fattypatties

I don't think I've written these words yet in a public forum: I have diabetes.

I started to write "I am a diabetic," but I don't like that construction. I am not diabetes. I am me. But I do struggle with keeping my blood sugar in a healthy range. I have hypothyroidism. I am over 50. I am mostly post-menopausal. It's been a rough few years. I swear I turned 50 and my body fell apart.

I am aware that a lot of people in the world are cheering at these facts about me, as if they prove something. As if my becoming ill justifies all the weight loss schemes and all the risk factor studies. I am a bad fattie. I am one of those people who supposedly demonstrates that being over 300 pounds means instant death or long-term illness or the absolute end of health care as we know it.

I've been hesitant to write about diabetes especially because it is all the rage right now to demonstrate how bad fat is by equating it with diabetes.

But yesterday I had an epiphany of sorts. Or rather the obvious descended upon me with a dull thud. If I really believe in the principles of Health at Every Size®, then someone like me is on the front lines of these ideas. Someone like me is the one who has to fight for medical care that puts my health first rather than my weight. Someone like me has to speak out and say, it is not about weight, it is about health.

There are a multitude of theories on why I am facing these conditions at this time in my life. Weight is only one and it isn't a very good one. My guess is that it is a combination of all the stupid things I did to try to lose weight with all the wonderful genes given to me by my ancestors. In other words, a lot of it is the result of weight stigma and things beyond my control. I have regrets, but being fat is not one of them.

But that is all water under the bridge. The real question is what am I to do about it?

Dr. Sharma would categorize me as a "level 5" bad fattie and punish me with starvation and stomach mutilation (nightmares that sound like science fiction if you think about it outside of our cultural belief that fat is bad) even though his own research shows that it is not weight that determines these conditions.

I think HAES® is needed in cases like mine more than ever because what I need is HEALTH care NOT weight loss. That is the central principle of HAES®--concentrate on health not weight.

My biggest challenge these days are my feet (and some times my hands). I have neuropathic pain daily. I had hoped that control of thyroid and blood sugar would make it go away and so for the past two years we've been trying to address the underlying conditions. But even though I'm stable on thyroid medicine (and symptoms have subsided, except this one) and I'm improving on blood sugar, I still have to fight daily pain. I am finally this summer taking pain medicine. It has helped.

My feet also represent my thorniest issue for my own body love. In short, I've hated my feet most of my life in one way or another. Maybe that's why they're being so mean to me now, eh?

A discussion about shoes with friend of mine on FaceBook this week reminded me of how I loved to run barefoot as a kid. I still don't wear shoes unless I absolutely must. But my feet are damaged goods due to my current battle with neuropathy as well as an injury to my left foot in 2004 that left me a little less able to walk. It is the foot injury that put me in the permanently disabled category and for which I use my scooter and cane. My feet have always been problematic. I had one doctor tell me, however, that it was a good thing that I did go barefoot as a kid because shoes probably would have damaged them more.

They are kind of ugly, I have to admit. And the injury and nerve damage have made them less pretty. I inherited my dad's feet and legs. My mother has beautiful feet and legs. I have my dad's knobby knees, and feet that are shaped more like paddles (narrow heels with wide toes that spread out and look kind of duck-like, except when they are swollen at night). I live in the desert, so they are dry most of the time, even though I put lotion on them frequently. Everyone has a part of their body that they wish at some point or another were different and my feet are that for me. So here's a picture of my feet at their ugliest (night time). However, today, I'm going to celebrate my feet.


Remembering going barefoot as a kid, I'm finding a little love for my feet and all they've done for me for the past 54+ years:

I love the feel of grass between my toes.
Or wet sand sucking at my soles.
I love the way it tickled when an ant crawled over the top.
Or when I hopscotched hurriedly across the gravel drive.
I love the heat from the sidewalk
Or the cold water form the lake.

My feet were the connection between me and the great mother.
I tickled her cheek and she let me feel a world of sensations in return.

Thank you feet.
Thank you dirty earth squished under my heel.
Thank you sand and grass and gravel and concrete and water and ocean and snow and ice.
Thank you for grounding me throughout the years.
Thank you, Gaia for feet!

So I can now say I love myself from my head down to my toes!

And, I can say, I understand now that I am a HAES® warrior. It turns out I'm right on the front line.

I'm impressed with Master Chef, Julie Goodwin. I guess the early reports that she turned down a quarter of a million dollars from Jenny Craig was innaccurate. No figure was apparently discussed, but the person leaving the job was paid a rumored $900K, so I'm sure it was a big pile of money from which she walked away.

I especially liked why she walked away:

"I am less concerned about my weight than about the fact that one in seven people do not have enough food to eat each day and that is why I wanted to be an ambassador for Oxfam Grow" (source: Daily Telegraph)

Yeah I know that she later reassured everyone that she watches what she eats and she didn't think all weight loss was bad and all the other disclaimers about it being her life and her choices, but she's still a hero in my eyes because she walked away from the money and she is doing something more important with her life.

I want to celebrate her decision because as things developed last week regarding Jess Weiner (look it up because I'm over linking to her or providing her with search engine optimization through net attention), I became profoundly disappointed in how contrived and base it all seemed. She was a shill for Dove and now she is going to be a shill for weight loss. Too bad, so sad, and frankly, boring.

The contrast to between Jess and Julie is profound and holds important lessons about self-love and priorities. Julie is okay with being herself, so her priorities can lead her elsewhere. It is her own heart and not money that rules her decisions.

So I just want to give Julie Goodwin a great big shout out for loving her self and loveing others and keeping her priorities straight. If you're on FaceBook, you might go by her page and letting her know you appreciate her. Or better yet, support OxFam in her honor, which I'm sure she'd appreciate.

I am not healthy. I have not been healthy for years. Now you know the obvious. In 1987, I was healthy. I had beautiful metabolic numbers. I walked and jogged a lot. I played tennis regularly. I was 30 years old and most people thought I was under 21. I rarely smoked or drank. I was profoundly unhappy, however. I was in a bad marriage and I was sure I was going to die because I weighed 260 pounds.

Instead of helping me see that I could enjoy my life and my body if I uncovered my own wants, desires and happiness, I got bad advice. I was told I could only be happy if I shed the weight. I was told that my unhappiness didn't come from bad choices or from unresolved past issues or from simply not taking the time to know who I was and what I wanted to be. No, my unhappiness was because I was a thin person living in a fat body.

So a doctor gave this healthy body two prescriptions. Tenuate, which is a synthetic amphetamine and a diuretic to "jump start" my weight loss. Then I went on a 800 calorie diet that I faithfully followed for 2 years. I took my love of movement and turned it into a regimen of running 2 to 4 miles a day. I took my social life and ditched it for a fear of eating. And it turns out I took my healthy body and ruined it's metabolism.

