Now what?

Stone Mountain, NC.

Here we are in this weird little bit between Christmas and the New Year when we aren't sure what day it is, what time it is, when we go back to work, and what day the trash guy picks up. So much leads up to Christmas and the months of preparing and anticipating and then we hit the New Year and then...now what?

After having bariatric surgery in July of 2018, I hit my goal weight over the fall and am now successfully keeping it off and focusing on my health, not just the scale. I remember my surgeon telling me that the hardest part of post-surgery life would be to make sure I eat ENOUGH. I also remember laughing at him and thinking "ok, doc."

But, since then, my list of goals has been accomplished. Rode a roller coaster. Fit comfortably on an airplane to South Africa. Shopped at the Gap. Wore a medium t-shirt. Ran a half marathon. Drove by the McDonald's without stopping in the drive-thru. I can cross my legs comfortably. I can wrap a sweatshirt around my waist. I can sit on the ground and wrap my arms around my legs. I can hike 7 miles and still have energy. I can share clothes with people. All the things that most people maybe don't even think about, are the things that I never got to experience. And now I do!

Now what?

There is a strange moment in time when you hit a goal and everyone stops talking about how great and courageous and strong you are. I am in that strange moment. Days will pass now (maybe even weeks) between people asking me about my weight loss or commenting on how I look. I thought this lapse would bother me more than it does. The truth is...I am enjoying conversation not being about me so much anymore. I feel like I have missed out on everyone around me and their big things because I was knee deep in my big thing and fighting to crawl out of the hole I was in.

In the past, when I would hit weight loss milestones I would start to think that I had it under control and I would celebrate with a slice of pizza. Or some ice cream. Or fast food. But of course, the celebration is what got me into this trouble in the first place and I watched one cheeseburger turn into two and one donut turn into six. The weight comes back on, sometimes more than when we started and then that public victory turns into a quiet shame. Most of the weight loss blogs I have followed have gone dark for those same reasons. No one wants to blog about the quiet shame of weight gain - the admittance that I failed. Again. And I gained the weight back. Again.

Maybe you are in that strange moment with me. You just accomplished a goal. You just finished a race or a degree or a project. And you are wondering the same thing.

Now what?

Well, now...I am happy. That thing that kept me hiding (and I might say, in the closet) my whole life is no longer allowed to do that. The love of a beautiful woman, best friend, and partner, has shown me that it's time to turn around and focus on the world around me. That it's ok (and actually, quite incredible) to let people love me and, in turn, love them back whole heartedly.  Now, I am focusing on our family, our community, and our life together.

It is a strange moment when your real life outpaces your wildest dreams. But that's the weird little bit I am in right now and I am loving every single second. To not be alone on the holidays, to not use food as my source of comfort, to be a part of a family as an adult, and to experience the love that comes with partnership? I had no idea what I was missing!

I hope my story helps others. After all, isn't that the best we can all hope for? That we can help one another and pull each other through the struggle. If it's one thing I've learned through all of this - it's that we shouldn't try to climb mountains alone. And once we climb to the top together, celebrate. 

Always, always celebrate.

There is magic in the mundane.

Over the years, I have followed all these bloggers and writers on their wellness journeys. They do incredible things. They lose 150 pounds and go skydiving. They run a marathon and then decide to walk across America and write a book about it. They inspire and motivate and help the rest of us believe that anything is possible.

But after the skydiving and the weight loss and the marathon and the book, they have disappeared from my social media feeds. Most inspirational blogs (if not all), don't last because those big life-defining moments can't happen over and over again to one person.

This same thing has happened to me. I lost the weight, I rode the roller coaster, I ran the marathon, I fit in an airplane seat and flew to Africa, I came out as a gay Christian, and I fell in love. The newness has faded. People have stopped commenting on my inspiring weight loss every day. It's not often that people talk about my bravery anymore. I don't get to go to the doctor and see a 40 pound weight drop on the scale since my last visit.

Two at a time.

The honeymoon is over. But it has been replaced by something greater. My every day mundane is now so magical. Let me explain.

What is your favorite day of the year? Is it a holiday? Maybe Christmas? Every time this question comes up, my answer used to be "December 26th!" The day after Christmas was my favorite because it meant I survived another celebration of family and love and being together. Because I was alone, living states away from my family, and never had a family to be with on Christmas morning. When you're in your 40's and still the "youngest child" in the family, it never feels...right. I would go see my parents on Christmas, or stay here on Christmas. And when I would stay in town on Christmas, I would take my two dogs on a walk through the neighborhood. If it was Christmas Eve, I would walk past food smells and driveways filled with cars and picture windows with sparkling Christmas trees and presents and kids and festive sweaters. And if it was Christmas day, I would walk past trash bins filled with empty boxes and wrapping paper, and people hugging goodbye at their cars, and kids riding their new scooters up and down the street. And I would walk by, with my dogs, and watch the years fade away knowing that that would never be me. And I would go home, with my dogs, to a house with one car in the garage, an empty trash bin, and a lonely kitchen.

The newness of my last year has faded. And thank God that it has. The things in life that, if you have a family, may seem annoying and mundane to you, are magical to me. I fell in love this year. God has perfect timing, and it was only after I learned to love myself that God created space for me to be loved by the most amazing woman I have ever met. She lets me run errands with her. I get to go to Sam's Club and buy these giant packs of vitamin waters and oatmeal and snacks and cereal because there are four of us. (Sam's Club really isn't designed for living single!) She invites me to events at her school, she lets me into family life and sports practices and orthodontist's appointments and endless piles of laundry and a full dishwasher and family movie nights and first day of school pictures.

And Christmas. And by some divine intervention, she got me to love Christmas again. And not only Christmas. She got me to love Halloween, and the first day of spring, and birthdays, and weekends, and snow days, and traditions. Family traditions.

This year will be the first year of my life that I will decorate my own home for Christmas. And we will do it up big. Halloween too. And maybe also just random Tuesdays because...why not? When Julie and I went to South Africa earlier this month, we were struck by the fact that every animal we saw on our safari travelled with a partner. Elephants, Rhinocerous, hippos, zebras, penguins, elk, giraffes - all in two's. I think I did ok for 42 years traveling alone. But now that I am traveling with a partner, I see all the magic. Every little bit of it. Not only that, but we get to travel in a pack with kids as a foursome.

If that's not magical, I don't know what is.

So, how was your year?

Has it already been a year?

Man, time flies when you decide to change literally every area of your life all at once. But, if you know me, you might know that I don't do anything half way. And when it comes to life, I make no exception!

A year ago, July 11, 2018, was my duodenal switch surgery. I looked into surgery not knowing if I would actually go through with it. I went to all the classes, all the weigh-ins, all the doctor visits, therapy evaluations, sleep studies, and support groups. I sat in extra-wide chairs with arms with extra-wide people just like myself, and visited extra-wide restrooms with extra-wide toilet seats. Rex Bariatric sure knows how to keep us extra-wide people extra comfortable!

I remember looking around the room in every class I attended. I remember thinking "will they have surgery? Will they go through with it?" The nutritionists would stand up from the front and tell us that after surgery, you can't smoke. You can't drink alcohol. You can't eat fried foods. You can't eat a portion bigger than your palm. You can't drink out of a straw. You can't eat too fast. You can't eat anything before you eat protein. You can't drink anything when you're eating. You can't eat breads and pastas and pizzas and sandwiches and really, anything like you used to. You just can't. And I would watch the room as people rolled their eyes, crossed their arms, elbowed the person next to them sitting in their extra-wide chair and all the while I wondered "Will they go through with it? Wait, will I go through with it?"

So a year later, I am still carefully watching all my "you can'ts." I am still visiting my nutritionist and team of doctors regularly. I think about all the people that went through the pre-surgery classes with me and wonder if they went through with it. Even though there are a lot of "you can'ts" that I am paying attention to, this past year has been shaped by the "you cans." And this list is my unicorn. It is the things that I thought had escaped me in life and I would never experience. I reasoned it away for myself and convinced myself that God has other plans for me. That He wanted me to be alone to rely on Him only, and that my weight was my burden to bear. Little did I know that He had something in mind for me that was greater than anything I had ever dreamed of.

Liz Simpers' Great Big Unicorn List of You Can's (ahem....)

1. You can...fit into an airplane seat and put the arm rest down.
2. You can...shop at the mall. Any store you want. Even Forever 21. (but you would never because you're forever 43)
3. You can...sit in any chair you want. Or booth. Or stadium. Or baseball game. Or roller coaster. (but you would never again because you're rearranged insides hate being jostled around by every roller coaster ever invented. And most cars too.)
4. You can...wear name brand clothes.
5. You can...turn to people for comfort and not food.
6. You can...drive past the McDonald's and not stop at the drive-thru.
7. You can...reach over your shoulder to grab your seatbelt and, with the same hand, buckle it. (I bet that's one you've never thought of!)
8. You can...run a half marathon.
9. You can...ride a bike up and down your street.
10. You can...feel comfortable in a bathing suit.
11. You can...be outside in the summer and not sweat like you're in a sauna.
12. You can...cross your legs and sit comfortably.
13. You can...have a healthy relationship with food.
14. You can...be gay AND a christian, and be proud of both.
15. You can...have the courage to tell your friends and family that you are gay, always have been, and be accepted.
16. You can...finally address your health issues, learn to love yourself, and be ready to accept love.
17. You can...fall in love.
18. You can...go on family vacations and adventures and run errands and be in partnership.
19. You can...do anything you've ever wanted without fear of not fitting in.
20. You can...be a part of a family.

Today I am at my goal weight and 130 pounds lighter than I was a year ago. Today I see a new "you can" almost every day. I had no idea what post-surgery life would bring, but I was admittedly terrified to take that leap. But isn't amazing how God honors our faith in taking leaps by providing someone to catch us?

So yeah, my year was pretty great. Thanks for asking! May we all replace those "I can'ts" with "I cans" and watch how God shows up in our faithfulness. Amen?

I made goal weight!

This time last year, in May of 2018, I was in the initial stages of talking with nutritionists and therapists and doctors about weight loss surgery.

This time last year, I was about 318 pounds. This time last year, my doctor set my target weight loss goal to 185 pounds. I have had that number on a sticky note on my computer for over 8 years. I have always known that was my target weight for my height. I am a tall girl, after all. I have stared at that number almost daily for 8 years. I have wanted to erase it almost daily for eight years because at 318 pounds, that's impossible. That looks defeating and impossible.

This time last year, I was working out 4 times a week, I would consider myself active, but I was very much defeated and struggling with losing weight and gaining the weight back through the years of my life.

For all of us, especially women, we will never be satisfied with our weight. Or our wrinkles. Or our legs. Or our arms. Or hearing our own voice. Or how much we manage to get done in a day. For me, my struggle with weight has always been that obvious physical embarrassment that I could just never get right.

I still find myself getting a little embarrassed when people compliment me and ask how I did it. I still find myself wondering if people thing surgery is the easy way out, or that it's cheating, or that it's not the old fashioned, hard work way to lose weight. But then I remember what the past year has been like for me, and how hard I have fought for myself. How many times I ate one bite of the wrong food and have gotten very sick. How I get painfully tired on random afternoons on random days and struggle to be a human. How running a half marathon kicked my ass WAY harder than I imagined!

Today is a huge day. The scale doesn't get to define me anymore, but it does get to help me track progress. I weighed myself obsessively in the few months right after surgery because the pounds were dropping quickly. Stalls and fluctuations are part of the process, so I slowly stopped weighing myself so often. But today, today I had to check. And there it was.

184.6.

Getting below 200 pounds was a dream. But this day, this day is a victory. The girl that was 318 pounds and afraid of physical touch because of her body and wearing XXXL t-shirts and size 30 pants is now wearing M t-shirts and size 12 pants. Food doesn't get to be the only way I celebrate anymore, or commiserate anymore, or cheer myself up anymore, or relax anymore. God has blessed me indeed, and showed me what it means to accept love and affection and purpose and the big beautiful world that I now feel like I get to be a part of and fit into.

