Looking Back at the Last 10 Years
About ten years ago, my weight started creeping up. At first, it was slow—just a little here and there. But eventually, it became a steady climb. I found myself 112 pounds heavier than the weight I used to hover around. That number felt impossible to carry—not just physically, but mentally too.
I kept trying to get back to what I considered my “normal,” but nothing worked. I cycled through diets I had tried before—things that maybe gave me results in the past—but nothing stuck. I couldn’t follow through. And worse, they didn’t help. Not in the long run.
Injuries added another layer. At one point, my movement became so restricted that any real workouts felt out of reach. Even when I mentally wanted to try, the pain was louder than my determination. It stopped me in my tracks.
More Than Just a Number
Every journey, especially one involving weight and health, is full of layers. For me, it hasn’t just been about the number on the scale. It’s been about identity, limitation, grief, and having to accept that the old ways no longer work.
I’ve had to come to terms with this:
My new weight loss journey isn’t about “getting back” to something. It’s about figuring out how to move forward—realistically and gently.
I can’t live on restriction anymore. I’ve hit a point of mental exhaustion.
I can’t just go outside and run a few miles like I used to. In fact, walking even half a mile can leave me hurting.
But—I can still participate in a 5K with my family every few months. I can still move, even if it’s slower and needs more recovery. That counts for something.
Where I Am Today
I’m 41 years old. I’ve entered the beginning stages of perimenopause. My body feels unfamiliar to me—like it changed when I wasn’t looking, and now I’m trying to figure out how to live in it.
My “new normal” is about learning myself from the inside out:
- Noticing what triggers my eating habits
- Figuring out how to create healthier patterns without overhauling every single part of my life
- Focusing on rebuilding strength—especially in my core, back, and hips
- Reminding myself that my legs are still strong, even if they’re not where they used to be
Walking and running again at regular intervals is a dream I quietly carry. I never realized how much I loved running until I couldn’t do it anymore. Losing it felt like losing a part of me—but instead of letting it stay gone, I’m slowly working toward getting a piece of it back.
Giving Myself Grace
This is one of the biggest things I’ve had to learn.
When I fall short of my goals, I don’t need to tear myself apart. I can choose to look at what I am doing:
- What I’m capable of right now
- How far I’ve come in small, steady steps
- The wins I might’ve overlooked if I was only focused on the end result
It’s still a battle most days. But after ten years of trying and failing, I can honestly say this:
For the first time, in April 2025—I’m seeing real progress.
The kind that lasts.
The kind that feels like me—not someone else’s plan or pace.
A Path That’s Still Unfolding
Will this path shift again? Of course. Life changes. Pain flares up. Some weeks feel harder than others.
But I pray I keep moving forward, even in the smallest ways. I’m chasing sustainability—not perfection.
Some days, balance will feel impossible.
But that doesn’t mean I stop. It just means I look for the little things that help. I keep moving. I keep building strength and mobility. I keep taking it one piece at a time.
Not perfectly.
Not quickly.
But truthfully.
For the One Starting Over (Again)
If you’ve felt like your weight loss journey keeps starting over—know you’re not alone. This isn’t my before-and-after story. It’s my middle. And I’m still walking through it.
We don’t need a perfect timeline to make progress.
We just need to keep going.
