The highest point in Arkansas is Mount Magazine; it’s a flat-topped plateau with rock cliffs, and driving on top of it provides quite a scenic view of the surrounding area. There’s a lot to see and experience, as long as you’re willing to stop and take in the view and surroundings.
Take in the view — and then move on.
Inadvertently, I’ve found myself at a scenic overlook in my weight loss. I didn’t intentionally mean to stop losing weight, but that’s where I’ve been for the last couple of months. I have faith that I’ll continue the journey. But I’ve also come to the realization that I haven’t wanted to move on from this place, just yet.
I’m no stranger to weight loss and the hard work required to continue it. I knew a point would come where I would need to change directions; I reached that point, and didn’t change. I’m well aware that for the next stage of my loss, I need to bear down and work through it. I will do that — but I’ve also come to realize that there are good reasons to be where I am, at this moment.
My brain hasn’t totally caught up with my body; not its size or current capabilities. Just last week, I packed bathing suits for a trip that turned out to be too large; embarrassingly too large, to the point where there was no way I could wear them without getting arrested. I still find myself wearing clothes that are too large, and clinging to things I should release.
I’ve nearly stopped myself from doing things which I’m capable of doing. It’s been nice to discover that this body can do things, now, that it hasn’t been able to do in years — but it’s been just a tad scary, as well. I have to overcome that level of discomfort.
In short, there are things I need to learn, and realizations I need to accept. Mental hurdles to overcome. So while it might appear I’ve been standing at a rest stop, I believe now that I’ve been staying here for a reason. I’ve been at this place, before, not knowing what laid on the path ahead of me, and not prepared for it. This time, I will be prepared for the changes ahead, because I know them.
In the past year, I’ve lost (another) 60 pounds, and the changes that came with it far exceed any changes I experienced during the first 58. As I move on from this mental place, those changes will accelerate even more. It’ll be time, soon, to step forward and continue on that path and come down off the overlook.
Twice in just the last week, I’ve stepped out and accomplished things I couldn’t have done just year ago.
Mind you, I’m a slow loser. This time last year, I was about 60 pounds heavier than I am, now. We were headed to Cozumel for vacation. Because of the condition of my knees, my walking was quite limited, and we traveled with a folding wheelchair so we could still get out and do what we wanted.
I don’t walk quite like this, but would if I could!
I was already just under 60 pounds into my weight loss, then, but most of my physical improvements have been since then. I could walk short distances, but the last thing I wanted to do in a foreign country is to push myself to the point of pain. Not on vacation.
Shortly after that, my daughter got married. After her wedding, we went to pubs in the downtown area; my husband pushed me, once again, in the portable wheelchair.
This past Wednesday, I had a meeting to attend in one of the restaurants we visited during that after wedding celebration, and we parked behind the hotel we stayed at last year. After the meeting, my husband and I walked from the restaurant to the parking area. While at first I wasn’t sure, at all, about walking that distance (mind you, it’s less than a quarter of a mile), I did it. I did it fairly easily, too.
I’m pretty sure these days, if I took my time, I could do that same pub crawl without assistance; I’ve gone from using a wheelchair to a cane to walking without a cane or brace in a year. And last weekend, we met friends for a downtown dinner and then to a minor league ballpark — another unknown that resulted in more walking than I expected, and I did just fine.
I’m truly surprising myself, finding I can do more things that I originally think I’m capable of doing. I am quite literally taking small steps, but they are important ones. I can’t wait to see where my abilities take me, next.
I’m still keeping up the good fight, hoping to conquer 118 so I can amuse you with a new profile pic and a new “I’ve lost this much” pic. Stay tuned! It’ll happen!
In the meantime, I’ve been doing a fair amount of thinking about how my body has changed over the years. This came up while cleaning; I’ve been in the process of going through a lot of old boxes and papers, including old photos. Many stages of my life, I recall clearly. Some, I’d rather forget.
A World of Difference between Then and Now
I’ve found a number of photos that surprise me. It’s not because of my weight at the time; it’s more about the reflection of a mindset, reminders of times when I know, for a fact, I was horribly depressed and unhappy with my life. I came across such a photo several weeks back; by my best calculations, I was just about to turn 36. I am now 54, so there’s been quite a bit of ground covered between that time and now.
