depression – Josephine Moon

Many people have been commenting on and asking me about my weight loss. People in town in the shops I regularly visit. People who haven’t seen me for a while. Friends who’ve noticed things changing in the photos that I post to Instagram or Facebook. And they have a lot of questions. The funny thing is that I have been losing weight steadily for 7 years now but people have only recently begun to get whiplash when they see me.

Essentially, they want to know how I lost the weight. So, I’ve written a comprehensive answer, because it’s not been an easy question to respond to in one line while standing in the checkout queue at IGA.

For me, it’s not terribly interesting that I have shed weight; the far more interesting question is about how the extra weight got there in the first place. I think people probably have a narrow judgement about that, presuming it was from too much food, lack of exercise and a sedentary job. The more interesting answer, though, is that at no time have I consciously changed my diet (either while gaining weight or while losing it), nor have I ever embarked on a new exercise routine to lose weight. Nope, none of that.

I am someone who experienced two miserable, painful, crushing years of disordered eating and, once through it and out the other side, I have never once allowed myself to manipulate food or exercise for any specific weight-related purpose. I cannot do it. I will not do it. It’s like being a recovered addict, I guess. I simply cannot ever go back to anything that resembles food/exercise control, portion sizes, calorie counting, weigh-ins, tape measures or anything like that. For me, diet culture and weight fixation is triggering and deeply uncomfortable. I am always interested in a loved one’s health, of course, but not the perseveration over ‘weight’.

Okay, back to me. What has actually happened? (You can scroll to the bottom for the TLDR section if you don’t like details.)

Well, this goes back a long way (more than thirty years), back to when I was fifteen. That was the year my autoimmune disease began. It’s called ankylosing spondylitis. Like all autoimmune conditions, it’s rather nasty. Its aim is to “remodel” my spine, which means: damage it, break it down, inflame it, fuse it where it shouldn’t be fused, grow bits where there shouldn’t be bits, cause terrible sciatica, fuse the sacroiliac joints… and for kicks and giggles it expands its territory to include other joints and soft tissues as well. Because medical ‘experts’ used to believe that women didn’t get ankylosing spondylitis (gosh… that gender prejudice is an exhausting and repetitive tale of medical woe), I was dismissed. I was gaslighted by doctors for years, told I must simply be depressed, signed up for thousands of dollars of ‘essential wellness’ tools, or told by new age healers that I had chosen this for myself and only I could make the choice to be well.

Sigh…

Then, at forty years of age, a good (female) GP referred me to a different (female) rheumatologist who quickly realised what was going on. Scans were ordered and by now, the damage to my spine from a quarter of a century of this rampantly unchecked autoimmune disease was so irrefutable that I finally received a correct diagnosis and, importantly, the correct medication.

You see, because I had never been diagnosed correctly, over the decades, I had been given all manner of pain modulating medication which, you guessed it, made me put on loads of weight. One of those medications took me four months to wean myself from due to the horrendous withdrawal side effects. It was a nightmare.

Now, The Too-Long-Don’t-Read (TLDR) Summary of My 30kg Weight Loss Story

I had a serious auto-immune condition that started when I was 15 but I was misdiagnosed for 25 years.
In those 25 years, I required more and more pain medication to control the damage that was being done to my spine and body. These medications made me put on weight, made me dopey and sleepy and messed with my brain.
At 40 years of age, I finally got the correct diagnosis and importantly the correct medication. This (practically magical) fortnightly injection does not make me put on weight and it improves my spine function and mobility so I can be naturally more active.
When I stopped taking the wrong medication, I began to lose weight, with no specific intention (because I refuse to ever again be controlled by thoughts of weight and weight loss). I lost roughly a 1kg a month consistently for over a year.
Interestingly, for a while after discovering I am neurodivergent, I lost more weight (again, at about 1kg a month) for some time. I have no explanation for this but (half) jokingly refer to it as my ‘Autistic weight loss’, perhaps the result of shedding decades of pain and shame from not knowing my true self. You never know…
Things got twisty again last year when, for several months, I lost my appetite and couldn’t look at food and felt like I had morning sickness all the time and generally just felt I couldn’t cope. I was also hysterically thirsty (I literally couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t swallow!) and exhausted and I was dropping weight. I had tests to rule out diabetes, iron deficiency and liver function, which were all normal. Both myself and and the GP put it down to the side effects from having started ADHD medication. But we were wrong.
When I saw a different GP about these symptoms (as I was worried no one was taking them seriously enough), she suggested trialling low-dose hormone therapy… and just like magic, all those symptoms went away.
I have been eating as usual now since December last year (I no longer feel sick and am not ridiculously thirsty) and my weight has been stable for months now.

