While my weight loss has been more like a roller coaster than a nice, clean slant on a graph, one thing has been true ever since my start date: the beginning of the new year finds me up in weight and having to get back in the groove.

I’d bet the bank I’m not alone, here.

While I’m not in the situation of just having to start a weight loss program, I do have to master it before it explodes on me. That’s what I’ve been working on, this week: getting control of my eating, being realistic about what I need to be doing over the months to come to be back in weight loss mode, making sure I’m doing the right things in order to be successful.

Patience is a virtue. Or something.

Success is rarely accidental. No, it’s more like a juggling act, and sometimes you have to juggle chainsaws to make things work out right. Other times, things are surprisingly easy — so easy that you just know you’re doing something wrong.

The one consistent truth to success is that it takes work. Sure, there are some lucky souls who can drop weight easily and quickly, but they’re the exception to the rule; the rest of us are the rule, and then some.

That’s what I struggle with during the holidays. I get in a mindset where I’d like to have a few treats, knowing full well I’ll pay for it and accepting that it’ll take some time to get the effects of those treats off my hips and out of my system. But that’s a dangerous game; if you allow yourself treats and you’re in the wrong mindset, you just might never go back to embracing the necessary discipline to master weight loss. I am determined to keep that from happening to me, as it has happened so many times in the past.

At the risk of yet another metaphor, it’s a tightrope walk, but the more experience you have, the less likely you are to fall off. That’s where I’m at; the first few days back totally on plan, my body wants to go back to the treats and my stomach fights me, but things get a little bit easier each day I’m fully back in command.

The same is true if you’re just starting your journey — the first days are absolutely the hardest, and they often come with only slim rewards. Success takes planning, determination, a willingness to change, and being absolutely truthful with yourself.

If you’re taking your first steps right now, stay strong. Forget your long term goals for now; promise yourself this day, this meal choice, this moment, and take it to the limit.

It’s Friday — tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. The time of year when people make lots of resolutions, including changing their lifestyles to be healthier in the new year.

I see the new year as a fresh start to lots of things; I’ve been working on a novel and I plan on moving on to the next stage of development with the new year. There are some things I’d like to do around my house. I want to attain some personal achievements in my business. And, like so many others, I want control of my health in the new year, which includes my weight.

I can’t bear the thought of this puppy, walking alone! Who wants to walk?

Yes, around the holidays, I have my treats, and I end up feeling bloated and a bit angry with myself for the deviations. We’ve also had some particular stresses just this past week, and while I don’t consider myself a stress eater, I admit that I’ve had some lusts for foods I know I shouldn’t fulfill.

What, you, too? You’re not alone, you know. If you happened here because you’re looking for encouragement in the new year but you’re feeling like the job ahead of you is insurmountable, please be reassured that it’s not. Start small, if you must. I am living proof that the small changes add up to big changes over time — and you can be, too.

Let me suggest Jack Canfield’s “Rule of Five”. Simply put, it’s the commitment to do five things a day to move you closer to your goal. In his book The Success Principles, Canfield used the illustration given him by teacher Ron Scolastico, who offered them the analogy of a lumberjack cutting down a tree.

If you would go every day to a very large tree and take five swings at it with a very sharp axe, eventually, no matter how large the tree, it would have to come down.

No task is insurmountable if you dedicate yourself to constantly do things that move you closer to your goal — even the smallest of things, starting today. In my case, I work to achieve five things every day, and then some — but those five core things I do include getting enough sleep, drinking enough water, moving more, eating within my plan, and the big one: keeping my head in the right place. When I do those things, I find myself moving down my path. Sometimes the steps are tiny ones and it seems like I’m going nowhere; sometimes they are surprising leaps.

My five things may not be your five things. My goals may not be your goals. You may not achieve everything you set out to do every single day. You may fail at times; in fact, it’s just about guaranteed you will. But if you manage to win more than you lose, chances are you’ll find yourself moving toward your goals rather than away.

But most of all, if you are just starting out and finding your courage, know you’re not alone, no matter where your starting point. Believe me — I hated myself when I started, and I didn’t believe I would be any more successful on this try than on any other previous attempt at weight management. I certainly didn’t believe I deserved it, and I was horribly embarrassed by that starting point. I didn’t want to admit my real weight and measurements to anyone, and most of all, myself.

But had I not done that, I’d have no idea now exactly how far I’ve traveled. That knowledge brings power. And I am not alone; I am not the only woman, ever, to have lost over a hundred pounds. In fact, I’m proud to know quite a few fierce woman (and men) who have come that far, and even more. We are part of a family of those who have fought hard for that right to know exactly where we stood — and stand. Because it matters, every step of the way.

This journey is not a solitary one; from the first moment of public confession, I never once walked alone — but it took that step of admission for the hands to reach back to me and join with mine. The same can happen for you, whether you’re standing on the brink of changing your life, or well along your way.

You’ll never walk alone — but you must first be willing to walk.

I’m old enough to remember what life was like before email, the internet, all the wonderful technology that has both improved and confused our lives. Not long ago, I waxed nostalgic (what else are you gonna wax? Okay, the car, perhaps…) about the differences in communication when I was young, and how things are, now.

