Mrs. Sorensen

My favorite elementary school teacher died on Sunday, but I found out today, so I keep wanting to say she died today. I remember her--she was the best teacher ever. She was also pretty seriously obese. I remember when it was a kid's birthday (we'd always bring in our favorite treat to share with the class for our birthdays) she'd get wild-eyed and excited and hungrily ask, "did you bring a treat?!!"

Despite never drinking, she was eventually diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. She lasted a long time. Like about a decade. I don't know if there was a family history of liver disease, or if her obesity contributed (it can, and she had some other obesity-related problems). But she wasn't old enough to die. 63 years old.

In her life and death I see my past and possible future. At times, as I try to lose weight, I feel like a drug addict who gets just a little bit of heroin a day, and just has to try to keep the cravings under control. Even on the "easy" days it is hard. It's not difficult to recognize when you are losing the day's battle with food, but it is sometimes hard to care. "I'm stressed out--I really need this." "I'm super hungry, I just don't know why" "I'll do better tomorrow and that will make up for it."
It's hard for me to contemplate a death hastened by obesity as a possible future, but the truth of the matter is that in my early 20s, I already weighed over 200lbs. I tired easily and had no self-esteem and my primary source of comfort and happiness was food. I know that, and yet it's still a daily struggle to put down the cheetos, to go for a walk, to choose an apple instead of chocolate. I see how my teacher's life was cut off short, and I think, "of COURSE it is worth the hard work." But it's hard to keep the vision.

I want to say that I will keep going down this hard path in memory of Mrs. Sorensen. But I can't. The lesson I keep learning again and again is that I am the only one who can make myself get healthy. I can't do it for anyone else. I have to do it for me. I have to do it because I want a life where I control my body instead of the other way around. Mrs. Sorensen is much more than a sad sign-post along the way, but if I'm going to keep moving I need to be the wind at my own back.

I love you Mrs. Sorensen. Thanks for the last, most important, lesson.