That’s it in a nutshell.

You asked… I’ve answered.

Jo X

(P.S. I have deliberately not provided before and after pics because, as stated, that kind of culture makes me feel queasy and triggers parts of me I’d rather not invoke.)

Three years ago, my life was very different.

This photo recently came up on my Facebook page and it floored me. I was speechless, with my mouth actually hanging open as I stared at it. And because this week, it was R U OK day here in Australia, I thought I’d talk about why it had such an effect on me.

R U OK day is about suicide prevention, specifically, about asking us to engage with the people around us with meaningful conversations about life and how we feel about it. I don’t normally write posts like this, but this image, randomly generated by Facebook in a ‘your memories from three years ago’ way, moved me.

This is not me in the photo, it my Friend, holding my son, then three-months old. I remember that day; I remember it so clearly. I remember where we were, what we talked about, the things we said, the anger and sadness and grief we vented, and also the hope we held that the light at the end of the tunnel we were in must surely be coming.

This baby was everything and he was wonderful and I wanted everything to be perfect for him. But right on this day of this photo, I was living in an isolated town with a newborn. I had post-natal depression. I had post-traumatic stress from a birth that went badly and a litany of physical problems for myself and my baby (and what seemed like endless medical appointments and all-day trips from the country to the city) that followed. I had insane levels of sleep deprivation (quite seriously, in hindsight, I should never have been on the road, let alone driving the highway as much as we were). My husband and I had just received notice that an enormous mobile phone tower was to be built right next to our house, something we found very distressing. (We lived on six acres and our neighbour had over 100 acres but still the tower would be right outside our lounge room window.) I was in the middle of a soul-destroying, heartbreaking, messy, bitter breakdown and breakup of relationships with several women I had considered to be close friends. I was losing a significant business/life calling I had created from scratch (my first ‘baby’, with my identity all over it). I was gutted. My heart was in pieces. My world was falling apart.

And of course, I was trying to keep it together so that no one could tell how much pain I was in, especially the women with whom I was ‘breaking up’ and especially from my precious baby. I couldn’t possibly be vulnerable… I had to be strong!

As for my Friend, her life was in a very dark place as well. I won’t speak of her troubles as they are hers to share with the world if she wishes. But they were even greater, and more difficult, and more life-changing than what I was going through. I was so worried about her that day. I could see the stress and the trauma all over her face and body.

But we had tea (and hot chips and probably some cake). Many cups of tea. And we talked for hours while we sipped that tea, and I fed the baby, and we rocked the baby to sleep, and we talked some more. We could be vulnerable in that space. We were each other’s life preservers that day, holding each other’s heads above water for a bit longer so that help could come to us eventually. We trusted Light would come to us somehow. That it had to get better. It just had to.

So the other day, Facebook pulled out this photo and this sea of emotions from the technological ether washed over me. I was viscerally shocked. Why? Because my life is completely different now. And so is my Friend’s. Our lives couldn’t possibly be any more opposite than what they were that day.

And I think this is important to note: neither of us could see it coming. Neither of us could have predicted it. Neither of us had a plan.

All we were doing was getting through each hour of each day, trusting, hoping, trusting, listening, drinking tea and trusting some more.

And it happened. Now, we are both living our dream lives. Three years on.

I have my dream career that I’d worked so hard for and wonderful publishers I am blessed to call my friends. I have published three books in three years, all of them best-sellers, two of them internationally so, and I have contracts for two more. The success of these books has paid for the renovations on the seriously rundown house we took a huge chance on buying. Yes, we moved house and re-located to acreage on the Sunshine Coast, with all of our horses, which had been my childhood dream. My husband’s business has gone from strength to strength, as has our health and our level of joy, creativity and connections to wonderful people. We are happy, every day.

Now, I’m not saying the past three years hasn’t been the most intense and frantic of my life. But I could never have imagined this life on that day three years ago. So I’m thinking you don’t always need to be able to see the Light on the other side. You don’t always need a plan. You don’t always have to know the answer. I think we just need to keep talking to our friends and family, and drinking tea and hugging and laughing and crying and be able to borrow their strength when we don’t have enough for ourselves.

Sometimes, just drinking tea with your best mate (or mum, or neighbour, or aunt, or pastor, or your kid’s teacher) might be all you need to make it through the day. And you only need to make it through this day. If you look too far ahead it gets scary. So just get through this day. And take on tomorrow with fresh eyes.

Wishing you love.

The Light will come. It always does.