I remember having pen pals. Long distance phone calls were expensive; not to mention, there was only one phone in our place. It was mounted on the kitchen wall, and it had a long-ish cord, but unless no one else was home, everyone knew who you were talking to and what you were saying. Letters were more private affairs, and at least speaking for myself, I wrote (and often rewrote) each line with care. I thought carefully about what I said.

The anticipation of a letter back was a sweet thing; a delight to find something special with my name on it in the mailbox that hung by the door. There was a special pleasure and innocence in reading hand-written words meant just for me, regardless of who wrote them.

This progress photo obviously is not me.

Unfortunately, this has become a dying art form, and a well-written letter truly was a cherished thing, read and reread, kept. Not a single LOL or a WTF in any of them. We led more deliberate and thought-out lives. I’m sure I don’t have to explain how times have changed; after all, what medium are you using to read this very blog? How often can you now throw out a casual status update, text a friend, or drop an email to your boss, your client, your mother?

While our methods of communication have changed, one thing has not: we still craft ourselves as we want to be seen rather than revealing who we truly are. In the old days, distance allowed us to distract, divert, or only share the best of ourselves. Things are not so different, these days; many of us project a second — perhaps better — version of ourselves online, hiding the faults and scars of our daily lives.

We hide behind selfies that required twenty retakes until we are happy with the result. We use old photos for profile pics because we firmly believe we looked better in those days than we do, now. We craft and present the world with a cleaned up version of ourselves.

When I first started this journey, I swore that I would not do this, but the truth is that I still often do. Perhaps it’s human nature to want to be seen in a certain light, and I’m probably about average when it comes to vanity; I promised myself I’d always keep a current photo up on social media, but the truth is, I just recently ditched a 10-year-old photo on LinkedIn. I was thinner, then. In my own mind, I looked better then than I do, now. I know that my outward appearance has no bearing on how well I perform my chosen career, but there’s part of me that believes a potential client may well believe that it does.

It’s a mask many of us wear, and speaking for myself, I need to discard the fear of losing that mask. I am who I am; I may not look like the person I was a year ago, ten years ago, thirty years ago — but it hardly matters, does it? We tend to keep or discard people in our lives based on who they are, not what they look like.

The older I become, the less tolerance I have for shallowness. That said, I’ve recently realized that I fully expect other people to be shallow and make judgments about me based on my physical appearance. It’s why I don’t post progress photos on a blog that deals entirely with weight loss. Unfortunately, there are many people out there that judge a person’s worth by the number on a scale — but it seems to me that those people are not here. I worry that people I believe are friends would see those progress photos, and instead of being happy for me, they might be critical behind my back, or use my progress photos in ways I’d rather not imagine.

I have no idea if this perception is accurate. I am not done with my journey, so I’m not sure what people expect to see in such things. Mind you, I’m proud of my progress, and I have shared progress photos with people who are close to me. But I fear that doing so in a more public way could, perhaps, damage the mental strength I’ve been careful to build.

On the flip side, I hope that people who follow my words, here, find hope and strength to battle whatever demons keep them in their own locked cages. Will it help them to see someone like me, with all my imperfections, making progress, even if the progress is not yet complete? I don’t know.

If you have an opinion on the matter, I’d like to hear it.

As I’m working my way back to my low weight, I’ve done a lot of thinking about my journey, and learning to appreciate the changes. I unearth new discoveries without even meaning to do it. (It’s awfully nice to be back in striking distance.)

Chipping away at finding my next self.

These gold nuggets are NSV or Non-Scale Victories. My most recent one was discovering that my first wedding ring now fits. I’ve been married for 33 years, and I had to stop wearing the ring I received on my wedding day within a year of receiving it — not because it was too small, but because I hurt my hand and my ring finger swelled to a point where we had to cut off the band. It was a panicked at-home job, and none too neat.

It lay around in an old jewelry box for a couple of decades, mangled, something I felt sentimental about even though we replaced our rings not long after the initial accident. Then, probably a decade or so ago, I took it to a local jeweler and they fixed the ring. At that time, I’d just finished losing 140 pounds, so the ring was smaller than the one I’ve worn over recent decades. Considering I’d stopped wearing the larger ring before the beginning of my current journey because it had grown too tight, it’s a pretty cool accomplishment to have gone through two rings.

But it’s more than that. I feel other changes that have nothing to do with size, and everything to do with the core of me. Constant change over the course of my life has left an indelible mark. I am not that girl I was 40 years ago, 30 years ago, even 20.

I would not go as far as to say there’s no trace of her; in fact, in many ways, I’ve found myself peeling back layers of me, returning to the things that brought me joy so many years ago, unearthing my foundation, returning to home. But I am not that girl; I don’t have the same fears, the same trepidation.

Along with the weight, I’ve shed parts of me that are no longer useful, that were toxic and contributed to the state I was in. I’ve been working to retain the better parts of myself as I do this, and while I freely admit that at times it binds my mental processes to a point where I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels. I get restless, anxious, frustrated. But I’ve also learned that these things are most often the precursors to great strides forward.

I’m a hybrid of my former self and the lessons I’ve learned along the way, and instead of dreading the changes before me, I’m excited. I know there are big changes ahead of me; not just physically, but mentally, as well. I can feel those creative juices bubbling to life, and I know with absolute certainty that in the weeks, months, and years to come, I’m going to do things I never thought possible.

That girl I was, she used to be mine. She’s not gone. She’s better than she ever was, and the metamorphosis is far from complete.