bitingcat

I'm a 46 year old mom of two special needs teens. I've had problems with my weight since early childhood - growing up with a clinically depressed mom and ptsd dad probably didn't help. I have auto-immune problems - asthma, severe hayfever, skin allergies, and food allergies - that limit my ability to exercise outside and eat a veggie intensive diet. Chlorophyll and melon family allergies mean the "healthy caesar salad" isn't an option, also contributing to weight gain. 
After a rocky start with depression, bad relationships, and dysfunctional eating habits in high school and college, things started to improve in my mid-twenties. Everything but my weight. I'd wrecked my metabolism by then and it was all I could do not to gain. But I married and awesome guy and had two great kids. Both pregnancies I was sick as a dog and ended up needing c-sections, though. My first was incredibly needy; my second required constant supervision. Later, they were diagnosed ASD with GAD, and ASD with ADHD respectively; all I know is that I didn't sleep for about ten years. The stress and sleep deprivation combined with "kid friendly" food for sensory problems resulted in steady weight gain for that same decade. My days were spent homeschooling and driving kids to therapy.
I tried to take care of myself when I could, first starting antidepressants, and later addressing a serious hormone imbalance, i.e., high estrogen, low progesterone, and no testosterone at all. I limited carbs and tried to stay active, but was never able to do more than stabilize my weight. When my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few years ago, things started to go down hill. Part of it was age and hormones; part of it was stress. But for the first time ever, my blood pressure and blood sugar became a problem and I began to gain weight again, and a long time ankle injury became a major problem.
After much prayer and consideration, I decided on gastric sleeve. My sister - with a masters in traditional Chinese medicine - agreed. She felt my body was convinced I was starving to death and needed a giant kick in the ass.
At 7 months post-op I have no regrets about the surgery. I wish my hormones hadn't gone horribly out of whack and required a hysterectomy; I wish I hadn't been out of commision with horrible anemia for months; I wish I had dealt with my ankle two years ago and wasn't so limited in my exercise. (Or being threatened with more surgery.) But all of that stuff was going to have happened anyway. I let things get out of control and then threw weight loss surgery at it in a last ditch effort.
I've lost about 70 lbs since surgery and too much of that was muscle. I still struggle with depression and fear that I blew my "honeymoon" bleeding out on the couch. But I have a wonderful husband who went low carb to support me and has lost almost as much weight as I have. I have fabulous teenagers who started public school this year and are succeeding. I have lost *some* weight, which is more than I've ever managed before. My surgeon (who said my uterus was "evil and had to go") has cleared me to resume PT and start working on my ankle again.
I need to fix things as best I can. I need to be here for my husband and children. I need to keep working at this whole thing, despite the complications.