Weight-wise, I was probably heavier at almost-36 than I am, now. What I noticed wasn’t weight related; it was how one photo of me captured how unhappy I was, how out of tune within myself. Over the course of my life, I’ve dealt with stretches of depression, and this was one of them.
I didn’t like myself very much, and in those dark days, I tried to be everything to everyone else without bothering to make sure I was being true to me. Forgetting who you are is a dangerous mindset. Ignoring your inner nature eats at you until there’s nothing left but a shell. Drifting through the world, barely functioning, far too afraid to make changes — it’s a bad place to live, and I am glad I am no longer there.
Those who have known me all this time might say I was a nicer person, back then. Soft spoken, the kind of person who didn’t stand her ground or make waves. I admit that these days, I can be brazen and at times obnoxious. I’m less inclined to just go along with the flow. I’m more opinionated, I stand my ground, I take chances, I say no a lot.
I still struggle with mental demons, but I am more me than I have been in a very long time.
But I don’t have that dissonance, that sense that I’m not good enough unless I become what other people expect. I am who I am; take me or leave me. I am made better by my experiences and the absolute true friends who are part of my life, and these days, even my worst photo shows that internal fortitude. I am a fighter, once again.
Being at peace with who you are can make more difference than 18 years and all the weight in the world. Letting your true colors shine strengthens you from the inside out.
No new weight loss this week; I’m learning that these stops along the way are opportunities to learn.
That lesson, right now? A reminder to respect myself, to understand the big picture, and widen my focus. All of those things are indelibly connected.
Respect, Yo!
I get tired of the weekly battle of getting through the weekend without putting on too much water weight, and then trying to get it off during the week to see if I’ve actually lost anything. It’s frustrating and, at times, enough to make me want to rip my hair out, in hopes of achieving just a little bit of a loss on the scales.
While I’ve been ultra focused on that, though, I’ve completely missed that my body’s been changing without ever showing a change in that scale number. I’m still losing inches, despite the yoyo weight dance my scales have been showing me. I actually got into a size 20 this week — I don’t remember the last time I managed that, and while I expected the skort to be tight, it fit. That’s a non-scale victory, and I should be paying more attention to those.
I was at a meeting for a club I’m part of, late last week, and was absolutely stunned when a few of the members came up and talked to me about how they’ve been watching my weight loss and changes, that they’re rooting for me, and consider me an inspiration. I don’t do this for the praise, but that was an eye-opening moment. I so often forget that I’m not fighting this battle alone.
It’s things like these that keep me from just throwing my hands up in frustration. Yes, my weight loss is slow, but I firmly believe that taking these opportunities to ground myself and get my head straight will help me make this change a permanent one.
So often, those of us facing great amounts of weight loss want to flog ourselves even more than society does. Why is that? Are we supposed to feel bad because there’s societal disapproval of obese people? I’m done with making myself feel bad because other people don’t understand — that’s BS, my friends. I’m on my own journey, and whether that’s evident to anyone other than me is NOT the point. Rather, the point is that I change, that I accept, and that I learn the lessons I’m meant to learn.
No new weight loss this week — but I’m dangerously close!
Years ago, we lived in a house that had a spread of property around it. The previous residents were an older couple, and perhaps in their excitement over living in the country, they planted a lot of trees and bushes. The problem was that their planting was haphazard and didn’t make a lot of sense; they must have just thrown everything in the air and planted it where it landed.
Yes, I did. I totally needed to cut you out of existence, tree.
There was a flowering dogwood tree near the front porch; I love dogwoods, but this one was overshadowed by a very healthy box elder that was planted roughly ten feet away. The box elder was loaded with branches, and blocked the sun from reaching the dogwood. I never much cared for that box elder; it was a nuisance tree that was in a bad spot. No, I wanted that dogwood tree to flourish.
I took my vengeance on that tree. I started by trying to prune it back; a branch here or there. Once I got started on it, I truly decided I wanted that tree gone. It would have been quicker for my husband to go after it with a chain saw, but for reasons that I don’t remember now, that never happened. So I took a small handsaw to it.
If I felt like I needed to vent about something, I’d go vent on that box elder, one branch at a time. It took a long time before the changes were noticeable, but a branch here or there, every once in a while, started letting the sunshine through to the dogwood behind it. By the time it was truly noticeable to the naked eye, probably a third of that tree was gone.
