Nine months. That’s how long it’s been since surgery. And somehow, I’m still here. Still showing up. Still trying to make sense of everything. But I don’t see myself as different. I don’t see the weight loss. I know logically that I’ve lost 135 pounds, but when I look in the mirror, I still see the same 300-pound body staring back at me.
I’ve spent hours curating recipes, scouring the internet for healthy alternatives to my favorite foods, modifying them to be VSG- and bariatric-friendly. I’ve taken meals I used to love and broken them down, rebuilt them into something I can eat without guilt. Food isn’t just fuel—it’s a puzzle I have to figure out every single day.
I’m running now. Moving. Exercising all the time. But I don’t feel smaller. I don’t feel like I’m in a different body. My brain hasn’t caught up, and I don’t know when—or if—it ever will.
But beyond the weight loss, beyond the numbers, I’m still struggling. Grief hasn’t lessened. If anything, it feels heavier in some ways. I’m trying to find balance—between meal prep, school, being a mom, working toward graduation, exercising, and not completely falling apart. Some days, I manage. Some days, I don’t.
I don’t know what I expected at this point. Some magical moment where everything would click? Where I would finally feel like the person I’m supposed to be? If that was supposed to happen, I’m still waiting.
What I do know is that I’m doing the best I can.
- I make my meals, even when I don’t feel like eating.
- I move my body, even when I just want to curl up and disappear.
- I keep going, even when grief tries to pull me under.
This journey isn’t just about numbers on a scale. It’s about unlearning decades of habits, rewiring my brain to see myself as I am instead of how I used to be. And right now, that part is the hardest.
I’m still grieving. That hasn’t changed. But I’m also still showing up. For my son. For school. For myself.
Balancing it all is exhausting. Some days I feel like I’m managing it, and some days I don’t. But I refuse to stop. I refuse to let this be another thing that breaks me.
Honestly? I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out. But for now, I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing—one meal, one workout, one step at a time.
If you’re in this place too—stuck between who you were and who you’re becoming—I see you. We just keep going.
