By: Clare Pattison

I've been watching.  I've been waiting.  And today I saw the first geese of spring.  At first it was just one, then a few, then came a few more, then a big flock of them honking away as they headed north for the summer.  It marks a very special day for me in my weight loss journey.

Six months ago I sat right here at this same desk crying.  I had had my weight loss surgery not quite two months earlier and had lost 44 pounds since my first appointments with my medical team.  The day before, I had fit onto our garden tractor for the very first time.  I was coming to the realization that perhaps after being huge my whole life something else WAS actually possible, maybe for real this time.  I thought that maybe if I could fit on the garden tractor, I might also be able to drive our truck and our bobcat one day, fit in a bathroom stall, even put on my own socks.  These might not seem like much, but they all represent being "normal." For the first time, I had a tiny glimmer of hope that I, too, could be "normal." The tears were like a dam bursting or a wall crumbling.  Something inside of me that had been building up for a very long time broke open that day.

As I sat crying, huge flocks of geese flew over - heading south for the winter.  The sky was dark with them, the sound was deafening.  It was awe-inspiring.  And right then and there, I knew that by the time they came back in the spring, I would be so much further down my path to what I was beginning to realize was recovery.  Today is that day. 

Last week my scale told me that I had lost 100 pounds.  One Hundred Pounds.  I can't lift 100 pounds.  I can't carry 100 pounds.  Yet I did for years and years.  And now it's gone.  While I still have a ways to go, I'm now "normal." I can buy clothes in ordinary stores.  I can tie my own shoes.  I can scratch my own back.  I can fit into normal chairs.  I can do up a normal seat belt.  I can walk up a flight of stairs.  I can do things that "normal" people do.

But I didn't actually lose 100 pounds.  I just lost one pound.  One pound at a time.  That's the way it went on, and that's the way it had to come off.  I focused on one at a time.  Each pound gone was a victory.  Like the geese today, first there was one, then a few, then a few more, then a big flock of them.  So one pound became five, and five became ten, and ten became 30 and like the sky full of geese, it was awe-inspiring.  It was amazing.  I felt so surrounded by grace, so grateful for my lap band, my medical team, my family and friends, and for the blessing of a second chance at life.

Last fall, the spring seemed so far away.  The long, hard, dark winter lay ahead.  The cold and snow would have to be endured.  But I knew with absolute certainty that spring would come, that those geese would return.  And sitting here that day, I also somehow knew that I would make it through on my own journey.  That it would be long and hard and sometimes dark, and that there would be obstacles and difficulties that would have to be endured, but that in the end, I would make it.  I can't tell you how I knew.  Call it hope.  Call it trust.  Call it faith.  Whatever it was, it was as strong as it was real.  I had finally decided to change my life and it was going to happen. 

 
Clare Pattison

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