Starting over at 55

By Sarah

If someone had told me ten years ago that I would be single and lose a significant amount of weight in my fifties, I would have laughed.

I had been overweight for most of my adult life. Not too fat in my 20’s but steadily, year by year, stone by stone, I gained weight until I found myself carrying far more on my body than was healthy or comfortable. Like many women, I became skilled at ignoring it. I wore clothes that disguised it, avoided photographs when possible and convinced myself that I was simply getting older.

The truth was that I had stopped looking after myself long ago.

Then, at 55, my life changed.

My husband and I had been married for over thirty years. We had raised children together, built a home together and shared countless memories. Then one night, in front of the TV, without even sitting up, he told me he wanted something different. There was no-one else, he just wanted to travel the world while he was still fit enough to do it. He wanted adventure and freedom and he knew I’d hold him back so he was going to go without me. 

Actually I think he wanted to go without me.

I don’t share this to criticise him. We each have our own journey and he’s a good man who loved me while he could. He felt terrible leaving me but something inside him told him he had to do this because he wasn’t getting any younger and if he didn’t do it now … usual story. But there’s no denying that his decision left me totally and completely devastated, not least because I’d never actually lived on my own before.

For months I drifted through life in a fog of sadness and uncertainty. I felt rejected, frightened and completely lost. Looking back, I can see that I had spent so many years being someone’s wife, someone’s mother and someone else’s support system that I had forgotten how to be myself. I didn’t know who I was, I hated what I saw in the mirror, I had nobody to talk to and I felt lost and so, so alone.

One morning I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window. What struck me wasn’t my weight. It was the sadness in my face. There was nothing in my eyes. I looked empty and I felt empty. I realised there and then that I had a choice. I could allow this separation to define the rest of my life, or I could start over in a different story.

I didn’t have an inkling of where to start but I knew I had to do something. I felt so, so sorry for the woman in my reflection and I had to save her. 

After a great deal of reading and research, I decided to try a thing called intermittent fasting alongside a low-carbohydrate way of eating. It was called a ketogenic diet and everyone seemed to be doing it so I decided it must be a good thing. 

The first few weeks were difficult. Actually, I was irritable, in pain and crying most of the time. My eating habits had been with me for decades. Food had often been my comfort, my distraction and sometimes my reward, so it was difficult to walk past the goodies in the supermarket and not throw them into my trolley and lie to myself. Every time I did that (and it was often) I took whatever I’d thrown into the trolley out and thought about the woman in the shop window. She needed me more than I needed that treat.

Gradually things began to shift. I felt less hungry and irritable. My energy became more stable and I started being able to get more done. My brain seemed to clear relatively quickly but my body took a while to catch up.

The weight did not disappear overnight. In fact, there were weeks when the scales went up or barely moved. But month after month, the changes accumulated and I started to see the light in my eyes come back.

I started saying yes to things I would previously have avoided because I was married and didn’t really do much outside the home. I walked a bit more. I joined a walking group and made a couple of friends and started seeing them outside of the walking group. I found myself feeling lighter and brighter and one day actually laughed out loud and that was when I knew I’d overcome the worst. As my weight came off my confidence did get better but this was never really about my weight; it was about those sad, empty eyes in that reflection. I couldn’t live knowing she was inside me and so I made her my focus every day until she smiled – really smiles – back at me.

Another source of inspiration came from someone I had followed years earlier. Back in the Reach4Raw days I used to enjoy watching Cookie and how she smiled at just being alive. Life moved on and somehow I lost touch with that community but then, all these years later I discovered her again on YouTube. (I cannot tell you how pleased I was to see you again, Cookie!)

Seeing her continue to inspire and encourage others despite having been through quite daunting experiences reminded me that personal growth does not have an age limit. Her message resonates with me just as much in my fifties as it did years ago. Perhaps even more so now. When she smiles I see my own smile reflected in her face. Sometimes we need people who quietly demonstrate what is possible and do it in an imperfect manner. For me, she has been one of those people.

Today, I am healthier than I have been in many years, despite a few problems cropping up here and there. I move around more easily. My confidence has returned. My body feels better and my smile is genuine. I’m even in touch with my ex-husband as a friend and am proud of how he did something hard to release himself of a life that wasn’t fulfilling him. In a way he set me free too. I look forward to the future now, instead of fearing it.

At 55, I thought my best years might be behind me. I’m 6 1 now and although I don’t know exactly what the next chapter will bring, for the first time in a very long time, I’m excited to find out. And to be part of a community as it grows is going to be rather special. It feels like a wonderful place to be.