July, 2011
My name is Rachel, and I am a 42 year old single woman who is fat, sick, and nearly dead. I wasn't always this way. My weight gain started in my late 20s, picked up speed, and has left me in my current poor health at 5' 2" and 255 lbs. According to my old Omron body fat analyzer, this is a BMI of approximately 47%. This characterizes me at morbidly obese, and possibly even in a newly suggested category of SUPER obese (not to be confused with Super Man). I was once healthy, energetic, and in spite of my slowly increasing mass, active. But now, my size has made much of what I enjoy difficult, if not impossible. It has ravaged my body, mind, and life. This blog is about a journey - a journey back to health and a life worth living.
I currently am unemployed and on disability for depression. My career, health, and enjoyment of life have been ravaged by unhealthy eating habits and the resulting obesity and poor health I suffer from now.
Before my poor health brought me low, I worked in the environmental field as a wetland scientist for a large environmental consulting agency and also as a conservation administrator for local government. The work was physically demanding, and as my weight spiraled out of control, it became increasingly difficult to comfortably manage the highly physical aspects of my job as a wetland scientist. Being a field scientist, I spent long hours on most days hiking through forest, field and swamp, up and down rocky hills, off trails, through brambles, water, and mud. This was enjoyable and challenging, and even though I was still overweight while doing this work, the physical activity involved was enough to keep me out of the category of obese, and it was also enough to keep me in denial about my poor eating habits and weight problem.
I changed jobs and started work as a Conservation Agent for a town government. This work was still physically demanding but not on the regular basis as my previous work with the environmental consulting agency. There was much more desk work with the occasional field visit. Most field visits were not very strenuous, some required hiking for hours through forest and swamp, hiking up and down steep slopes. Because this position involved more sedentary office work, and my eating habits had not changed, my weight quickly spiraled into the category of morbidly obese. It affected my work. I was slow in the field, and prone to injury, especially to my ankles. I have sprained my ankles so often now, that I have lost count. I had lost my stamina and suffered heat sickness and fatigue in the field, needing frequent breaks. This was discouraging, and outright embarrassing when doing site inspections with others. I had no excuse. I also did not have the strength to change my eating habits, even though I knew it was seriously affecting my job as well as how my colleagues and the others I worked with, saw me.
The job as a conservation agent is not only physically demanding, it is also psychologically demanding. Politics in the local realm can be as vicious as on the federal level. Incoming Town Managers (or mayors, depending on the form of local government) sometimes have hit lists. They may want to clean house, to change the administration as it were. Towards the end of my time in local government, the political aspects of my position went from a gentle simmer to a rolling boil, to a pressure cooker. I was under attack. And I ate. I ate, I ate, I ate. I ate when I was angry, when I was frustrated, when I was anxious, when I was nervous, when I was upset, when I was under a deadline. Any negative emotion had me running for a bag of chips, a pizza, a box of sugary cereal. I ate to comfort, and as the stress increased, my decreasing health made it that much more difficult for me to handle the situation. I eventually caved under the stress, and spiraled into a deep depression. I have always been prone to bouts of depression, but could manage them. This one brought me crumbling down. I could not function. I couldn't get my basic tasks completed. I knew what was happening, and I knew I had to go. I resigned from my position, rather than give the Town manager the pleasure of not renewing my contract. I did not know if this was going to happen, but this Town Manager had gone through the town like Death with it's scythe, "failing" to renew one contract after another. In town politics, this is essentially the same as being fired. It just looks nicer. I watched several of my colleagues, in the Town Clerk's office, the Planning Department, the Department of Public Works, the Building Department, Accounting Department - fall to her desire to rearrange the Town administration to her liking. I knew my time was coming. I did not want to give her the pleasure of cutting me down. I fell on my own sword, at the time of my own choosing.
I resigned my job in a state of deep depression. Three years later, my life is in tatters. I am unemployed, my chosen career is offtrack, and I continue to struggle with depression. I struggle financially and live in poverty. The most basic things are great luxuries to me. I cannot afford to go to the movies. I cannot afford the gas to drive to the ocean, even though I live in the Ocean State (Rhode Island). I feel rich when I have a full tank of gas in my car.
This is who I am now. But this is who I will not remain. This blog is about how I got here, and about my journey back to health. I do not know what to expect on this journey. I do know I will have setbacks - but I will also have success.
I hope that by writing honestly and bravely about my experiences, I can help others that are also suffering. Perhaps your life has also been derailed by a fork and knife. There IS hope. I believe that. I must.