Tectonic plates, paradigm shifts, and self-discovery

I was thinking about Marybeth's recent book recommendation and her sense of the huge catalyst for inner and outer change that the duodenal switch and its aftermath have been for her. That, in turn, got me pondering (not for the first time) the similar kinds of changes I see recorded in the various posts to several DS forums and in a range of weight-loss blogs generally. The fact of the matter is, the DS -- and weight-loss surgery (WLS) generally -- can be right on up there with an 8.0 mega-earthquake in terms of its transformative power, and I'm not talking about physical changes only. Just as a quake can level a landscape so that it's unrecognizable, so WLS can totally transform one's physical self, particular if one started out as super-morbidly obese (SMO) -- but it can also rattle one's psyche and self-concept to the core so that the inner self is as unfamiliar as the newly sleek image in the mirror. And that can be a profoundly painful, shattering, and yes, ultimately rewarding experience -- but from my observation of others in the past year or so, it doesn't usually happen without a lot of upheaval and loss along the way.

I see this phenomenon happening most often (though not exclusively) among women who are 30-somethings -- more than in the 20-something crowd and more than in the 40+/crowd -- and I have a theory about that. A lot of women these days marry in their late 20s or early 30s, perhaps have children, and are in the thick of very active, challenging lives when they decide to have WLS (though as WLS becomes more widespread and available, the age of the typical WLS patient has dropped). If they chose a partner and had children when they were MO or SMO and their relationship to eating, food, and their weight had an emotional component (and frankly, I think folks are kidding themselves if they think they became MO or SMO simply because of a malfunctioning metabolism), some of their life choices up to the point of WLS may actually have been partially determined by coping strategies which they find no longer serve them well once they are no longer MO or SMO. They may have chosen a partner who suited a depressed or withdrawn MO or SMO self (no, not that all fat people are depressed -- I'm not trying to claim that, thanks!). Or they may not have been depressed or withdrawn at all -- they may simply have over-identified with their excess weight, allowed it to determine their self-concept in this weight-obsessed culture, and in fact not know who they truly are when they lose that weight.

Imagine how radically disorienting it must be not only to have one's physical appearance change dramatically, but to discover totally uncharted, unexplored emotional terrain within oneself at the same time! No wonder behaviors, emotions, and relationships morph, shiver, shake, and yes, sometimes crack under the strain.

Some of this goes on for women in their 20s, of course, and I see that, too -- but in general one's 20s are a period of change and evolution anyway, and women in their 20s may not have laid the same foundations in their lives yet that women in their 30s have; the earthquake, when it happens, may often have a less devastating though nevertheless profound impact. And certainly older women can experience a similar kind of physical and emotional tectonic shift that women in their 30s do -- but one's 40s, 50s, and 60s are often really unexpectedly rewarding years (try telling a youth-, body-, and fashion-obsessed American culture this!) , by which point women have often already discovered who they are and not only made peace with that self but learned to honor and respect it as well. In other words, the aftermath of WLS and the changes that occur are sometimes balanced by a self-knowledge that younger women may not have to the same degree to call upon and sustain them.

Now, as I think about these issues, I find myself surprisingly torn. I both envy some of the 30-somethings and am deeply grateful that I fall into the 40-something category that I describe. There's a level of such profound energy, change, and vitality in the lives and blogs of people like Sharon and Marybeth (to name only two of many out there -- I don't mean to neglect others) as they navigate through lives that are, yes, undergoing enormous upheaval but are also moving them toward wherever they need to be for who they are now. For them, the DS has been a catalyst of incalculable change, a deeply life- and self-altering experience. One of the 30-something people I admire most is Kim because she's real, she's grounded, and she knows who she is. She's undergone her own transformations with such grace and compassion, too. She's a wife, mother, and lawyer; she's now a runner, and who knows what else awaits her? I find her absolutely inspirational.

Me? I'm only 7 months out and so I'm still a newly hatched DSer and I could be wrong about this -- but I think that while my experience of the DS is and will continue to be profound (I'm so grateful for my improved health and the opportunities it gives me, and yes, I'm enjoying my improved appearance), it has not and does not act as a catalyzing force in reshaping my sense of self and identity. And in a way, I'm sorry about that -- I sort of want that same physical and psychical make-over that so many people experience, even as I realize that it can come at enormous cost.

However, I also realize that, for me, I already had that paradigm shift in identity in my 30s -- which is why, I suspect that the DS isn't going to back the same kind of emotional wallop for me that it does for some others. For me, the catalyst was my mother's death when I was 26 which in turn triggered, a year or two later, a radical break with my family, my sense of self, my history, and my view of the world. In the aftermath of my dawning awareness of the extent of the sexual abuse I'd suffered from ages 3-10 at the hands of my father, and the total silence surrounding it and an intergenerational history of sexual abuse in the extended family, I fell apart. Literally splintered into fragments, shards, little pieces of a human being. I spent 8 years gluing myself back together in therapy, choosing who I would and would not become, and then about 5 more years after that learning to live rather than survive. It was only then that the self I am now began to have a life of her own. It was, without a doubt, the most painful experience I've ever endured -- possibly worse than the actual abuse itself -- and most of the time I thought I would not survive. I didn't want to survive.

But now, having survived, I look at my experience with a certain amount of gratitude. For better or worse, I know who I am now, and I feel convinced that without that sense of self, I never would have opted for WLS in the first place or been able to navigate the personal challenges and changes it presents with as little trauma as I've encountered so far (knock wood!).

The term-defining, transformative experience of my 30s was something different, something horrifically painful, but like the DS, it's resulted in its own rewards.

Labels: Gratitude, Head-trips

Comments

[Sharon]

I bow down before you. You are brilliant, and I'm going to share this - maybe even with my mom ;)So glad to know you.

[Ezpy]

This is a great post Alison. I was thinking of writing something along these lines myself yesterday (but you did it so much better). It's been hard and sad reading about Sharon and MB's painful changes. And wondering why this hasn't happened to me (at least in terms of my marriage) and doesn't feel like its going to.Your blog entry suggests the answer I'd give for myself -- that I already went through my shifting and painful relationship changes in my late 20s with my first marriage ending. Anyway, wonderful bit of writing here my friend.

[Anonymous]

Excellent and thought-provoking post. I've also been worried about the potential changes, but feel much calmer having read your well-reasoned piece.Thanks.*S*