I spoke to my father today. He is an alcoholic. He quit drinking only months ago. I found out this week he was in the hospital for heart problems, a partially collapsed lung, and his skin cancer on his lip has returned. I’m sure these health issues are in direct relation to his alcoholism and smoking history.

I am sad about his health circumstances on many levels. He is my father. I have wonderful memories of him and I up to about the age of five or six, when he disappeared out of my life (POOF!) until I was seventeen.

I’ve heard about his wild party years, his bar brawls, his cross country trips on his motorcycle. I would always laugh, smile and wink at him when he told me about the good old days. Those were some fun and fantastic days for him, for sure! No cares in the world, a 24 hour party and always a woman willing to keep him company.

For me, those years weren’t so cheery. I struggled in school, I struggled with my sense of self and I struggled to understand why I was left behind without a father. My self worth – well there wasn’t much. My addictions to food began in those early childhood years – primarily because of his actions.

As I talked to my father today, I asked him if he had thought about joining an alcohol support group to ensure that he was with like minded individuals. I’ve often read that you have a higher success rate at beating your addictions if you have support. He told me he didn’t need that. He could “quit drinking anytime he wanted”.

We all know that is bullshit. He is a life long alcoholic and has quit and restarted too many times to count.

I told him I would always be here for him if he needed to talk if he felt the need to drink. And I meant it. Even though he has never been there for me, I still want to help. Some people call this stupidity. I call it the generosity of the human spirit. Don’t get me wrong, I am no doormat – but I am a loving person and I will help those I know if they need it.

Sometimes when I think of our relationship I feel like an empty shell. When I allow myself to remember the wonderful memories I shared with him as a child, I get very upset. It’s almost like that person does not exist or is merely a figment of my imagination. I’m not really sure if it was really me and him. Did those moments happen? I was happy once upon a time, right?

I’ve often refused to let myself feel many emotions because of these circumstances. I’ve often thought about how different my life would be today if he hadn’t been an alcoholic and my mother hadn’t divorced him and if he would have stayed in my life.

What if I was raised with a two parent household and had the support of a father figure in my life?

Would I have had more self confidence as a child?
Would I not have turned to food and actually allowed myself to feel emotions?
Would I have not been the chubby child in school and not been picked on?
Would I have been more of an extrovert and tried harder to make friends?
Would I have had friends to even say they were my friends?
You know, REAL friends that are always there with no strings attached?
Would I have stuck with basketball and volleyball after elementary school
and played throughout my school years and been successful?
Would I have had a parent that showed up at teacher's conferences to hear
how good I was doing?
Would I have had a parent that would have been there for me to set boundaries?
Would I have actually had a parent that gave a shit what I was doing and
wasn't busy working two and three jobs at a time?
Would anyone have even cared?
Would I have had high aspirations for myself and attended a good four year college?
What about getting a scholarship?
Would I have joined a sorority?
Would I have had the big wedding and reception I always wanted?
Who would I be without all of the hurt and all of the pain that I feel in
the pit of my gut?
Would I be the same person I am today?
Would I be struggling with my weight?
Would I be happy today?
......

There’s obviously no easy answers to any of this, but I can tell you that alcoholism is not a fucking joke. It destroys lives. It destroys families. It destroys little girls – like I once was.

I can’t live with the what if’s in my life any longer. I have to put that to rest. I have to live with who I am. I am a work in progress. I am a deserving person. I am worth it.

I struggle only a handful of days out of the year, and most days I come out on top. Often, I think of that happy little girl who loved her father and who enjoyed riding high on top of his shoulders and trips to pick strawberries from the patch. Then I think of the sad little girl who arrived after that. I just cannot reconcile the two.

So I keep on fighting the fight.

I’m not ashamed to be the person that I am today.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 11 years since we first met at the video store. Who would have guessed way back then that we’d be where we are now?

Me, an opinionated girl with something to prove.

You, a sweet guy with nothing to prove.

Us, well magic.

You’ve never made me feel bad about my weight or my circumstances. Through all of the pregnancies (three!) and at my largest weight of 300 lbs, I could always count on you to make me smile – even when I wasn’t feeling good about myself or my body.

Through all of the failed diet attempts – Atikins, Kimkins, Weight Watchers, diet pills, a stab at getting approved for gastric bypass – you supported me unquestionably.

When I started working out at the gym last Fall, you tagged along and supported me, asking ME for tips on how to lift the weights. Wow!

When I got on an outdoor running kick last Spring, but didn’t want to do it alone, guess who ran with me even though he hated it? YOU. You never once told me you hated doing it, even though you did. I figured that out on my own. You did it for ME.

When I told you I wanted to find a way to make a living by helping others and myself in the fitness realm, you told me YES, I could do it and it would be perfect for me. Never once did you laugh at me or tell me it was a crazy idea.

All of the hours spent blogging, video editing, commenting on other blogs – you never complained. Because you knew it was helping me.

I’ve always been able to count on you for support for everything that I do. EVERYTHING SINGLE THING.

When we found out Gavin was on the way – and it was surprise indeed! – you never faltered.

You’ve been the father that this girl never had. An amazing one to boot.

You played Mr. Mom to our youngest for two years while I worked full time on my career – and you enjoyed every single bit of it. She was only six weeks old when I took the job, but that made your bond with her all the more deep.

Eleven years ago, we spent some magical nights near Lake Michigan. Times I will never forget. Memories that will forever be etched in the sand dunes, near the life guard chair.

This picture, my favorite one I have of you, reminds me of how far we’ve come – and how far we’ll go.

I love you. Thank you for supporting me… And for well, being you.

