An open letter to the friends I've lost

One thing I've quickly realized is that blogging about my weight [loss] has my brain in overdrive thinking about how weight [gain] has affected so many aspects of my life along my 30-ish years. I got fat when I was 8 and I still remember how that felt. I remember the ridicule and mockery--and that was less often from kids than adults. I mention that because it explains the heaviness of its impact ever since.

I've certainly had my "screw it" years when I didn't care what people said or mocked--or so I thought. My constant analysis now makes me think I just buried my care rather than disposing of it. It's as if every counselor, psych professional, or "life coach" was onto something when they said journaling was important. It's definitely a way to lay out all the messy emotions right in front of your face--then you decide whether you're going to unpack and catalog them or light 'em on fire and pour another shot [I've tried both approaches]. 

Weighing heavily [pun most definitely intended] on my mind the last two weeks is the impact on friendships over the years. *DO. NOT. COME. AT. ME.* <--- necessary disclaimer before proceeding...

If I met you in this fat phase, we are all good. If I met you when I was (A) 150 pounds lighter or (B) in a fat phase before you saw me lose all the pounds, our friendship has likely suffered exponentially. Sadly, I didn't know I was doing damage in my relationships as I'm too self-centered to see outside my own perspective. 

When I got married and moved to OC, my depression was at its worst. I did NOT want to live there, I did not want to distance myself from the friends I had made over the years of partying and working in the bar, and I was involuntarily detoxing from an old life while not being accepted into a new community at all. As I started to spiral, I started to gain weight like I had as a child--eating for comfort, eating for boredom, eating out of spite, eating for reasons I don't understand [guess I should have journaled about it sooner]. At that point I was declining what few invitations I still received because, "I haven't seen them in months/years and I'm too fat to go deal with that shit now." I went into hiding. 

The only people I saw for YEARS were my coworkers because I had to. They saw me every day and saw me gain weight, but at least it wasn't all at once, right? If I went to see someone in OBKY or ran into them somewhere it was like I needed to pick them up off the floor. Now, I said don't come at me. I am NOT saying this is the fault of THEM, I'm saying this is how I perceived the interaction. My brain was telling me these people [any people] were judging me and making fun of me for the shambles I created. 

The most detrimental part of this is that I just didn't know I was ruining the relationships. If I were asked about anyone, I was quick to respond, "Oh my gosh! Yes! They've been one of my good friends for years." I still say that. Well, I did up until the last few weeks when I realized I don't really have any friends. Somewhere along the way I went from a "talk to you every single day and see you every night" friend to a "can't even make the top 400 on an invite list" ex-friend. 

I think I always thought of myself as that out-of-town friend you just aren't able to see much, but that doesn't mean I'm not a friend. It doesn't mean I stopped loving you, caring about you, and watching you live your glorious life on socials. It means my own demons kept me away while I silently cheered for you from the comfort of my nest. I'm sorry I broke us. I'm sorry if you ever felt I betrayed you or gave up on you or moved on to a different set of friends. I didn't do that. I retreated and withdrew and now I'm standing in wreckage I didn't even know I created.

I share all of this not only for the sake of processing and facing my emotions, but to also bring light to some of the indirect happenstances of poor health. Please don't be me. Please take an inventory of your own situations. Work through rather than shove aside anything that feels like a barrier to positive transitions and progress in your journey.

It's hard. It sucks. I kinda hate it. But... I don't wanna be broken. Neither do you. 

Okay, so I'm working the steps of mental health while I work the steps of weight loss with the intentions of not repeatedly cycling through the weight fluctuations. No more rinse and repeat here. 
I took my 7th injection today [that's 6 weeks down]. I took this pic at the one-month mark because I happened to be wearing the same thing. I wasn't sure I noticed anything in my day-to-day, but this was super beneficial to see! [If you don't see a difference, don't tell me. I'm kinda livin' on the high right now.]

SW: 324 life-crippling pounds
CW: 305 life-rebuilding pounds
GW: Life restoration

Bent. Not broken. 

Cheers, 
​Kalin

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