honesty

Standing Back Up

The end of the year left me reflecting on 2025. Last spring, I started working out, improving my eating habits. I lost weight steadily for months…until the anniversary of my mom’s death. Then it was like I lost all direction, hope, or drive, and just couldn’t get it back. The downward spiral was rapid, out of control, and heartbreaking.

By now, I have gained back about half of what I lost. Guess I should chalk up 2025 as a failure, then, right?

Actually, no. Because while the last few months didn’t register much positive progress on the scale, I was frustrated and demanded answers. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why did I fall apart so disastrously, three years after my mom passed away? I knew I couldn’t stop it from happening again if I didn’t understand it.

Painful as it was, I forced myself to sit down with those dark clouds, to face them, to hold them, examine them from every angle. When it hurt, I didn’t pull away. I kept digging, pushing, prying.

It was like excising a wound. And it was long overdue. It wasn’t easy. It didn’t happen overnight. But it did finally happen: the difficult introspection I needed to finally stop letting my mother’s death tear me to pieces.

It’s hard to put into words. It’s also intensely personal. But I wanted to share at least this little bit, because I strongly believe that no change is significant or lasting without self-insight, self-awareness, and brutal honesty. Most people avoid that, to some degree, either partially or totally. But I knew that any effort I make will be tenuous at best until I put myself through that uncomfortable work.

I finished the year peacefully. Quietly. No drumrolls, fanfare, grand announcements. I was tired, but a good tired, like the exhausted but satisfied feeling after hiking a steep mountain and finally reaching the breathtaking view at the top.

Outwardly, maybe not much has changed at all. Inwardly? That’s a completely different story. The fog has cleared. The burden is off my shoulders. I have stood back up. And something tells me that his time, nothing is going to stop me, because I am finally and thankfully out of my own way.

Just Start

Sometimes, you just know when it’s time for a change. That time is today.

I started this blog what feels like a million years ago, as a weight loss and fitness journal. I drifted away from that, and in the process, I lost my support crew of other bloggers making their way along this same road. I decided it was time to rejoin them.

I want to be honest and open here. So I will admit that a huge part of my hesitancy to blog about my weight loss efforts has been insecurity, fear of failure, and not feeling quite sure that I can really do this. I mean, I have been battling my weight for years. Decades. If I was capable of winning this war, wouldn’t I have done it already?

But today I decided to take that chance. Here I am, ladies and gentlemen, with about 55 more pounds to lose, so this isn’t going to be a short or easy journey. It is what it is. I got myself here, and I need to get myself to where I want to be, simple as that.

I am going to start with a small goal today: just work out. Any workout. Anything. I don’t care if it’s five minutes, or if it’s simply skipping back and forth across our living room, as long as I commit to a workout and actually complete it. I can build on that. But in order to progress, I have to take that crucial first step, and that is the focus today: just start. Believe. Take a chance.

Anyone want to get this party started with me?

I am Ready

When I look at blog posts from years ago, I can’t help but notice the stark difference in my writing style. My older posts are much more open, candid. I wrote about anything and everything, and I didn’t hold back expressing how I felt about anything.

I don’t like that I slowly started to censor myself. Any form of silencing myself is very unappealing to me.

One topic I have been avoiding was deliberate, though.

Before my mom was taken to the hospital last fall, I was sooooo close to my goal weight. Tantalizingly close. So close I could already taste victory. I loved how I felt and how I looked, and the frequent compliments were certainly nice, too.

Worry, stress, endless phone calls with doctors and nurses, crack-of-dawn flights, and weekends at a hospital over 900 miles away were a dangerous recipe for inevitable exhaustion, both physical and mental. In the few moments I would have even been able to work out, it was by far the last thing on my mind.

Then, when she passed away, I gave up completely. I didn’t care what I ate. I didn’t give a damn about working out. I felt my clothes getting tighter, but I just shrugged, got bigger pants, and kept on. I didn’t like it, not even a little bit, but I also was nowhere near ready to face it or do anything about it yet.

I have been embarrassed by my weight gain. I have pondered using my blog to restart my get-healthy efforts, then repeatedly shied away from it. In reality, how damn silly is that? A 50+ pound weight gain is pretty obvious! People notice whether I talk about it or not.

So…let’s talk about it.

I found myself finally getting angry recently, but not about gaining the weight. I was getting pissed about putting myself down for it. My mother died, and I gained weight. Jeez, aren’t there worse things I could have done? All the horrible things people do to each other every day, without remorse, and here I am, kicking myself all over the place for a number on a scale. It’s time to put this where it belongs: something I need to address, for my own health and happiness, but certainly not something to continue to punish and berate myself about endlessly, which has done nothing but delay my willingness or motivation to start working on it.

A few comments on some of my posts reminded me that I am not the only one facing this struggle, and likely not the only one who could use a few blogging buddies in the same corner. Sharing my journey (yeah, I know “journey” is an overused word, but it feels right for this) might help more than me. Who knows, maybe I can inspire and motivate someone else to take better care of themselves, too. Maybe sharing my battles will help others see they are not alone in theirs.

Avoiding the topic has also let me avoid taking action, but doing nothing is just no longer acceptable. It’s not who I am. Giving up is not what I do.

I’ve had a nice, long break, but now it’s time to focus on my health and well-being and happiness. And it’s definitely time to stop punishing myself for grieving my mother and temporarily losing my way. Time to stop doubting myself. Time to stop feeling embarrassed for simply being human. Time to remember just who I am and what I can do when I am finally ready.