In 1989, I was more messed up that ever emotionally, though I only weighed 130 pounds. I was divorced with no idea of what a good relationship could be. I was suicidal. Oh, and I was addicted not only to the Tenuate but to valuum that I started taking to sleep at night.

I've never been really healthy since that experience. But, hey, I was "success." My "after" picture was taken and I wrote a nice rendition of "my story" that was placed in a book for anyone walking into the bariatric clinic to see so that other's could be sold the path I had taken.

By 1993, most of the weight had come back on, though I was beginning to figure out who I was and what I wanted to be. By 1997, my health got worse and I have been disabled by my chronic conditions every since. So it is hard to say that I am healthy in the normal sense of that word.

The prevailing wisdom would say that it is the weight that created my ill health, but I know better. I know I was healthy at age 30 and that I did things to my body in the name of weight loss that led to disability. I dieted my way into disability and now I have to live with the body those behaviors and bad advice produced.

My first decision to love myself came in December 1990 while in a hospital because I had made a half-assed suicide attmept. I looked around at my surroundings and said, "I'm not crazy and I'm not going to choose to be crazy." I didn't fully understand what that journey meant, but it was definitely a first step towards loving myself because I rejected other people's definitions of me and started seeking my own.

My second decision to love myself came in November 1992 when I was fired from a job I hated and I decided I was never going to work full-time at a job I hated ever again. This decision eventually led to my getting my Ph.D. in Sociology as well as choosing to write, produce and create multi-media, rather than take a traditional academic trajectory.

My third decision to love myself came in August 1997 when I was misdiagnosed with lupus. The diagnosis was wrong but the prognosis was the same, I was facing life with chronic illness. I had to find a way to live that life fully.

The final decision to love myself came in January 2001, when I decided to give up dieting. I decided I was going to be the healthiest and happiest fat, disabled, aging person I could be. The transformation was complete. I loved my mind, I loved my talents, I loved my body.

But here's the thing. I am happier than I ever was. I do more healthy behaviors than I ever did. I love the skin I'm in. I love being me. I don't get up in the morning hoping that the day will be over. I don't dread my work. I don't hate my life.

I have aches and pains, and sometimes, I don't really recognize my aging body with its new wrinkles and new ailments. But I love my body and I care for it and treat as wonderfully as I can.

Life is struggle, but there is a difference between a struggle that feels like it is oppressing you and a struggle that holds the potential for growth and discovery. I prefer the latter.

So I'm fat. I'm disabled. I'm old. I'm not a poster girl for any particular cause. I live outside those boundaries and cannot hold myself up as a shining example of any particular success. But I'd rather be who I am today, than who I was at age 30.

That was my journey and it is one that I have to reaffirm in many ways almost daily, but it is also one that comes as naturally to me now as believing that if I just got skinny life would be okay came to me then.

I tell my journey often not because I necessarily need to do so, though it does help me to share it. I tell it often because it saddens me when I see young people falling for the same lies I fell for. It angers me to know that there are still "helpers" out there who are telling people, "you are not okay, let me sell you this to make you better." But I also tell my story for selfish reasons, because I know that if the market went away for these products, then my life would be easier. I could go through a day without being told how wrong I was. Loving myself would be respected. The more of us who love ourselves and accept ourselves and don't fall for the sales pitch, the easier it will be for all of us.

I wish you a pleasant and adventurous journey.

In the early Summer of of 1987, I took a job with Manpower at Honeywell in Clearwater, Florida. I was assigned to be a secretary for one of the program engineers in the Shuttle division. I learned a lot about aerospace engineering and how governments built space programs. By April 1, 1988, I was given a permanent job as the Project Administrator of the Space Station program. It was a very different idea then. The space station being built now is scaled down from the hopes of the late 80s. My job was to liason between all the engineers and our customer, McDonnell Douglas. By October of 1989, I was laid off in a major "down-sizing" in the company (over 5000 employees company wide, many more cuts were to follow).

In many ways I was proud of my small contribution to the space program. As a kid, I remember the moon landing vividly and I remember a 6th grade science teacher who challenged us to think about space and what it meant to our little planet.

I cried when I watched the video above. I was inspired by our space program and now it seems like it will go the way of all other great American dreams. It will be commodified and sold off to high bidders who will then fashion it as a profitable toys instead of highest aspirations. I spent the week watching old Star Trek episodes and thinking to myself how different the future is from what it was imagined. Star Trek of the 60s makes frequent references to the space program of the 1990s and early 21st century. Most of its references are laughable and seem silly in light of what really has happened.

Some of it is a good -- I mean we were supposed to have had a great World War III with a mass eugenics program and millions, if not billions, dying (check out the first appearance of Kahn in Space Seed for more details. But we also were supposed to be united as a planet and venturing out into deeper and deeper space by now. And we have not.

As a sociologist, I am aware of some of the problems with how the space program developed. The language of the "final frontier" is fraught with colonialism, ethnocentricism and xenophobic references that go unexamined. I know money is needed for more pressing problems and that many progressives fear the space program as much as they do our military industrial complex. There is a definite connection. The builders of the space station almost all have military divisions. And, of course, Reagan's star wars programs of the 1980s were both silly and frightening.

But, dammit, I miss the naivety of the early space program. I miss the feeling of pride and wonder. I miss the visions of a possible future where major human conditions could be solved and equality was the natural outcome. I watch the early Star Trek episodes and I want to live in a place where people are equal. Okay, there is a lot of sexist stuff, but for the 60s, having women in positions of power and working on ships was radical.

So this past week has been a bit emotional for me. Wednesday, July 20th, was not only the 42nd anniversary of the moon landing, but also it would have been my son's 22nd birthday. Thursday, July 21st, was the end of the Shuttle era and there isn't really a whole lot in the works as Congress spends its time posturing over the so-called debt crisis and NASA officials are all smiles about the comming "commercial era."

I feel old. It doesn't help that this coming Thursday, I will turn 54. I miss so many things and I am saddened by the world as it is because I had a vision of what it could be.

But I do know that it can be better. My favorite line from Apollo 13 comes early in the movie, when Jim Lovell (Tom Hanks) is talking to his wife Marilyn (Kathleen Quinlan) right after the moon walk:

"From now on, we live in a world where man has walked on the moon. And it's not a miracle, we just decided to go"

We could decide again. All we need is the vision.

I've had a few people ask me if I can reveal more about what happened. I will give you an update, but there is an investigation and I am in the process of small claims so at the moment I cannot reveal all.

The scam was a local mobile mechanic who claims to be licensed and insured but is not. He came to my home to look at my van. I described the repair work that had been done. He told me that something needed to be done that I found out later was just another way of saying what had already been done. He asked for cash up front. I paid. He removed a part from my van to be rebuilt. Then he disappeared for 9 days giving me all kinds of lame excuses as to why he could not come back.

