Hi Jessica! Wow, if I wouldn't have looked at your name on your post, I would have sworn that I wrote it. Your story is almost identical to mine. We even have the same surgery date! The only difference is that I've only lost about 20 pound since my surgery date, so you're a little ahead of me there. Also, I went through the crisis you're going through back in November, so I'm a little ahead of you there. You also post here more often than I do. I haven't posted anything here since last July. In fact, I stopped visiting the site because it became too painful for me to read so many success stories knowing that I was one big failure.
I'm not sure if I have any good advice to offer you, but maybe knowing that you're not the first person to feel this way will help a little bit.
It's almost comical to me now to think how hopeful and excited I was last July. I wouldn't have admitted it then, but I was sure the band was the answer to all of my problems. I was finally going to lose weight and look like a real person, not an icky blob anymore. When I was skinny, that special guy would finally be able to see the real me and fall madly in love with me. We'd get married and have 4 babies just like I'd planned when I was in high school. And I'd live happily every after. I was sure that's what was just around the corner for me. I remember thinking when I finally put my summer clothes away last summer that I'd never be able to fit into them again. (I'm wearing them right now.) I just feel ridiculous when I think about all that now. I should have known that the band was not going to be the answer when the surgeon explained the surgery to me, and my first thought was, "Yes! I can still eat ice cream!"
I'm not exactly sure when I realized that none of my life plans were ever going to happen. All I know is that when I did realize it, it hit me like a ton of bricks. There was a black cloud over my head that would not go away, and I was absolutely miserable. I was never one to exercise a lot, but with the black cloud perched permanently over my head, I stopped exercising completely. I ate a lot of things that I shouldn't have eaten. Then I would get upset about being so bad, and it wasn't long before I was eating ice cream to make myself feel better.
And then there were my follow up appointments with the surgeon. I'll just come right out and say it... My doctor is an ass. He seemed okay before the surgery, but but after surgery, he was just a jerk. It was like the guy was getting paid by the pound. If I wasn't losing weight, he was making money. Either that, or he was afraid my failure would make it appear that he was a failure. All I know is that I dreaded going to my appointments. I told him that I was just as hungry and could eat just as much after the surgery as I could before the surgery. He told me that he refused to fill the band until I started exercising. It was kind of a battle of the wills, I guess. The only redeeming thing about my doctor is the nurse practitioner who I see at every appointment. She's does most of the work, and then he comes in and yells at me for a while. That's how most appointments went. Well, then came my November appointment. I expected it to go just like every other appointment (get on the scale, get dissappointed, get yelled at, promise to do better, and then pretend I didn't have the band for another 6 weeks). For some reason though, I became very upset when I found out I'd gained 2 pounds this time. By the time I got in to the exam room and started talking to the NP, I was in tears. I spilled my guts about everything. I told her that I thought I'd made a horrible mistake in having the surgery and I was giving up. I told her that there was really no point in trying anymore, because even if I eventually did lose the weight, it would be too late for any of my dreams to come true. Thankfully, she recognized right away that I was depressed, and she made an appointment for me to see a psychiatrist within the week.
I didn't want to see a psychiatrist, but I went anyway. He put me on antidepressants. I'm not saying that they turned my life around, but they helped a lot. Eventually the black cloud went away (for the most part). One day, I was in a good enough mood that I actually got on the treadmill again. One day turned into two days, and two days eventually turned into most days. I'm not saying that now everything is perfect. I've still only lost about 20 sad, pathetic little pounds. I still love ice cream. I'm still ashamed I'm doing so poorly. I know what you mean about people thinking, "She had weight loss surgery??" That's why I don't tell anyone about the band anymore and I don't let anyone who I have told talk about it. But I do feel like I have a little bit of hope again. Not hope that a hot guy will be knocking at my door any time soon, but just hope that I won't be an utter failure at this.
Sorry, I didn't intend for this to be such a long post. I just wanted you know know that you're not alone in your feelings. I also urge you to talk to your doctor about everything. I'm certainly not trying to push medication on you, but I know it made a big difference for me. Hang in there. It will get better! :Banane43:
