Invasion of the Heart Princess

When I had my heart surgery I said I wasn't a cardiac patient, I was a "heart princess." A cute moniker to help soften the blow of what I really was…somebody whose world completely changed….somebody who could have died. Now maybe that sounds melodramatic. But that is part of the problem. I haven't allowed myself to be melodramatic. Hiding behind Heart Princess I could pretend to be strong when I really felt like falling apart.

For the last six months I have been trying to deal with this Heart Princess person. Trying to integrate this person into who I was BS (before surgery) has been a difficult task for me. I have come to resent, hate and rebel against this "heart princess." She is no princess at all. She is a cold-hearted bitch and I hate her. I am so angry sometimes that I can't see straight. I didn't ask for this. I didn't deserve this. I was living my life, finally creating something that I felt proud of. I loved being a social worker, working with clients and even felt that I actually did some good. I was mom to two great kids and I seemed to not be totally messing that up. I was becoming a stronger runner everyday - running harder and farther every week and beginning to even think about running a half marathon. Like a cruel version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, this Heart Princess walked in the door and just decided - not just to take over- but to take away all that I had worked so hard for and left me a life I don't recognize.

No clearer is the change in me as evident then in the mirror. I am now officially fat. I am not talking about the uncomfortable bloat that you wake up to on Jan 2 after you've spent the entire holiday season eating everything INCLLUDING Aunt Martha's fruit cake. Or even the ramifications of running through the drive thru one too many times for lunch. And it is mostly definitely not the, "oh my GAWD I ate a piece of bread this week" from the Paris Hilton Crowd. This is serious. Lecture-from-doctors-serious. "You're heart can't handle all this weight" serious. I am three pounds away from my heaviest weight ever….which happened to be when I was PREGNANT.

I have never had a good relationship with food or my body. I know what it is like to wield food like a weapon, to withhold or binge on food to feel some small piece of power. I've used eating as a way to make myself feel better than the people around me. I've used it to make myself feel worse, and now I feel worse than I ever have Something has to change. NOW. And not just because the doctors say so, because Heart Princess and I can't live like this anymore. We need to integrate. For both our sakes. I never wanted to be a Heart Princess and she isn't going away. We are playing tug-of-war with each other and neither one of us I backing down. Being fat is the physical manifestation of everything that has changed since I've had open heart surgery: my inability to exercise, my not working and turning into a slug and using clothes to hide my weight… and my scar.

What is my step in the dance?


Dig my heels in. That is what I do. You tell me I can't do something, damn if I am not going to kick and scratch until I prove you wrong. So it made sense to me that the more I dug in, the more difficult it was to accept the interloper. She is not going away and the more I rant and rave and throw clothes around Anne Taylor and JJill that don't fit and scream about how fat I am the more she is going to dig her heels in and settle in for the long haul. So I began to ask myself the question I used to ask my clients "what is your step in the dance?" I realized that every piece of clothing I put on that pinched, was so tight it hurt, or that I used to cover up and hide my body fueled my resentment. I decided I needed to make her feel comfortable and not like an unwelcome guest at a party. You know, invite her to eat lunch at the cool kids' table. I was thinking about ways to do this yesterday driving around and it thought maybe some retail therapy might be in order. It would have to be different this time. I couldn't do it with resentment or anger bitching and moaning and feeling disgusting and like a total failure. I would have to let that all go. It was going to have to come from a place of acceptance. It was time to meet my heart princess where she was at, welcome her with open arms and tell her the same thing I needed to hear, "it is going to be okay. We can do this. This is not forever." So in the jean aisle at Old Navy I resolved to buy a pair of jeans that fit - that I felt comfortable in- without even looking at the size. I scooped up different cuts and sizes and kept reminding myself that this would not work if I got pissed off.

Five minutes later I was in the dressing room in the first pair of jeans that I have felt good in in the last six months. Slipping those jeans on and not struggling with the buttons felt like me giving my heart princess a big hug. I could hear both of us sigh in relief. In that moment we met each other halfway. We're in this together. WE can do this. Not just dealing with the weight issues but dealing with the whole trauma of having open heart surgery. Together we can deal with the many fears that have gotten us to this weight and get past them. Together.

Nobody has understood what it has been like, but in that moment in the dressing room in my new jeans that fit, I finally found somebody who did get it and while I was so very grateful to have finally found her, I was sad to think she had been here all along I had just been too busy fighting her to realize.

This doesn't mean I'm giving up or that I am accepting my weight. It is unhealthy and I need to change it, not for a size I want to wear, but because I don't want my weight to sabotage my new heart. I also need to give up searching from outside sources of understanding. It just isn't going to happen. I am going to have to provide myself with understanding and comfort and that is going to have to be enough. That and maybe a cute new pair of pumps. My feet have gotten fat too! :)