I became suspicious and finally confronted him and told him if he didn't come and fix my van by noon the next day, I would be calling my lawyer and then whoever the lawyer suggested.

He showed up at 2p the next day and installed what turned out to be the same thing he took off only spray painted with a non-fuel-resistent paint sprayed OVER dirt (it was gritty). He didn't even put it back together correctly because it didn't work and it was working before. The van was running when he started work on it and he left it not running and demanding that I pay him more money to redo a repair that I had already told him had been done.

He didn't count on the fact that I knew more about cars than most laypersons (especially most women), though I obviously didn't know enough and got scammed anyway. He left saying I had to redo a repair that only had 5K miles on it or he wouldn't honor the "warranty." There was no warranty I have a receipt.

Now that I know what he did, he is insisting that because I had someone else clean up his mess that he cannot give me my money back because he cannot honor the warranty. Again, what warranty? He claims it was rebuilt by a "specialist" and he cannot get his money back, but, of course, he's not offering me the difference between what he claims to have paid for the rebuild and what he charged me for the installation. He has offered no proof that this specialist exists or offered to do anything to make this right.

I have reported him to the DMV investigative division(in Nevada, all mechanic and garage fraud cases are investigated by the DMV) and it turns out they have a case file on him already. From what I can gather from the net, he preys on stranded motorists, women and disabled persons. I have a disabled tag on my van.

I think his scam is to do a series of repairs with the last one fixing the vehicle and the person usually paying many times more than they should for the thing that needed to be done. Not knowing they have been duped, they write glowing reports about him on the net (of course some of those reports could be written by him and his friends). I think I messed him up by calling him on it before he could fix it finally.

I gave him $470 to do the spray paint job on something that didn't need fixing. Because he re-assembled it incorrectly, I had to pay another $135 to fix what he did. So I'm suing him for $605. Not much in some people's world but that's about 2/3of the extra money I made this semester that I set aside to have the van repaired. So to me it was a lot of money and summer is THE worst time to have a set back as I do not have any work right now and can't draw unemployment as a summer break teacher. (Subject for another rant.)

So once I am done with the legal entanglements with this guy I will definitely (if I'm allowed to do so) tell everyone his name. Hopefully, though, when all this is over he will be behind bars where he belongs. At the very least, he will not be out on the road taking advantage of vulnerable people.

By the way, on the emotional side of this, as soon as I heard from the DMV that they knew him and were investigating him, I felt vindicated. I know that if someone like me could be taken in by this guy (and he is a smooth talker until you call him on his shit, then he is a mean sonofabitch), that almost anyone could be taken. I couldn't sit back and let him keep doing this.

I've moved from embarrassed and feeling stupid to kick-ass mad-as-hell. Oh, and it feels a lot better.

======================
If you live in southern Nevada (or northwest AZ or southeast CA) and are considering a mobile mechanic, please email me and I will let you know who he is and also give you a recommendation for the guy who helped me fix this mess and get my van to pass smog and get back on the road.

I should have known better.

I think this what anyone who has ever been scammed by another person thinks.

The feeling is an overwhelming sense of shame and anger. Shame because surely if I had been smarter, paid more attention, checked out more things, etc. then I wouldn't have been taken. Anger because the disruption and damage hurt. Anger, also, because the world is a little tougher and I'm a little more jaded each time this happens.

The "confidence" man (or woman, I've been scammed by both genders) counts on the fear and shame. I don't like people who take things for granted about me. They hope that I will be too naive to understand that I've taken. Failing that, they hope I will be too embarrassed to report them.

I've been recently scammed and this one hurt badly. I was vulnerable and I think this guy saw that vulnerability and took advantage. Yes, I should have known better. I should have looked things up. I should have checked things out. I've got the knowledge. I've got the resources. But I thought I could trust. I shouldn't have.

Essentially I've lost an amount that might not be a lot for many people, but represents a large amount for me. I've lost it at the worst time of the year to lose it. And it is a set-back that happened when I thought I might be actually recovering from the last set-back (which, btw, also began with a scam).

Let me be clear. I'm doing what I should do at this point. I'm talking with my prepaid lawyer about it. I'm collecting evidence. I'm taking it one step at a time. I am determined not to just let it go because I believe this person is targeting vulnerable people and he needs to be stopped.

What I'm not doing is coping well with it emotionally. I'm trying. After all I feel worse after each breakdown, like he's winning again, making me more vulnerable. I also feel ungrateful to the people who are helping me survive this. But I am crying. A lot. I have this feeling of having been socked in the gut. I'm a little nervous, anxious, jumpy. And just about anything can trigger tears.

I'm also withdrawing. Being civil to people is hard to do right now. I'm wishing I could run far away from humans. I'm feeling disgusted with the whole human race.

I'm also fighting to not let this change me. I'm basically an optimistic person who believes that people should just be straight with each other. Okay, I know most people are not and I have healthy skepticism. But one of the reasons I'm vulnerable is the my first inclination is to trust, to believe. I hate, hate, hate that people don't respect that. I hate, hate, hate that now I have to distrust, check out, test people. I hate, hate, hate that now I have to build a taller wall and keep more people out in order to stay safe.

I also hate the insecurity of the loss. I worked hard this past semester, taking on an extra course. Basically I've lost 3/4 of what I made on the extra course. This was supposed to be money that would cushion the summer months, making it an easier time. Now it is going to be one of the worst summers yet. I really don't need another bad time. I've survived so many. I want a break. I deserve a break.

A part of me believes that I must have been a monster in my previous life because it feels like I'm punished over and over again. Bad karma.

I probably shouldn't write about this in public, but doing so affirms my desire to remain a basically open and honest person. So here it is, raw.

I have been through scams and set-backs and hard times so often that I know I will survive. But the emotions are still real.

I also write in the hope that writing will make it better. Sometimes things stated out loud lose their power.

Finally I write because others may feel the same thing. I want you to know that the feelings do not prohibit taking action. You can do all the right things and still feel these feelings.

I'd like to say it is all better now, but it is not. I'm still anxious and on the verge of tears and overwhelmed. But it did help. At least I know I'm not defeated. Something important to remember.

Mother's Day is a tough holiday for me personally. There are women like me in the world who appear to the world around us as childless but who have lost one or more children at some point in the stages of becoming/being a mother.

I didn't exactly have a miscarriage. My son died while still inside me and I went through the pain of waiting for my body to figure that out. When that didn't happen, labor was induced. "No heartbeat" still rings in my ears and stings my soul over 21 years later. This is not something that one "gets over." It is something that one "lives with."

The question "Do you have any children?" is an impossible one for me. At one point in my life, I answered "yes" and offered the explanation. Now I sometimes answer "no" because it is easier and less invasive. But the answer "no" pains me nonetheless. I feel like I am betraying something or someone.

There are several times each year that make me pause: January 16, when labor was induced; mid-July when he would have been born; the Christmas season; and Mother's Day. I think today is the toughest because I feel like it's on everyone's mind. But it is also the easiest because I know there are women who feel like I do, who feel left out, who harbor some dread even if they honor their own mothers.

Today is not a happy day for everyone. Please remember on this day several things:

1. That some people do not have good mothers. Women are not instantly good mothers because they had sex and fertile wombs. Motherhood is something that one has to practice and learn. So don't assume that everyone should honor their mother. Some mothers are not worth honoring and children who know that are often better people than the mother's who bore them.

2. That the children of some mothers are no longer with us and that this day might be hard for those mothers.

3. That even women who have no children can be good mothers. We can understand how we are expressions of Mother Earth and we can care for and nurture others, ensuring that their lives are fruitful, peaceful and fulfilling.

4. That men can be good mothers too. All creatures are capable of nurturing and caring. We are all mothers and fathers. We have both natures inside us. These words we construct with masculine and feminine meanings are mere reflections of the deeper capacity all human beings have to care and frankly, right now, this world could use a lot more caring.

5. The origin of this holiday is Mother's Day for Peace. Howe encouraged women to use their experiences of motherhood in the wider social world, to think of a world that is good for all children, including all children who have grown to adulthood. Today should be a call for charity, peace and freedom.

So I write this today as a way to transform my own experience of this day into something more than an annual reminder of personal loss. Today I choose to celebrate motherhood. Yes, I will call my mom, whom I do honor. But I will remember that this is just one expression of what this day could/should mean. Knowing that today should be a call for peace among us humans makes this day easier for me to take.

The events of the last week have weighed heavily on my soul. I long for peace and freedom. So I celebrate today as a reminder of that peace and freedom. I hope others will too.

Happy Mother's Day of Peace.

A friend of mine gave me a card that still sits on the fridge. On the front it says "dare to be naive." Over the years I've contemplated a myriad of meanings for the card. This is the meaning I'm contemplating tonight.

The world is absurd, and yet, I am naive enough to want to find its meaning.

I naively think that when people say they want freedom, they know what that means, that trying to contain or control the chaos usually results in less freedom.

I naively think that people will take me at face value. But a false dichotomy grips this land called America. "If you're not for us, then you're agin' us." Can't I just be "for" something without having to take up a whole side. I don't fit. I don't want to fit into this neat box. I like fractals.



I naively think that in order there is chaos and in chaos there is order.

I naively think that I am a free person and that holding an idea that overlaps with one side of this artificial, false divide does not limit me from holding an idea that overlaps with the other side. I am free to have my own side, as I see it.

I naively think that my having a brain is a good thing. Apparently, the world sees it as an inconvenience.

I hold little power. I have no money. My opinion does not count and is not sought. Others decide for me. I am constructed by others and then made to suffer the consequences of the construction as if it were my own doing. I am naive enough to believe I might get to have say in my own identity.

This culture, this place, this 235 year old experiment is falling apart because of this false divide. Turns out that a house divided against itself just collapses.
I am naive enough to think something better might emerge from the implosion (maybe that's just what Vegas taught me).

You may be wondering what triggered this contemplation and its underlying anger, disgust and sadness.

Nothing and everything.

I'm naive enough to speculate and wait around to see what's next. I am naive enough to believe that there has to be a better way.

This month, I am participating in a ReVolution! -- Every Monday in January I plan to write a blog post here about my life and how Health at Every Size℠ has changed my life for better. This is the fifth and final installment of five.

IDENTITY, STIGMA AND HEALTH AT EVERY SIZE℠

Erving Goffman is said to have looked through newspapers and magazines every day, clipping items that helped him shape his ideas about how people interact with each other. Several key elements emerged in his writing.

First, he noted that people anticipate how others will view them and seek to manage that view through action, gesture, dress and facial expression. He called this "impression management." He suggested that this thing we call our "self" is actually a multitude of "selves" that are created in the moment of interaction with other people who are also presenting their "selves" in an attempt to manage our impression of them. In essence we play parts like in a play and we change our behavior and our presentation based upon who we are with and how intimate we are with that person. Questions of trust, authenticity, desire and control inevitably become part of the mix.

It is this background that helped Goffman develop his ideas about social stigma. He defined social stigma as a "spoiled identity." He suggested that those who are stigmatized by others are limited in their ability to manage impressions. When we are stigmatized, those who would view us through a single lens do not let us show them multiple layers of abilities, character traits, desires, etc. To stigmatize is to control another and to prevent them from having a useful and fulfilling social relationship.

Here's how it works. If I am stigmatized and I do something that fits the stereotype of my stigmatized social identity, I am used to prove the truth of the stigma. If I do something that is different from the stigma I am regarded as being inauthentic, faking it or trying too hard. I cannot escape the stigma and show my authentic self, or manage impressions that move away from the stigma.

Most of what has been done about stigma since Goffman has missed the point. Efforts are made to help individuals who are part of stigmatized populations to cope with the stigma and rise above it. This usually only serves to reify the stigma not end it. If stigma is to end, it must be ended by those who are stigmatizing. It is telling that English is so convoluted at this point. We do not really have a word for those who stigmatize. Bigot, maybe, but that can evoke a history that one might not want to evoke. Stigma is often regarded as the "right" attitude to have.

For example, there is a kind of reasoning that suggests that stigmatizing fat is correct because fatness is a result of laziness and a lack of self-control on the part of the person who is deemed fat. Fat people are placed into a cardboard, flat group that assumes all individuals deemed a part of the group are alike and, indeed are lazy and lacking in control. These are the only things that matter about the fat person. A fat singer, a fat Ph.D., a fat scientist, a fat physician, a fat athlete and so forth cannot exist as just a singer, Ph.D., scientist, physician, athlete. The word fat as an adjective changes the identity of the noun into something less than human.

But most people do not regard this as bigotry. This stigma is regarded as not only good but as necessary to help the fat person become thin. The stigmatizer is seen as "caring" about the "health" of the fat person.

But the stigma translates into a self-fulfilling prophecy with discrimination leading to reinforcement of the stereotypes. Fat people are insured less often and therefore put off going to doctors and getting health care, which leads to them become sicker. Fat people earn less money, making it harder for them to adequately acquire clothing and other symbols that suggest competency or diligence. Fat people are pushed to social backstage, which leads other to assume that they are unhappy with their bodies. And, of course, almost all fat people have tried to get thinner, which reinforces this belief as well.

Here's the problem. Stigma limits the life chances of human beings. It doesn't improve health. It makes it worse.

Stigma creates stress and stress creates imbalances in our physical and emotional well-being. There is ample evidence that stigma is a predictor of ill-health and there is growing evidence that this may have to do with a physiological change that surprise, surprise, leads to all those conditions that are associated with and are supposedly caused by being fat.

So I could sit here and make a health argument at this point, citing articles and studies. But I want to make a different point with this post.

