish it like it has

deserved for so many years. I joined the National AIDS Marathon

training program, and I run with 20- and 30-somethings. As we start

each run, a smile comes naturally to me as I feel the joy of flight.

My spirit is soaring as I run through the most beautiful areas of San

Francisco. As we run along the beach, I hear the wind whistling in

my ears, the ocean mist kissing my face, the colors of wild flowers

dazzling my eyes, the laughter of my pace group warming my heart.

There is so much beauty and joy that sometimes I find it

overwhelming. How can this be happening to me? Why did God finally

hear my secret cries and take away my pain? Why has the isolation

and imprisonment been turned into a mind that expresses love to

itself, a heart that sings, a body that dances and a spirit that

soars? Sometimes it feels like there has been a beam of light that

has come down from heaven, and it illuminates me. I think that's why

people have said that I'm radiant. It's because I'm healthy, I smile

all the time, I feel good and I no longer wear a suit of armor made

of fat. I no longer wear my pain because I no longer eat my pain.

The radiance they see is freedom.

The pain is still there. I experience pain like everyone else. When

I finally cried about the break up with Zach, each tear represented

searing pain like a knife tearing my heart to pieces. I felt so much

guilt about leaving the relationship. Then one of our kitties died.

Then Zach lost his job.

There is nothing I can do about that except pray and turn it over to

God. I can only control what goes into my mouth, whether or not I

will exercise, and how I will talk to myself. As a friend said to

me, " You are not responsible for Zach's happiness; you are

responsible for YOUR happiness. You are responsible for taking care

of YOU. "

Upon Dr. Gity's advice, I had reached out to build a new circle of

friends, to experience life as a normal-weighted person. She told us

that we need to be part of a group in which you are not a WLS

patient; you are just who you are. I am so much more that a " gastric

bypass poster child. " I joined a gay/lesbian square dance group.

I became a member of a church in San Francisco. I attended support

groups (online and in-person). And in my time of need, people

stepped forward to offer me a shoulder to cry on. The investment of

time and emotion into new, healthy friendships rendered the dividends

that I had hoped for—support, community, acceptance and love.

Then came the icing on the cake (pardon that metaphor). After a

period of dating like a mad man, I had gone on a break from the mind

games of men and dating. I went on a church retreat looking for rest

and spiritual renewal. The first evening, I decided to take a nature

walk by myself. , a tall and handsome man of my church, asked

if he could join me. I said, " Sure. "

and I had known each other since October of 2004, maybe a

little before. Interestingly, and I became members of the

church on the same Sunday. We actually stood next to each other

while we took our vows. It was October 17, 2004. I had reached my

goal weight on October 16, 2004, one day before.

On the nature walk, and I made a connection that surprised us

both. We began talking about recovery, me from morbid obesity, him

from alcoholism. We both spoke the language of recovery. He

understood me in ways that others do not. While the substance may be

different, the basics of our programs remain the same.

By the end of the nature walk, we had hugged. Soon thereafter we

were holding hands. Later in the evening we shared our first kiss.

By Sunday night, we had talked and shared so much that we decided it

was right for us to date exclusively—we became boyfriends. We've

shared so much since then. I had dinner with and his Mom,

and we really hit it off. She now refers to me a son #5 (she has

four sons). made dinner for my Mom, Dad and brother, and

they got along great.

And so here I am, two years after my gastric bypass with a life I

never imagined. I have been blessed beyond measure, but not by

possessions, but with love. And it started when I began to believe

that this miracle would happen. I had no idea I was capable of such

courage, such strength, such fortitude. I had no idea that there

would be so much pain, so much loss. And I couldn't have imagined

that there would be so much love—no only from others, but from myself.

Finally, the deep, gnawing hunger in my heart has begun to be

satisfied. I now know that food can never feed my soul. It was my

soul that was hungry for love, and I denied myself that love for way

too many years. Sure, I had the love of friends and family, but it

wasn't enough to take away the self-hatred that kept me fat and

unhealthy in mind, body and spirit. At long last I have given myself

that gift, the gift of loving myself for who I am, the way God made

me, just as I am, perfectly flawed, imperfectly flawless, deserving

of love for no other reason than this: I exist, and as such, I

deserve to be loved by others, but most importantly, I deserve the

self-love and self-esteem that can only come from within. At long

last, I finally love me.

Thanks for reading.

Francisco

At goal

www.aidsmarathon.com

runner 0024