What a difference a year makes!

I can sit in a restaurant booth anywhere I want. I can put on a ropes course harness without worry. I don't have to ask what the weight limit is on a bicycle. I can sit in an airplane seat with the arms down. I can reach across my body to put on my seatbelt. I can cross my legs when I sit down. I can shop at any store I want and wear any clothes I want. And the list goes on and on and on.

In two days, I will be 43 years old. This time last year, I felt like life had passed me by, and I was meant to be alone and to accept my lot in life. It's amazing what shame can do to a person. It allowed me to get comfortable and used to a life that was never meant to be lived.

I will keep running. And I will keep fighting. And I will always be grateful and filled with wonder and excitement for what this new life has brought me. Finally addressing my biggest demon, my weight, allowed me to come out from behind my shame, accept love, and give love away. That 318 pound, big personality, lonely girl, is now in love and experiencing the life that I thought I could never have.

And for that, I will keep fighting.

What's your PR?

A "PR" in the wellness world means "Personal Record."

Last Sunday was my half marathon. Since I have never run a half marathon, I certainly set a PR. But as my friend Kirke most eloquently put it the morning of the race, this PR was "Personal Reason."

What was my PR?

I had intended to run this race alone. I have been training since October with that in mind. 95% of my training runs for the past 5 months have been alone. I was used to that, I found success in that, I became accustomed to that.

About a week before the race, my partner Julie said "I think we should run the half together." I immediately did the whole "thanks but no thanks" thing because, to be honest, I have always done things alone. I was used to that, I found success in that, I became accustomed to that.

You see, she is much faster than me. She has done half marathons before. LOTS of them. And full marathons before. She is a hare. I am a tortoise. So when we talked about it again, I still wasn't convinced.

Here is my PR: sure, I lost 125 pounds while training to run those 13 miles. But that's not it. I have faced the biggest beast that has made my world increasingly smaller. But that's not it. I had the courage to finally come out and tell my story to a world of peers that think being gay AND christian isn't a thing. But that's not it either.

My PR is that I don't have to run this race alone. Not this one, not the next one, not the metaphorical one, none of them.

I have had some amazing conversations with people since coming out. I have had friends that love Jesus tell me that their God doesn't accept my lifestyle, and I have had friends that love Jesus tell me how proud they are of me. I have had people tell me that watching me come out has given them courage to be more loving to the gay Christian community. I have had people tell me that we, as a society, are on a slippery slope where everything has become permissible and it has to stop.

Each conversation has been amazing because I have loved each one of those conversations individually. My friends are wrestling with what God truly believes about being a gay christian. And my story will be the only "arguing" I will ever have with them. My job is not to convince anyone of anything. My job is to try to love like

Jesus. And I can't do that alone.

So Julie and I ran those 13 miles. And it was hard. But the journey allowed me to reflect, be thankful, be emotional, and be ready for what's next. Together. Not alone. I cried when we started, and I cried when we finished. I can't believe we did it. I am so glad I checked my pride and accepted Julie's offer to run with me. She was smiling the entire time, so happy to be next to me. And to be honest, it looked effortless for her! But it was profound and meaningful, and as we crossed the finish, I knew it was just the beginning. For both of us.

Together. Not alone.

"I lost 125 pounds training for this race."

Race day t-shirt has been ordered! Shout out
to Custom Ink!

So, the half marathon I signed up for is this weekend. March 17th. I signed up back in September. And back in September, March felt like forever away. Back in September, I wasn't running at all. I was walking a lot, biking some, and that's about it. My body was two months out of surgery, but I felt ready to train for a 13 mile run that would happen in 6 months.

I started running. I am blessed to be surrounded by the accountability that you HAVE to have to make this happen. I mean when you work at the YMCA, and your job has a full gym downstairs from your office, and in fact encourages you to take time off during the day to work out, you sort of lose all excuses...

I just looked back at my training plan and over the course of those six months, I have run 137 miles. That's a lot of thinking time. And a lot of dreaming time. And a lot of thankful time.

I decided to make a funny t-shirt for the race on Sunday. Since it's St. Patrick's Day, I am having a green t-shirt made that says "I lost 125 pounds training for this race." I stared at that design on my computer today and thought about every pound. I tried to remember 318 pound me. I tried to remember what it felt like to run that first mile. I tried to remember all of it, because I never want to lose how thankful I am for the past six months.

The funny t-shirt design will serve its purpose and then some. I ran 5 miles today after being sick all last week. 125 pounds ago I could never imagine running 5 miles. Every one of the 137 miles I have run has meant the world to me. To watch my life completely change in the past six months is nothing short of miraculous. The weight loss surgery was the catalyst to me finally letting go of the fear of letting others in fully. I lost my "protective shell," but that shell kept out the bad AND the good. It never let people hug me, console me, be beside me, or even get to be near me.

5 miles today on my "short" run. Six months
ago, I would never believe this to be
something I could do!

The sermon at church this past weekend was about thankfulness. And how our thankfulness and joy should be loud. And public. And exciting. My partner and I are still going to church weekly, and we love it. We feel love there. Our experience has spurred on conversations greater and deeper than either of us imagined, and we feel that it is our purpose on this earth. To hold on to each other and let others know they are never alone.

On Sunday, my thankfulness will be loud. And public. And exciting. What a milestone and what a step in the biggest year of my life. And hey, if you are near the Tobacco Trail on Sunday around 9:30 am with nothing to do, I'll see you at the finish line. I'll be the one hobbling across it in a green t-shirt that says "I lost 125 pounds training for this race."

And I'll also be the one giving you a HUGE hug.

&

I ran 10 miles today. My brain was full,
and the time passed quickly. Side benefit
of overthinking everything in life?

I am 42 years old. For as long as I can remember, I have been told that being gay is a sin and I would have to choose my relationship with God, or my true identity. So for my whole adult life, I hid who I really was and never pursued a partnership with anyone. I chose God and denied my desire to share my life with someone.

When I had weight loss surgery in July of last year, I finally dealt with the one thing that had separated me from the rest of the world around me. I finally addressed the life long challenge that felt impossible to conquer. I realized I had no reason to hide anymore, that it would be terrifying to come out for all the reasons I remained hidden my whole life. What would my church friends say? What would my old Young Life friends say? What would my YMCA co-workers say?

I am a gay christian. I am gay, and I am a christian. And. Not or. I am wrestling with what the Old Testament says about me. I am wrestling with what the New Testament says about me. However, I am not wrestling with what Jesus says about me.

When I started telling my friends in July that I was gay, I was embraced with open arms. I got the classic responses of "DUH" and "what took you so long?" and "how long have you known?" to which I always answer "how long have you known you're straight?"

I had a wonderful coming out experience. Last week at the church I attend, the pastor gave a sermon on how same sex marriage is wrong, and if anyone in the congregation is struggling with a same sex relationship, they offer counseling to help people with that. I was at church with my partner, and the pastor's sermon only made me hold her hand tighter.

That church sermon was the only time I felt shamed since coming out. Therapy wouldn't turn me straight just like therapy wouldn't change my skin color or my gender. It is not a choice to be gay. No one would choose this life. It is lonely, and difficult, and heart breaking to think I have to be alone in order to honor God's call on my life. I hid for 42 years. I chose to hide for 42 years because I had well-meaning christian leaders that I trusted preach the same message I heard last week.

My partner and I are staying at this church. After the sermon this week, we had strangers come up to us and hug us, saying they were sorry for the message and that it doesn't represent the congregation. My partner talked to the pastor afterwards and let him know how offended and judged we felt, and that we didn't think he represented the views of the congregation. The pastor was kind, but had nothing to say.

This week at church, we walked in together holding hands. And we are staying at this church rather than choosing to run away because of the people in the congregation. The teenagers that might be struggling with their own sexuality, the older couple with a gay son or daughter wondering how to love them like Jesus does, the interracial couples that fear being judged themselves. We are staying because we love the people, love the message, and love the challenge.

I am a Christian. And I am gay. And I don't want to be ashamed of either of these parts of my life anymore. It's amazing what a little courage can do. And a lot of support.

And. Not or.