Day 183. 126 pounds down. Halfway through the year. Fourth of July weekend. And I’m still here.
Two pounds this week might not sound like much, but Wednesday night, I stood in a dressing room mirror that told a different story—I’m still shrinking, still changing, still becoming. No panic here.
Earlier today, while cleaning the house, I thought back to those first few weeks in January. I knew I was on a mission, even back then. But if I’m honest, part of me doubted I’d make it this far. Six months ahead felt impossible. Six days ahead felt shaky. That’s why I stopped thinking long-term and started focusing on just one day at a time. It’s the only thing that’s ever brought me peace.
We waste so much energy worrying about things that never happen. When I focus on just today, I stay in control. I make better choices. I’ve learned to live inside of time and patience—two things I used to run from. I’m not naturally patient. In a world obsessed with immediacy, I was wired for urgency. But healing doesn’t follow those rules. And God has been teaching me the slow way is often the most powerful.
January was my Declaration of Independence. I wasn’t going to be a prisoner in my own body anymore. I had paid the tax in tears, shame, and silence. It was time to take my f-ing life back. I’ve kept that promise.
The Fourth of July has always been a big deal in my family. We fly the red, white, and blue every year. But now, those colors mean something new. Red stands for hardiness—the fight. White, for purity and intention—even if I’m far from perfect, my motives have always been honest. Blue is for perseverance. And that one? That one I feel in my bones.
I’m not innocent, but I’ve been honest. I’m not invincible, but I keep showing up. I’m commuting over 900 miles a week. The gym has become a second job. There are days when I’m so exhausted I want to cry. But I don’t quit. I persevere.
This is what real freedom feels like.
If you want something bad enough, you’ll fight for it. You’ll tell people to kiss your butt. You’ll sacrifice. You’ll miss out. You’ll feel lonely. And yes—some days, you’ll want to give up. But then you ask yourself: what would my life look like if I didn’t fight for it? What would this country look like if no one had?
We hide our true colors too often. We bury the brightest parts of ourselves just to fit in. But maybe the things we hide are exactly what the world needs. The silly, the soft, the fierce, the flawed—those parts matter.
I’m learning to fly my colors again. To stop apologizing for the parts of me that don’t make sense to everyone else. I’m learning to show up exactly as I am—and let that be enough.
This weekend, I hope you think about your own colors. What do you stand for? What have you been hiding? And are you ready to fly your flag—boldly, loudly, without shame?
Don’t just celebrate freedom. Be it. Live it. Fight for it.
Amen
Amen sister!!