Two years ago this month, I shared a four-part series about losing 75 pounds.
I was proud. I had routine.
I had Scott.
Last July..almost to the day
everything shattered.
Grief didn’t just take my husband.
It took my habits. My health. My reason to care.
Lately, the mirror has been hard. But the lab results were harder.
So after a string of sobering doctor visits, I had to face it:
I’m not okay.
And I can’t keep going like this.
So I’m starting again..not with a grand plan, not to “bounce back,” and definitely not to inspire anyone.
Just to survive.
Just to not disappear.
I’m choosing one small, stubborn thing:
Drink the water.
Take the meds.
Say the truth out loud.
Show up again tomorrow.
That’s it.
No glow-up. No performance.
Just a line in the sand.
If you’re here, reading this, still trying..
pull up a chair. I’ll scoot over.
Two Julys. Same swing.
Left: 2022 — down 75 pounds, full of grit and goals.
Right: 2024 — grief-worn, glucose-wary, holding tight to what’s left.
I wish I could bottle her hope.
But I’m proud of today’s fight.
Even if all it looks like… is just showing up.
