Forgive the longevity of this post, but it gives a lot of details.

I have NEVER been small. I have a medium to large frame and have never been "thin" in my life but was VERY active as a kid. I played soccer and softball and was never home, always out playing with friends. When I was 12, my mother (single parent) suffered a debilitating stroke and I became the head of the household, for all intents and purposes. Not being able to get to my extracurricular activities, I had to drop them.

Because of her limited mobility, my mother had me do a lot of the shopping. Send a teenager shopping and what do you get? Junk, junk, and more junk. I weighed 145 lbs. my freshman year of high school (1989) and 155 by the time I graduated (1993), purely by staying active with marching band and theater and having an adolescent's metabolism. That increased to 165 by the time I was 19 (1994).

I had to fight, hard, to lose enough weight to pass the physical requirements to enlist in the US Navy. My recruiter would take me to workout three times a week and would push me to run laps and lift weights. We both knew I'd never make the weight cut, but if I could get my BMI down enough I could get a weight waiver. I entered basic training in January 1995 weighing 159 and came out in March 1995 at 155. It was only a four pound difference, but I was in the best shape I had been in my entire life. I felt good about myself and, for the first time, the depression I had been battling since adolescence was not a factor in my life.

That didn't last long, however, and within 6 months I had gained it back, with interest. By the time I left the service (1998) I weight in the neighborhood of 190 lbs. My depression had started to come back some, but was still subtle enough to hide.

I gave birth in January 2000 with several complications, including eclampsia, which resulted in a permanent diagnosis of hypertension. I was only 25 years old and I was already taking blood pressure medication. Postpartum depression hit me like a ton of bricks and food became a chief source of comfort. I knew it wasn't good for my health, but I really didn't care.

As I started to dig out of the funk I tried everything I could think of to drop weight. I tried liquid diets, protein diets, vegetarian diets, SlimFast, Jenny Craig, and even starving myself, but nothing seemed to work. I would lose a few here and there, but it always came back. Through the course of the next few years I added on 30+ more pounds.

By 2004 I had been diagnosed with a severely herniated disc in my lumbar and was effectively sedentary, which just packed on more pounds, creating an opportunity for depression to rear its head again. Out came the comfort food and in 2006 I had to have my gallbladder removed. The following year I was diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea.

In January 2010, I underwent a hysterectomy and bilateral oophorectomy. I'd go into detail, but by then I had started a blog and if you REALLY want details on that, you can go digging (tortugarachel.blogspot.com). My husband and I lost our health insurance in January 2011 but, thanks to the recommendation of a friend at church, we looked into and were approved for VA Health Coverage in May 2011.

I saw my first VA doctor on June 22, 2011 and was diagnosed as a diabetic. This meant having to go through several intensive dietary education courses at the VA hospital on how to eat as a diabetic and the importance of carb counting. I cut out all soft drinks and within a month had lost 30 pounds. That still only left me at 265.

I lost my best friend in August, leaving me with literally zero friends in my town with whom I could spend time. Depression decided it would like to be my bff again and it brought cookies with it... and cake... and pie... and brownies... you get the idea. By September 2011 I was hovering around 270 and I was informed that my herniated disc had progressed to an extrusion. In November I was informed that my lipids were high and I would need to look at cholesterol medication.

So, by the beginning of 2012, this is where I stood: 275 lbs, depressed, diabetes, extruded lumbar disc, gallbladder removed, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, infertile, lonely, menopause, obstructive sleep apnea, And the hole was only getting deeper with each passing day. In June of 2013, I tossed around the idea of bariatric surgery as an option for weight loss. I wasn't so sure, I mean, I only weighed between 260 and 290, depending on mood and season. Isn't that for people that are grossly overweight? I did a lot of research and realized that I was actually a poster candidate for it given my age, weight, and laundry list of co-morbidities.

I told my doctor I was interested in it and she warned me that it is a long and drawn out process that would took anywhere from 18 months to 3 years. The first thing I had to do was attend the VA's MOVE classes. These were once a week over a course of 8 weeks. Unfortunately, I got a job in the meantime that would not allow me to attend those classes and my consideration of bariatric went right out the window. Unless I could actively participate in a medically directed weight loss program, the VA wouldn't even consider me a candidate.

Due to other complications at that job, my depression came back with a raging vengeance. Literally everything else in my life was put on the sidelines while I dealt with it. I worked with a very compassionate and amazing therapist through the VA and my doctor got me set up with a program where every morning I would use a machine to check my blood pressure, learn about healthy lifestyles, and weigh in. This information would be sent to my doctor's nurse on a daily basis, where she would keep track of it and check in on me from time to time to see how I was doing.

Slowly... oh so slowly... I made my way back into the light. I worked from home doing tech support for a while. In July of this year, I got a new job that fits my eclectic skillset, it fits my social and professional needs. The people I work with are amazing and I couldn't ask for better coworkers. My depression was/is under control, my diabetes was being completely diet controlled, and my doctor and I agree that it is time to derail my rollercoaster and start chugging along on a new path.

Everyone at home, work, and church was, is, and continues to be totally supportive. I consider myself very lucky to have been able to have everything fall into place the way it did.