When I first lost half my body weight, I felt like a dump truck worths of glitter had been poured on me, in me and all around me. Life felt so different. I could see so much more beauty in the world and in myself. I felt like everything I touched and every step I took mattered more and left some of that shine behind. People noticed and wanted some of my magic everywhere. I went. I celebrated every win, felt proud of each accomplishment and radiated confidence like the surface of the sun. In the beginning, everything was new and shiny. It was easy to set new goals for myself and meet them. I’ve never suffered too much from lack of motivation or drive.
And now, it’s been over 10 years. It’s been over a decade of pushing myself, counting calories, running miles, pulling deadlifts, growing, changing, therapy, sharing my story and spreading glitter with every step. This girl is tired. How long can we push ourselves to become a better version. Is there a point where this model no longer accepts upgrades? In the time since I’ve lost weight, I’ve changed careers, survived a pandemic and wars, experienced TWO Trump presidencies, aged from my 30s to my 40s. I’ve lost friends to distance and death, gone to too many funerals and not enough weddings. I’ve run thousands of miles and lifted tens of thousands of pounds. And through it all, I’ve continued to focus on health and keep the promises I made to myself all those years ago. But there’s a part of me that’s ready for my next chapter. It’s time for this to be only PART of my story, not my entire monologue.
Lately, I’ve been cutting myself some slack. At first it felt awful to change my routines and give myself some rest. I’ve been running from who I was and I’ve been so determined to not slip back, that I haven’t been moving forward. I’ve been standing in one place, building the wall higher and higher, with race medals, protein shakes, self care podcasts and gym accomplishments, to block out my old self from existence. To keep me safe from the person I used to be. But that wall has blocked me from the sun; has shadowed me from blooming fully into the next stage of myself.
I’m starting to think it was never glitter that made me so special. Life never gifted me magic or a secret no one else could hear. Lots of things sparkle. Maybe the glitter was tears, falling from grief, of all the things I’d missed in my teens and 20s because I was overweight and insecure. For all the times I should have loved myself and my reflection. Tears for the person I was hiding underneath my cloak of protection. Tears for the deep depression I was in and the anxiety I didn’t understand. Tears of joy for all the new things I could do with my new body. Tears of happiness from starting down this path of finding out who I really am.
Maybe it was shards of glass that made me sparkle. Glass from the ceilings I had busted through to get healthy, shards of a glass cage I’d been held in for so long. Always watching others be happy, but never feeling it myself. Glass pieces from the mirror where I’d totally changed my reflection and shattered all expectations, including my own.
The thing about chasing goals and outrunning your past is, you never get peace with where you are. Maybe it’s time for some grace, some rest and a new bottle of glitter. Maybe it’s time to walk across those shards of glass, through the pool of tears, and see what’s next.
You are such a beautiful writer. I think the awareness and clarity that comes from self reflection is so foundational to us gliding into another chapter of our lives- you have clearly done (and keep doing) the internal work- it can only lead you to a life that feels very aligned with who you are now! 💕 you’re “next chapter” should include writing- just saying’