Stigma is also a bad things to do to another human being. It is controlling and limiting the freedom of people. It shuns and shames people. In a word, it is just ain't right.

So I'd like to suggest in this last installment that the reason to embrace Health at Every Size℠ is because it is a stigma-free approach. Instead of treating a person as being less than human because of their size (and by the way, this happens to people on the thin end of the spectrum as well, not too mention people are considered too short or too tall), HAES℠ celebrates all bodies. Instead of dividing humans into acceptable bodies and unacceptable bodies, HAES℠ opens the door to people being judged on what they do, not what they look like.

To me, this is the most important reason to embrace HAES℠. Health is relative and there can be much debate on what is and is not good for a person. But dignity, empathy and diversity are not debatable. So often fat people, even fat activists, get caught up in justifying their existence by outlining how healthy one can be and still be fat. But that is not the issue. The issue is that weight-focused health care is stigmatized health care.

My favorite slogan, which has been co-opted from the disabilities movement is "nothing about us without us." A real test of public health policy as well as personal health care is the extent to which the voice of the patient is heard. Fat people are silenced by medicalization of their natural variation.


So listen up world. We do not need help. We do not need a cure. We do not need to be changed. We are that perfection. We have dignity. We are human. It really is that simple.

And that, to me is the essence of Health at Every Size℠.

This month, I am participating in a ReVolution! -- Every Monday in January I plan to write a blog post here about my life and how Health at Every Size℠ has changed my life for better. This is the fourth installment of five.

HEALTH AT EVERY SIZE℠ AND THE LIFESTYLE POLICE --
(OR WHY HEATH AT EVERY SIZE℠ IS IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE OF ALL SIZES)

John Kennedy did implement the President's Council on Physical Fitness, which offered students rewards for various achievements in phys ed. I remember winning badges for things like long-jumping and running 100 yards (I had the second best time in my school for a girl in 11th grade). But there was not a lot of rhetoric connecting the physical fitness program with specific diseases and the question of public health. Since the 1970s, "fitness" has become more and more about policing behavior and personal responsibility, not about the joy of movement or the achievement of milestones.

What shifted in the 1970s with the physical fitness craze that led to the 1980s shift into funding lifestyle programs rather than prevention programs, was a fundamental understanding of health. The Baby Boomers seemed to have got it into their heads (as a group) that they could control their health. Jogging became a national past-time. Gym memberships rose. The belief that it was a good idea to do some exercise every day for general well-being became a quest to ward off all diseases. If we just ate the right foods, got the right amount of exercise, didn't smoke, didn't drink, and was conscious about nutrition, we SHOULD NOT GET SICK. EVER!!!

Of course, what that meant is that the poor souls who do get sick are suspected. Catch a cold, you didn't build up your immune system. Had an accident, you didn't stretch well or warm up in exercising. Contracted cancer, well it was obviously something you ate. Have a heart condition, your diet must be laden with, well depending upon who is speaking, too much fat, too little of the right kind of fat or if you eat correctly then it must be your Type A personality.

What started off as a system of promoting general well-being became a blame-the-victim game that has basically divided the population into haves and have-nots of health.

And of course, couple this with fat prejudice (as well as other kinds of prejudice) and a ready-made excuse for bigotry is woven into the culture. Believe that all fat people are lazy, ugly or dirty (the usual bigoted indictments of "other" groups), that's okay, you just care about their health.

This mechanism is, of course, not limited to fat people. Everyone with lung cancer is suspected of smoking. Everyone with AIDS is suspected of sexual "perversion." Liver disease means you must have drank too much. And so forth.

The new part of that rhetoric is "costs" -- almost daily someone somewhere publishes a report that shows how much the bad habits of others are costing everyone.

At the heart of this rhetoric lies two assumptions that need to be examined:

1. We have control of our health.
   
   
   


2. We are personally responsible for our own health and no one else's.

I believe that these two assumptions are patently false, though each with a grain of truth (as most lies need in order to be believable).

It is true that we have influence over our health and if we do things to excess (including exercising too much or restricting our food intake and obsessing over it too much), we will hurt our bodies in the long run and as we get older in the short run. But we do not control our health in full.

One of the original fitness gurus, Jack LaLanne died last week at the age of 96. He live a long and exceptional life, but the fact is he still died. He didn't die healthy. He died. Of course, a lot of people are pointing to LaLanne's life as an example, but I suspect that genetics played a bigger role in his longevity than his supporters would like to admit.

Jim Fixx was one of the thought leaders in the fitness craze of the 70s. He was a well-known runner. He died while running at the age of 52 from a heart attack. In truth, given that heart disease ran in his family and his father died in his early 40s, Fixx may have added some years and even quality to his life through his running. But he died young just the same.

The point is that there are a huge number of factors that determine health: some are under one's influence, most are not. To decide that Jack LaLanne had the superior fitness program over Jim Fixx is to pretend that we are masters of more than we have a right to claim.

Who cost the health care system more? Fixx died young, supposedly sparing us from his old age and the care he would need. LaLanne needed heart valve surgery at age 95. Was he a burden to the system because he prolonged his life until his valve needed care? These are absurd questions, but they are the kinds of questions to which the lifestyle think and victim blaming of current rhetoric lead us.

That leads to why the second assumption is also bogus, but with a grain of truth. We live in our bodies and in those bodies only we know what it feels like. We know our pain and we know our joy in ways that no one else, even our most intimate of lovers can really know. We do owe ourselves care and loving ourselves is, in part, about taking care of ourselves.

But health is not singular. The air we breathe we share. The water we drink we share. Every plant and animal that becomes our food is affected by that air and water as well. We share the planet with bugs. Some of those bugs do us good and some of those bugs under specific circumstances do us ill. We like to think of our bodies are singular, but in fact we have colonies of other creatures who share our body and some of those creatures like the bacteria that lives in our intestinal tracks are necessary for us to function. Where do we end and the bugs begin? Where do we end and the air begins? Where do we end and the water begins?

Carl Sagan once wrote, "We are star stuff." We are the elements and we will return to the elements. All matter does.

This inter-connectivity means that some health problems are better solved at a level different than the individual. Politics, pollution, climate, economics, personal relationships, stranger relationships, historical and sociological contexts affect our health and well-being.

We cannot calculate the cost of the contraction of disease without making some really big and fallacious assumptions. We are assuming that whatever condition or disease that is being examined is preventable and that the incident of that disease could have been prevented. This is always an estimate and it is always speculation.

Calculating the cost divides us and presents some of us as a burden to others of us.

And calculating the cost assumes a set price for our health that is never negotiable or questionable. Health "costs" do not occur spontaneously out of the mouth of some god somewhere. "Costs" are "charged" by people for services supposedly delivered to other people. Want to reduce costs? Charge less or pay less for medical services.