Over the course of months, I cut every branch off that tree, leaving nothing but a tall stump. My husband brought out the chainsaw and finished it off. After that, there was nothing to block the sun from getting to the dogwood, and it bloomed much better after that.
If you’re thinking this is a metaphor… well, it most certainly is. Making change takes persistence and hard work — and the results don’t happen overnight. As long as I’m still working on my weight, it will come off, and I’ll eventually reach that point, where the next phase of making this body all it can be, begins.
[No new weight loss this week; I’m in the midst of a small stall and am changing some things up in hopes of progress. No matter; I carry onward.]
I’m excited waiting for the warm weather. Just about anyone who knows me also knows that I’m a child of the sun and water. As Spring melts into Summer, I typically find myself outside as much as possible; the more sunshine, the better.
I might still be fluffy, but my wings are growing in.
This year is somewhat different. I’ll still be spending as much time outdoors, but I’m excited in ways I haven’t been in years. Losing weight means that I’m able to do more, participate more, enjoy myself more. Sure, I’ve got my eyes set on my (smaller!) summer clothing, but that’s not all.
I find myself moving more on a daily basis, doing things I’ve been afraid to do, both physically and mentally. For the past week or so, I’ve been changing up one of our extra bedrooms and making some improvements to another. Although I’m at risk of getting scolded by my husband for admitting this, I was up on a step ladder yesterday, replacing a broken set of blinds. (Don’t worry — I was extremely careful, and I had my phone with me in case of trouble. I might be a risk taker, but I’m not foolish.)
The day before yesterday, I moved a heavy printer table out of the bedroom I’ve been working on; I have plans for that room, and it was a choice of moving on to something else and waiting for assistance, or taking it on myself. We have a two wheel handcart; I gave it a shot, and got that thing out of the house. Later, my husband and I moved an old desk out of there. (It was mostly him — I’m not crazy, people!) We moved an old loveseat in there, and I’ve been moving and lifting and sorting all day long.
I’ve made several trips to the local Walmart; I usually avoid going there because even our small Walmart means more walking than my knees have historically been able to handle. For several years, now, I’ve used the much smaller local grocer, because it’s easier for me to get around in there. But over the last couple of days, I’ve been into Walmart a couple times — with absolutely no issues. (I know hanging out in Walmart is a dubious achievement, but I take this victories where I can get them!)
I also haven’t been in a dressing room in several years. I detest trying on clothes. I usually just take my chances, buy (or order) something, and return it if it doesn’t fit. Today, I went into a dressing room. What I tried on actually fit, too; I know I’m not alone when I say that one of the most defeating feelings a woman deals with is trying on something that ends up being too small. Believe me, I’m in no hurry to go into a dressing room again, but it’s just one more thing that was a nice little non-scale victory.
I’m getting more comfortable in my own skin, too. I’m still sensitive to the fact that I’m a large woman, but I had a reaction just today that surprised me. I was in Walmart (yeah, yeah, yeah), wearing shorts and a shirt, and a strange woman looked me up and down like she was disgusted, staring at my bare legs. (Mind you, I think she was just a cranky sort of person, after listening to how she addressed a salesperson.) I’ve had a tendency to cower at such attention in the past. My first response, this time, was the overwhelming desire to confront her and ask her just what the hell she was looking at. (Don’t worry. I didn’t, but I came close.)
I’ve been living in maxi dresses; my husband and I went out to eat recently and I wore a new skort — it falls just above my knees. I don’t have good looking knees, regardless of weight, so I tend to cover them up. But I felt good in that silly skort; I was comfortable. Why should I change how I dress to make random strangers happy?
My skin no longer fits my body. That’s a fact of life I am doing my best to accept, but as Summer draws near, I’m going to be out and enjoying myself — swimming, doing what walking I can, camping, and whatever else comes up. It’s nice to be out and among the living; I spent far too long, sequestering myself because I either felt bad about myself or couldn’t handle getting out without some sort of assistance.
These are among the gifts I’ve given myself, and for as long as it takes to continue my losses, I’ll keep fighting. Time to leave that nest and fly!
Not the number on the scale, the number on the measuring tape, the size number in the back of the garment. Not even the number of calories, the number of carbs, the number of glasses of water.
Probably because I’m out of tune, but let’s not split hairs, Chuck.
