This is the third and final installment of my three-part blog post on Success. (Note: no loss this week, but I’m close.)

As I’ve talked about over the last couple of blog posts, I struggled a lot when I came home from my 2012 vacation to Mexico; I’d fought hard to lose over 60 pounds before going, including exercise, and I’d done a fair amount of mentally building myself up for the trip — only to be so disappointed by my own negative perceptions that I saw it as (illogically) good reason to stop the effort.

That’s hardly the first time I’ve been discouraged and fallen off — hell, who are we kidding? I jumped off that diet with both feet. It was no accident. I consciously never went back to making the effort, even though my logical brain knew, without a doubt, that the result would be weight gain. For me, it always is; that’s the nature of my body. I can’t eat what I want, bury my head in the sand, and delude myself into thinking I’ll just maintain at the weight I am. Like it or not, I will always pay the consequences for such actions.

I knew, during that vacation, that I was having problems accepting my limitations. In fact, I punished myself by not attempting to do things that I was later capable of at a higher weight. I deprived myself of experiences, as if I didn’t even deserve to try; I feared holding others back, because I knew my abilities were not equal to their abilities.

I pelted my own brain with those thoughts of failure for a week, so it was no surprise when I felt incredibly let down afterward and never went back on plan. This most recent vacation, I didn’t do that, but I still feared getting off that plane and facing life-after-vacation.

Perhaps that’s why I received the gift I did: a lovely woman who sat next to me on the plane from Cozumel and Houston. She was an absolutely fascinating seatmate; she’s a retired teacher, having taught for well over 40 years in the Houston area (and then substitute teaching after that), a world traveler, and a cancer survivor, to boot. I needed to hear her story, from battling cancer and her attitudes toward it, to the loss of her husband, to her memories of fleeing the 6 Day War in Tripoli in the 60’s. (Her husband was in the oil industry.)

But most of all, I needed to hear about her weight loss. She had lap band surgery a number of years ago and lost 160 pounds. Then, an issue developed with the band, and she had to have it removed; since then, she’s regained the weight, and like me, she’s in the process of relosing it. We spoke about the demons we face in weight loss; the issues that are unique to those of us that gain and lose huge amounts of weight. But regardless, we are both, in our ways, success stories.

She is, unfortunately, possibly facing fighting cancer again — and yet, she has an outwardly marvelous attitude; she has a life well-lived, and much to be proud of. I needed to hear this, too, as my oldest brother faces his final battles with prostate cancer, with with a lighthearted and accepting spirit that is not only a light to those of us who will ultimately survive him, but a lesson in facing life challenges.

I have a tendency to get wrapped up in my own brain, letting thoughts of how I win this battle with fat consume me. I have to remember, though, that it’s fat.

Fat, not cancer. The only terminal diagnosis resulting from being fat is in the toll it takes on my body otherwise, but unlike those I hold dear who face cancer, I need no other tools to overcome fat than what I was born with: intelligence and determination. The physical challenges I face from being fat are not permanent — unless I don’t face the challenge, in which case, I can succumb to things like diabetes and heart disease.

Don’t get me wrong. Facing metabolic issues is absolutely no picnic, but when you measure it up against the things that can truly rob you of your life, these are not insurmountable.

The only thing that stands between me and success — is me. And I’m determined to get out of my own way.