So how does Health at Every Size ℠help us with this understanding of health and the current lifestyle police mentality that essentially want to fault and make victims pay for their "crimes" against the healthy.

The Association for Size Diversity and Health offer 5 Principles of HAES℠:

1. Accepting and respecting the diversity of body shapes and sizes.
   
   
   


2. Recognizing that health and well-being are multi-dimensional and that they include physical, social, spiritual, occupational, emotional, and intellectual aspects.
   
   
   


3. Promoting all aspects of health and well-being for people of all sizes.
   
   
   


4. Promoting eating in a manner which balances individual nutritional needs, hunger, satiety, appetite, and pleasure.
   
   
   


5. Promoting individually appropriate, enjoyable, life-enhancing physical activity, rather than exercise that is focused on a goal of weight loss.

Accepting that people are diverse is a good beginning. Jim Fixx was a different person from Jack LaLanne. Both of these men were a different person from my great-grandfather who lived to be 99 years old, weighed 300 pounds when he died and probably never ran a mile in his life (though I'm quite sure he did his share of physical labor on the farm).

Personally I'm glad the world is full of diversity. I'm easily bored and without the wonderful diversity among us, it would be a really boring place.

Health and well-being are multidimensional and we sometimes choose one thing over another. I like playing poker. But I hate second-hand smoke. Even so-called non-smoking poker rooms are full of smoke because they are rarely cut off from the rest of the casino. I could not play daily, but I enjoy it enough to take the smoke every once in awhile. The exposure is limited but I know it is damaging just the same. Life is full of dimensions and complexities and no one can really draw a straight line of cause and effect with most health-related experiences.

The principles laid out are simple. They suggest that promoting well-being should be about acceptance not creating restrictive and constrictive rules that probably will not have the intended impact.

At the heart of these principles is a belief that all people deserve to be given a chance to show what they are made of -- all people deserve dignity.

The lifestyle policing and cost analyses come from a position of power and control. They are not about good health but about passing the burden on to someone else. They are about blame.

So perhaps you think that because you are average size or smaller this is not an issue for you. Well, the lifestyle think is what drives health care costs. Pre-existing conditions are a brainchild of this way of thinking. Dropping your insurance when you get sick is "only right" in a world where people are to blame for their illnesses. More and more companies are demanding fitness tests of their employees. Better not get too many colds because your boss might decide you ate too much candy or didn't work out enough and compromised your immune system. He will be able to fire you because you are costing the company too much in labor costs and insurance costs for having that cold.

The really sad part of this myopic view of health is that the real problems of pollution, poverty and daily stress are not being addressed. By ignoring the real problems we are making them bigger. You may be worrying about losing weight today, but ignore pollution and global warming and your children may be worried about how to find food for you in your old age.

Adopting a Health at Every Size℠ view of the world can contribute to a broader understanding of health and the major factors that contribute to health as well as creating a more just and sound basis for addressing those factors. Allowing fat people (or any group) to be scapegoated in the name of cost-cutting and blaming will open the door to anyone being blamed for their illness or disability.

First They came... - Pastor Martin Niemoller

First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists ,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

This month, I am participating in a ReVolution! -- Every Monday in January I plan to write a blog post here about my life and how Health at Every Size℠ has changed my life for better. This is the third installment of five.

HEALTH AT EVERY SIZE℠ AND GETTING OLDER


When I first decided in late 2000 to quit dieting once and for all, I was chronically ill with what I thought at the time was lupus (and have since learned was probably sub-clinical hypothyroidism). For the most part, these symptoms were chronic but not debilitating on a daily basis. I had flare-ups but had settled into routines that seemed to work. I had some sort of pain almost daily but usually dull pain and with regular exercise and eating good food and getting plenty of rest, I felt generally healthy.

I spent the first couple of years re-learning my hunger and satiation cues. I had dieted so much that I literally did not know when I was hungry or what my hunger felt like. In the past, I depended on outside cues to tell me when to eat and how much to eat. This was a process of mindful eating and, frankly, trial and error. I often waited too long at first, feeling ravenous when I finally sat down to eat and then finding I ate so fast that I was full long before I realized it. I slowed down my eating, learned to savor food and learned how to identify hunger before it was starvation.

In December 2002, I got pneumonia and became very weak. It was months before I could walk without gasping for air. I found a great program that started me working out in water with paddles and eventually I was doing 20 minutes on the treadmill and weight training in the gym. I became stronger and my metabolic health was excellent (blood pressure, blood sugar, cholesterol, pulse rate, etc.). AND I didn't lose weight or gain weight.

By the Spring of 2004, I felt the healthiest I had in years. I was still dealing with arthritic symptoms and flare-ups but not as often and not as severe. When we went on the road in The Ample Traveler, I felt good and maintained that feeling for some time. I turned 47 that summer.

It was easy to believe in Health at Every Size℠ under those conditions. When I wrote Taking Up Space with Carl, I was confident and had no doubt that this was a better way of living than the 30 years I spent fighting my body's natural tendency to be bigger.

I sprang my foot in 2004 and had nerve damage that left me walking with a cane, but even that didn't slow me down or shake my confidence. I had so much experience with chronic conditions at that point, that it became just one more thing to care for with my body--an annoyance, but my view of health had long since changed into an understanding of relative health rather than a set criteria. So I felt I was the healthiest I could be with chronic conditions.

Then I turned 50 and the "other biological clock" for women started. I became menopausal, I started having metabolic problems and I went through a rough period with Health at Every Size℠.

The same conditions that are supposedly connected to fatness are connected to aging, especially in women going through "the change." I began to doubt my choice to not diet and spent many days thinking through the whole process. I felt alone in some ways because I had fat-acceptance friends who were talking about how healthy they were and I knew I was not healthy. In fact, it felt like at the time that I was turning into the poster child for all the conditions that they were bragging they didn't have. For a while I kept quiet. I didn't write here and I didn't reach out. I didn't diet, but my reason for not trying to lose weight was that I was thoroughly convinced that it would not work, that I wouldn't lose any weight. I had been down that road and it made me sick and I didn't want to get any sicker. But I wasn't sure about the new road and whether I'd feel better.

I did reach out to some private groups eventually and I began to see that fat women who were going through menopause and who had type 2 diabetes and other metabolic problems were using HAES℠ to help them deal with their conditions. I started reading about these conditions and discovered that there were strong indications that the dieting I had done for 30 years as well as the aging process probably contributed to those conditions.

Let me be clear about another aspect of this. It didn't help that I had little access to health care due to no insurance and it didn't help that I am an underpaid teacher who has to work several jobs to supplement my income in order to be able to teach. Stress doesn't help. Stigma doesn't help. Fear doesn't help. Isolation doesn't help.