There once was an addict that I knew. He was an alcoholic that had to drink at least a case of beer a day to function. He was conspicuously missing from most of my childhood, but would reappear at random times for no apparent reason. He was very charming and had the the type of personality that almost hypnotized you into liking him despite all of his many faults. He could tell some fantastic tails of bar room brawls and cross country travels, and while doing so make you believe every single word.

That addict is my father.

There once was an addict that I knew. She was a food addict that had to eat to maintain her feelings and to prevent herself from feeling any emotions in life. She was mysteriously missing from most of her childhood, but would reappear at random times when necessary. She was very sweet and outgoing, but her personality was inhibited by her food addiction, which lead to a dislike of herself. To keep herself numb and from experiencing life, she would also live vicariously through intriguing novels, which assisted her in never really having to get to know anyone in real life.

That addict is me.

For the first time in many, many months, last week I spoke to my father on the phone. He sounded different. At first I couldn’t place what the difference was. Then it hit me. He was sober!

I asked him, “Hey dad, how are you doing? You sound good.”

He said, “I’m doing real good. I stopped drinking the first of the year.”

At first I didn’t know how to respond to this. He had stopped drinking from time to time in the past and it had never lasted long. This time he was going on 7 months. That was miraculous in itself.

I said, “Dad, I’m so proud of you.”

There was no awkwardness or strange feelings tied to my response. I was and am truly happy for him. There was no regret in my tone, no ill-wishing towards him in my head, even though I probably am justified in both.

I realized how we are a lot alike in our respective addictions. Even though I am not an alcoholic and REFUSE to become one, I am a food addict. No matter how well I document my foods or portion sizes or how well I eat, I will deep down always be a food addict. I am probably a food addict primarily because of the choices my father made during my childhood.

There are many differences as well. I like to think that the differences between us are what makes my personal world turn. In each turn, I am given new life lessons that I can learn and grow from.

I no longer let the addictions of others dictate my life or my own personal dependencies.

I no longer blame the ghosts of the past for how I react or feed myself.

Do you know an addict? Are you one?

We had a great holiday this year… Mostly did absolutely NOTHING. Didn’t fight the crowds at the public fireworks, didn’t go hit the many beaches within walking distance, but rather floated around in our pool for most of the 4th. It had to have been in the 90′s this weekend. Hot, hot, hot!

The kids had fun too. My middle son loves to soak everyone with his new gun. Of course, I wonder why I bought it. I’m the one that usually gets nailed.

One plus is that I finally broke down and got a new bathing suit. It’s nice to be down three sizes from the old one.

Hmmm… A fair skinned freckled girl just can’t catch a break. Notice that I DID apply sunscreen (this time), but apparently not very well as I got considerably burned in strange places. But at least I’m smiling and have more freckles! :D

When it got dark enough, the kids were ready for some small-time home lit fireworks.

It wasn’t “A Capitol Fourth” or anything, but they really had fun.

Sparklers are always a big hit, even though I have mini-heart attacks worrying they will light themselves on fire.

Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t had kids, if I had never struggled with my weight or if I had selected a different life path.

All of these things are intertwined considerably and led to each other in many ways.

I know there are things to come that will be exciting and unexpected and maybe I’ll change my mind on various beliefs, but one thing I do know is I am a blessed individual and I thank the powers that be for my lot in life as often as I can. I’ve learned so much on this journey and look forward to the many new life lessons that are waiting for me.

How did you spend your 4th? What lessons have you learned recently?

Wednesday evening I had the lovely pleasure of heading to Mackinaw City to have dinner with some relatives that were up from Kentucky. That involved my mom riding with us on the way over… Which means I’m captive to absolute battiness for an hour there and an hour back. Lucky me, huh?

Here’s where we ate, the Dixie Saloon. Pretty good food.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, it’s just that we’re two very different people. The biggest thing that divides us lately is our choices in weight loss. Some of you may remember me blogging about my mom in the past.

My mom’s experiences on prepackaged diets
My mom on the diet pill phentermine
My mom buying me “Instant Arm Lift” for my birthday – FOR REAL

Since my mom knows I’m blogging about my journey and that this is my life now, the subject of weight loss ALWAYS comes up.

My mom: “You know that girl Debbie that lives down the road from me?”
Me: “No. Debbie who?”
My mom: “You know, the one that works at the hospital.”
Me: “I have no idea who you are talking about.”
My mom: “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that she got that LAP BAND surgery done! And her insurance paid for it all!”
Me: “Good for her.”
My mom: “Yes, she’s very excited.”
Me: “I hope she’ll still be excited when she realizes she hasn’t solved the mental issues that turned her into a fat ass in the first place.”
My mom: [ no response ]

Then a little while later, I decided to ask her about her diet pills. It looked like she had put on some weight and I was curious what the deal was.

Me: “Are you still on those diet pills?”
My mom: “No… ”
Me: “Why? Doctor decided not to refill your script?”
My mom: “No, I have a script I haven’t filled yet actually. It’s just that they stop working after awhile and I have to keep increasing the dose to feel an affect.”
Me: “Hmmm…” (Doing my best to keep my mouth shut.)

On the way back from dinner, we were discussing how large most of the family is on her side.

My mom: “It’s just those Bickel genes. We cannot win.” (Bickel is her family name.)
Me: “Why does everyone blame the Bickel genes? Why don’t they stop shoving food in their mouths and get off of their asses?
My mom: [ no response ]

I am sure that lap band surgery and diet pills work. I’m not sure it’s a long term remedy for most people. I’d love to see some stats on their effectiveness.

Do you know anyone that has used methods such as these to achieve weight loss?
Do you have a relative like my mom in your family?