The road back to me. Part 1

Distant. A Constant Internal Dialogue. Negative. Angry. Stuck. Confused. Loved. Taken Care of. Validated. Blessed. Guided. A Daughter of God. 

These words describe the past six or seven months. I have prayed more, cried more, and loved myself more than I ever have. But, it’s a long story, so buckle up for a wild ride. 

On my birthday August 20th 2018, I had my third surgery on my right ankle. I’ve talked a little bit about that ankle a few times when I’ve discussed weight loss attempts in the past. But, to bring you up to speed if you haven’t heard the story, I was a young 19 year old dance minor in 2001 heading to meet my boyfriend to go boating when a lady in a white SUV ran a red light. I slammed on my brakes and t-boned her going 30 mph. My right ankle was obliterated, a compound fracture. I was rushed into the ambulance and after getting a priesthood blessing, I was rushed into surgery. At the time, I don’t remember being angry. It was hard, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t remember being mad. I was hurt physically and confused emotionally by the accident. I still remember thinking, “She didn’t even get out of her car to see if I was ok.” But, I moved on. It was just an “accident.”

That “accident” changed my life. I was forced to take a year off of college. But honestly, I was fine, and it was just a bump in the road. I soon got engaged and my fiancé was the most wonderful man in the whole world. I think the timing of getting married helped me deal with the accident. We were in love! We were getting married! A broken leg can’t stop me from being happy.  We waited until I was off my crutches to get married, and soon we were back at SUU getting our educations again.  I changed my major and minor because I obviously couldn’t dance anymore, but I felt like it was all going to be ok, and it has been. Everything has been ok. 

Over the next 15 years, I gained weight. We ate out a lot. I had four babies. I didn’t work out consistently. I made mistakes. I ate a lot. I celebrated with food. I got addicted to soda. I gained over 100 lbs in fact at my heaviest, I was nearly 140 lbs heavier than when I got married. That’s hard to admit.

I lost some here and there, I wrote about it here at All Things Thrifty even! I tried every diet in the book.

Keto, yes

Hypothyroidism, yes {treated with medication}

Dr mandated diets, yes

Counting Macros, yes

No sugars no starches, yes

Octavia, yes

Herbal Life, yes

Caveman Diet, yes

HCG, yes

Weight Watchers, yes

My fitness pal, yes

Atkins, yes

Phentermine, yes

Contrave, yes

South Beach, yes

Whole 30, yes

Intermittent Fasting, yes

Personal training, yes

Weight loss competitions, yes many

Accountability partners, yes

Gym memberships, yes

BLAH DIDY BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Honestly, it gets old being the “first person” people think about when they have a new program, new lifestyle, or new 6-week challenge they are doing. I get emails, facebook messages, Instagram DMs, text messages about my weight a lot. I want to say, “Yo, I’m aware, but it’s a touchy subject!”

But truth be told by 2017 I was too heavy to work out. My ankle could not handle the weight any longer. But, my ankle was deteriorating and my weight wasn’t the only reason. Obvisouly the accident was the MAIN reason. So after finally finding a gym that I was starting to love, my ankle started giving out. I was pounding that joint three times a week! But, in my head I was doing what I needed to do! And for the first time, I was taking things a little easy on myself. I was being more careful with incline and finally realizing that getting up at 5:30 am wasn’t for me! But, the 9:00 class was perfect, so I was making it a priority. I was getting healthy dang it! But my ankle had other ideas. I would be walking down the street and I would fall on my face because my ankle was in distress.

I ignored the signs for months. But, it soon was too bad to ignore.  I found myself with a significant limp and my right ankle was naturally rotating outward to avoid the pain.  Dan was worried about the limp. He noticed that I was starting to walk with my ankle pointed out.

As a result, I knew I had to get my ankle looked at. It was time to “take care of things the right way.” I was proud to finally find myself in a spot with the desire to work out. That had never happened to me before. But, I knew in order to work out, I needed to get my ankle fixed.  Basically I was finally willing to get the ankle fixed so that I could be active again. Plus, I didn’t have any babies that I needed to carry around anymore. So, I went to the orthopedic surgeon. 

The news wasn’t good. I cried like a baby in his exam room. 

Click here for the next part of the story! 

xoxo,

Brooke