So about 2 years ago, upon realizing that many of my health problems, including the chronic conditions that started in 1997, were probably from hypothyroidism,I had another epiphany like the one I had in 2000. I had been misdiagnosed because of the societal and cultural attitudes about fat. In 1997, when I first got sick, I had chronic fatigue. I couldn't sleep well. I caught one infection after another. I was oversensitive to light and had rashes from exposure. I had an abnormal ANA count. I felt like I had the flu all the time with my joints and muscles aching. It wasn't hard to understand why the doctor thought it was arthritic and sent me to a rheumatologist, who, like most specialists, diagnosed me within her paradigm. Thus, lupus.

Except there was one symptom that I ignored and my doctors ignored: I gained 90 pounds in about 6 months. At the time, my paradigm and my doctors' paradigm was calories in/calories burned. I was eating less because I was too sick to eat much, but I went from someone who rode a bicycle everywhere she went (lived 3 miles from school, so at least 6 miles on school days, probably about 30 miles a week total) to someone who was bed-ridden. It seemed obvious that was the reason for the weight gain.

However, rapid weight gain is a symptom of hypothyroidism and no one even explored the possibility at the time. Hypothyroidism mimics lots of other conditions, especially so-called "check-box" conditions like lupus (positive diagnosis for lupus comes from presence of 4 out of 11 symptoms plus elimination of other possibilities).

So as I face an aging body, I've come to realize that my aging process is affected by several factors: hysterectomy (not ovaries) at age 38, untreated hypothyroidism, and years of yo-yo weight gain and pushing my metabolism and immune system to its limits.

In the past year, armed with this new understanding of HAES℠, one that doesn't depend upon me being perfectly healthy to demonstrate its effectiveness, I have become more pro-active in my health care.

First, I bought a wrist cuff to monitor my blood pressure. This has resulted in a significant reduction of my blood pressure meds and a personal realization that my blood pressure and pulse are heightened when I go to the doctor. I take my basal temperature in the morning to monitor the hypothyroidism. I check my blood sugar often. I am faithful in taking my medications and supplements, including menopausal support. I use assistive devices without hesitation because they improve my stamina and overall health.

And most importantly, I continue to practice intuitive eating and try to move my body as best I can. I do not diet. I do not weigh. I do not worry about my body size. The truth is that under thyroid treatment I think I may have lost a little weight (judging from how my clothes fit), but that is an effect of taking care of my thyroid and not intentional.

I am not the spring chicken I once was and I am angry that much of my health was taken from me by cultural standards and socialization that has made my aging more difficult. But the answer cannot lie in now buying into that thinking. I believe with all my heart that if I tried to lose weight now, I would make matters worse. I believe with all my heart that dieting is not good for the health. I believe with all my heart that I dieted my way into disability and early aging.

I believe with all my heart that if I had known and practiced Health at Every Size℠ when I was younger I would be a much healthier 50+ woman.

I tell my story often because I hope it serves as a lesson for others. I told Sarah on the podcast this week that I was excited to see so many young people involved with fat acceptance because they might be spared the years of dieting and the effects of that dieting.

I think that history will look back on this period as barbaric when it comes to dieting and weight loss. We have abundance and resources and instead of celebrating and sharing that abundance, we have created generations of people afraid of food, afraid of our own bodies.

I have come to realize how strong my body is. I have abused this body and fought this body for years and it perseveres and even improves with love and care. As I have researched what dieting does to a body, I have come to realize that I could be dead now from many of the things I did in the name of "getting more healthy."

So let me affirm, right here and right now, that I may not be the usual poster-girl for HAES℠, I should be, because HAES℠ has saved my life and has made me stronger. Health is relative and has a multitude of factors contributing to one's daily constitutions. But given what I've had to fight and what barriers I've faced and what damage I've staved off, I am healthy at my size.

Had a great time chatting with NotBlueAtAll this week and you can listen in through the magic of podcasting. We talked about THE book and the current project.

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It may be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies." -C.S. Lewis

The problem in the US right now is that our choices seemed to be limited to robber barons and omnipotent moral busybodies. How I long for a freer world rich with potential and multiplicities.

Just saw this ad on FaceBook. Really. This is what they want as a tagline? I give it a FAIL.

Ah, so many jokes...

So a lot has been said about being fat and having everyone in the world feel like they can give you health advice, but there is a flip side to this that drives me a little crazy as well. Because they believe my health is their business, they apparently also believe that their health is my business.


So today, in a computer lab, about 5 minutes after I met a woman (and was nice enough to give her a recommendation for getting her mother a mobility scooter and told her about how Modest Needs helped me get my scooter), I found myself having to be polite while she told me not only about all the weight she has lost and gave me the website for her doctor's herbal products, but as she described to me her symptoms, including vaginal itching. Really, you've known me for five minutes and you are going to tell me about THAT?!?!

There was a definite language/cultural barrier as well, so I was at a loss as to how to explain to her that I've written a book about fat acceptance and that I don't want to lose weight and so forth.

Just to really put a cherry on the proverbial sundae, she concluded her disclosure with the declaration that God had told her to tell me all this. So now I'm supposed to regard vaginal itching as a message from God.

I honestly had nothing to say at that point. I just smiled and nodded and wished I was any where else in the world and wondered what star was sitting in what house that made me attractive to all the nuts of the world today.

A couple of quick updates. First, because my mom has never had to take higher than 150mcg for her hypothyroidism, I kind of assumed that I was somewhere near a maximum dose. I have since discovered that I am not. So the most likely fix is that I need meds adjusted.

The other bit of good news is the doctor's office called and I can see the doctor tomorrow (Nov 5) instead of having to wait another week. It takes a bit for meds to kick in so the sooner I can up the dosage the sooner I'll know if it is going to be sufficient.

I'm very disappointed/frustrated that I haven't found the maximum replacement level for me yet. But again, I have a lot of hope that this may be a core problem and it is fixable.

Thanks to all both here and on FaceBook who have offered support. It really has helped. To all of you who are struggling/have struggled with this I feel the connection.

I have the distinct impression that in a fat neutral world, this would be something that gets more attention and treatment. But since everyone JUST KNOWS that all weight gain is due to the eating and exercise habits of the person, conditions like hypothyroidism that affect weight are ignored.

BTW, this works on the other end as well. I've known cancer survivors who are complimented to no end about their weight loss even though it is one of the earliest symptoms of some cancers. Sort of reminds me of the "beautiful illness" of consumption (tuberculosis) where 19th century people admired the glow this horrible disease gave to the skin.

In any case, I go to the doctor tomorrow and hopefully will find some balance. I'm so far behind in my work and I find the fatigue is frustrating, especially have sleeping 11 hours and taking a day off (which I essentially did yesterday). One day at a time seems to be the only way to handle it all for now.

I've been in denial for a while now and for my own sanity I need to say something out loud.

Since March of 1997, I've been sick to some degree or another. I don't think there has been a day that has gone by where I have not experienced pain to some degree though some days are better than others and some years have been better than others.

