Losing Me

I used to think weight loss was about becoming someone new.
Smaller. Quieter. More acceptable.

But the truth is, I didn’t lose myself.
I found her.

I’ve lost half my body weight. I went from 230 pounds to 115. That number alone can sound dramatic, but it doesn’t tell the real story. The real story is what it feels like to live in my body now…and how different that feels from simply existing in it.

For the first time in my adult life, my body doesn’t feel like something I’m dragging behind me. It feels like home.

The Weight I Didn’t Know I Was Carrying

When I was heavier, the hardest part wasn’t the physical discomfort—though there was plenty of that. It was the constant mental load.

The calculations.
The hiding.
The planning around chairs, clothes, photos, mirrors.
The way I shrank emotionally while taking up more physical space.

I didn’t realize how much of my energy was being spent just coping until I no longer had to.

Losing weight didn’t make my life perfect. It hasn’t taken away my RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). But it removed a layer of friction I had grown so used to; I thought it was normal.

It wasn’t.

The Day I Almost Didn’t Start

I still remember the first time I walked into a gym and asked for help.

I was already nervous…heart racing, rehearsing what I would say, hoping I looked like I belonged there. Already feeling like a total whale compared to this pubescent twig of a girl working the front desk. She looked me up, then looked me down, paused, and reminded me that it was a one-year commitment.

Not asked.
Not explained.
Reminded.

I felt like she was saying, Are you sure you’re worth the investment? Are you sure you’ll ever even come back?

I didn’t say a word. I turned around, walked out, and ran to my car sobbing.

That moment stayed with me for a long time—not because of what she said, but because of how small it made me feel when I was already trying so stinking hard to be brave.

No woman should ever feel that way for wanting to take care of herself.

When the Goal Changed

Somewhere along the way, the goal stopped being about getting smaller.

At first, I won’t pretend it wasn’t. I wanted relief. From the physical strain, the exhaustion, the way my body felt like an obstacle instead of an ally.

But as I kept going, something shifted.

I started caring less about the scale and more about what my body could do.
I wanted to feel strong. Stable. Capable.

I noticed the first time I lifted something heavy without hesitation.
The first time I finished a workout and felt energized instead of depleted.
The first time I trusted my body to show up for me.

Strength replaced shame.
Capability replaced fear.

And that changed everything.

What It Actually Feels Like Now

It feels light…not just my body, but my mind.

I move without thinking about it.
I cross my legs.
I sit comfortably.
I walk into rooms without scanning for exits or comparisons.

My joints don’t ache the way they used to. My sleep is deeper. My breath comes easier. I feel strong instead of fragile.

But the biggest change?

I trust my body again.

I listen when it’s full. I respect when it’s tired. I nourish it because I care about it…not because I’m punishing it. I eat for fuel and work out for fun, for strength, for gains…not because I have to burn off that pizza to keep from feeling like a slob.

That relationship shift matters more than any number on a scale.

This Isn’t About Perfection

I want to be clear about something: this isn’t a “before and after” fairytale.

I didn’t become happier because I got smaller.
I got healthier because I stopped abandoning myself.

This journey wasn’t about willpower. It was about learning my body, honoring my limits, and letting go of the belief that suffering was required to be worthy.

And no, I don’t believe everyone needs to lose weight to be healthy or whole. Bodies are not a moral issue.

This is simply my story.

Why I’m Telling It

I don’t ever want another woman to walk into a gym—or a doctor’s office, or a fitting room, or a room full of mirrors, or a party—and feel like she has to earn the right to be there.

I want her to know she’s allowed to begin exactly as she is.

If you’re just starting, struggling, or wondering if it’s even worth it…I see you.

You don’t have to hate your body to change it.
You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to do it perfectly.

And you don’t have to lose “yourself” to feel better.

Sometimes, the most profound transformation isn’t becoming someone new—it’s shedding what was never truly you to begin with.

I didn’t lose me.

I found her—stronger, steadier, and finally on my own side.

☀️ Sunshine Says

If you do feel “less than” and need encouragement, please reach out.
You’re not alone.
There are people here who see you.