I'm tough. I don't like being sick. I don't like admitting I'm sick. I don't like thinking about being sick. A part of me thinks, even after 13 years, that I can beat this.

Being fat complicates this. Getting old complicates this.

This culture is full of misinformation and blame-the-victim mentality and even though I've spent a great deal of time learning how to deconstruct that misinformation, I, like the rest of us, have some of it living in my brain anyway.

Now I've found out that I may have been misdiagnosed and that I may still be under-treated.

In 1997, I got sick at a party that several other people got sick at as well. We don't know if we all caught a virus or if the food was bad. The other guests had gastric symptoms for about 24 hours. Three days later I was cramping severely and dehydrated from several days of vomiting and other gastric symptoms and had to go to the emergency room and put on an IV. I didn't get well. I've not been well since.

The rest of the year was a series of doctors visits, lab tests and various treatments that eventually got me back to functionality. I managed to make-up the incomplete work and go back to school and actually finished my MA and PhD faster than many of my cohort. But I remained sick.

My husband is probably the only person in the world who knows how sick I've been. He has been my fearless care-taker and protector. For this he is and will remain my hero.

But I am acutely aware that there is so much more that I could have done with that 13 years than I've managed to accomplish. There is so much more I want to do.

I thought I had lupus. I met the criteria. And the preliminary tests sent me to a rheumatologist. Like mechanics and engineers, doctors have a tendency to diagnose within their specialties. I now know that I probably should have went to and endocrinologist. I have come to believe that I've been suffering from hypothyroidism during these 13 years. The lab tests didn't start being positive until 3 years ago, but I've had symptoms for years. Symptoms that have been misinterpreted.

I've slowly been dosed upwards on thyroid medication since being put on it three years ago. I'm back to showing all the symptoms. I feel like I'm walking through jello mentally. I'm cold even when it's over 100 outside. My hair is falling out (this is my most vain loss -- I once had very thick hair and now I'm balding). I'm exhausted when I get up from 9 or 10 hours sleep, when I can sleep. I have what I call energy dumps, where it feels like all my energy leaves my body instantly. I sometimes have pulled over to the side of the road to "nap" because of these dumps. My skin is dry in weird places (like my eyebrows or my finger knuckles). I'm irritable and feel raw with emotions. I'm fighting off weird infections almost weekly. In October alone, I had cold sores in my mouth, a UTI, a boil, and a head cold. My teeth and gums are getting worse. In short, I feel like all systems in my body are falling apart.

Please don't respond to this by giving me dieting advice or the latest alternative treatment. I've researched and I am capable of figuring the terrain out for myself. I just need to say out loud the I'm suffering. There are things I know I could pursue but there is no money to do them. I'm stuck with low-cost health care and therefore specialists and alternative medicines are beyond my reach at the moment.

This is a vicious circle -- I am finding it hard to work and yet I need to work to make enough money to pay for the treatments I need to be able to work.

I'm tired of being sick and sick of being tired.

I will probably write more about this because in the past writing has been my lifeline. Maybe I shouldn't be so public with this but somehow it is more real to put it out here on the net than to keep in my personal journals. So here it is. This is where I am today.

I do want to keep the silver lining in mind, however. If indeed this is thyroid deficiency (or related endocrine issues like hypothalamus and/or adrenals), it is treatable. Lupus is not treatable in the sense of actually changing the disease state. It is going to take some time and testing and money, but there are plenty of people running around quite happily and quite healthfully with hypothyroidism. I resent that this went on for so long without realization of the problem, especially since I gained 100 pounds in 1997 and everyone, including me, but also including doctors who should have suspected something, just assumed it was because I went from riding a bike 20 miles a week to being bedridden. Subclinical hypothyroidism should have been obvious in retrospect. But now that it is obvious, there are treatments.

I go to the clinic on November 10 to get latest blood tests. Hopefully we can figure this out and I can get my life back. Now that would be wonderful.

9000 feet

The hills are alive
Yodeling to me
Alpine Slopes help me slide away
Maria sings in mind's eye and heart

8000 feet

Meadows green
with envy of Cathedral
Peak, shining white light
Pine scents fill nostrils and make eyes water

7000 feet

Desert yellow shining floor
Beneath silver ribbon road
Reminding all who see now
Of long ago ocean floor

6000 feet

Descent becomes dive
to bottom of sea,
Dropping like a stone, ears pop,
Braking hard against nature's forces




5000 feet

Ocean bottom in clear view
Desert heat rises to greet
Rushing wind drowns out
Memories of buzz saw and pine sap

4000 feet

Heat intensifies
Stirring memories of tests
Made nearby, not so long ago, scarring
Ocean bottom, desert beauty and civilization

3000 feet

Smell of new asphalt chases away
Last remaining pine freshness
Winds give way to trucks grinding
Nature fades. Saddened by Modernity.

Some other things are in the fire as well. So, at the very least I will be busy.

Where do I imagine myself on my 54th Birthday?

I've got irons in the fire. I really do. I've been busy with a bunch o different things. Practical things. Artsy things. Social things. Growing and Developing things. I am planting seeds and furiously, fiercely nurturing these seeds. But I'm not seeing any buds. No little bits of green popping out of the ground anywhere. I keep thinking something has to happen. But nothing is.

Okay. That's not really true. There are things that are happening and there are good signs.

But it isn't happening fast enough!

Call me crazy, but I have always had several voices in my head. A committee. This is probably why sociology appeals to me much more than psychology. I am a group and I need to know group dynamics just to know my own mind.

I have a sensible voice that tells me I must go to work, put in my time, draw my check. I have a traveler voice that hears the call of the open road and can't stand to stay still. I've lived in the apartment I'm in right now for close to 42 months and that may be the longest I've lived anywhere in my adult life. And it is a small apartment -- only about 400 sq ft for 2 people and a cat. My vagabond voice is screaming at me on a daily basis. "Time to pull up stakes! Time to move down the trail!" I have an artsy voice. I like to draw. I like to photograph. I like to write poetry. I like to video. I like the satisfaction of starting a project and finishing it and saying "I made that." I have an entrepreneur voice. It is akin to the practical me and to the artsy me, maybe a blend of both. It wants to start something important, life changing, world changing. I have a scared, little me that hates the world and wants to crawl into a corner and not come out. I have an intellectual voice that wants puzzles and mysteries and problems and challenges and grand scale barriers to solve and overcome. My intellectual voice wants adventure as much as my vagabond. Something new to chew on. Something to learn and say, "now I know." I have a social justice voice that sees what's wrong with the world and wants to make it right.

My committee is not happy with each other right now and I'm feeling blue today. I have a bunch of reasons for feeling blue because all my voices have opinions. It's probably just decompression mixed in with a little, tiny fear of the future.

I guess it's time to call a meeting and work all this out. Or it might just be time to go read a book and do the laundry. Not sure which. Stay tuned.