It’s easy for me to get lost in the numbers, at times. That’s especially true when I’m close to a goal, as I am, now, and I’m ultra focused on getting down to that next number. My brain will start behaving as if nothing else matters than that number.
Sometimes, you can get so wound up in the little goals that the big ones sneak up on you, and I met a big goal this past Saturday; a personal goal that I set some time ago. Last Saturday, after 32 years, I performed in my first concert.
And what a day it was! I could have easily become overwhelmed in the emotion of it, and nearly did toward the end of the performance. Much of my life is connected to music, and even though I haven’t considered myself a real musician in decades, my deep love of music is as important to me as the air that fills my lungs. I had not realized how much I missed it until a couple years ago, when a dear friend sent me a gift that made becoming a musician, again, possible.
I joined a community orchestra a few months ago, and had to overcome my initial fear of walking into unknown situations where I know no one and have no true safety net, but everything worked out. While I’ve never played with an orchestra before, joining in the joy of making music with others sparked that old passion within me, and it fills a spot that nothing else can.
Facing and embracing that part of myself, rusted and squeaky with disuse as it was, was an emotional task. Often frustrated but determined, I sat down with my instrument on a nearly daily basis and pushed a little harder and a little further every day. Instead of just playing for myself, I had a goal in sight; a daunting one, for me at least.
So when I sat down at my performance on Saturday, slightly nervous to see the people gathering in that church hall, I carried a lot of things with me, there. None of my fellow musicians knew what baggage I carried with me; the fear of overcoming 32 years of musical silence, the fear of doing something I love — badly, the fear that no one would witness the event, the fear that everyone would witness it.
Playing that day was the fulfillment of a promise I made to the woman who sent me the instrument who made it possible. It was also the promise and the bond made as a child, the first time my oldest brother sat down with me to teach me to play the french horn, and then decades later, happily sparking that common bond as I picked it up and learned all over again. I hope I made him proud, and I wish he had lived to have known. It was a promise I talked about wistfully, with a dear friend, for years before it happened — not imagining it ever would.
But most of all, I fulfilled a promise to myself.
This is not so much about music as it is the strengthening and validation of my own sense of self. I set out to do this, thinking it couldn’t be done, and I might have to tuck my tail between my legs and come on home, defeated. I’m certainly no virtuoso; just a middle-aged woman, making music again. I’ve stumbled and doubted myself along the way, but perfection isn’t necessarily the goal; feeding my soul, however, has been worth every misstep.
Inevitably, this journey is one of self-discovery, of finding strength, of living life. Of being able to stand tall and say this is me, and know it rings true in every way. Every time I find just a little more of that strong girl within me, I take one step closer to being strong enough to make the end goal worth the fight.
No, it’s not about the numbers. I’m not just the old me in a thinner version. It’s about evolving, breaking free, and learning to live. If I can do that, I can keep the ultimate promise to myself.
The purpose of this blog is to help me keep my head straight while I lose weight; it’s my form of accountability, and I believe it has helped me. While I don’t have a loss to report this week, I’d like to revisit some old topics; both for those that might seek some helpful tips, and to remind myself about methods that work. (These tips may not work for everyone; your mileage may vary.)
Accountability. While it’s sometimes very uncomfortable to be public about my journey, knowing I have people who expect me to give them updates helps. There are times when, frankly, I don’t want to talk about weight loss, or I don’t really feel like owning up to a misstep or a sour mood, but not everything about this journey is perfect.
Yeah, I don’t eat those, except in my imagination.
Those are the times I need to be the most transparent because they’re the weak times. When I get frustrated or I don’t feel well, I’m more likely to think “screw all of this!” and drop off a diet. I’ve done it so many times in the past that I know the thought process. Knowing that people will ask me how I’m doing, or expect an update, gives me one more reason to keep up the good fight when I’m not at my strongest or best.
I can’t say it enough — thanks for being there for me. I appreciate the fact that you exist, and that you take the time to read my words. You help me, every single day.
Planning. “Failing to plan is planning to fail” — it’s absolutely true. All of us get caught off guard by circumstances beyond our control and have to make the best of it. If caught in a bind, it’s far too easy to shrug it off and eat whatever’s available, even if it’s not on plan. The best solution is to always have something with you that can tide you over until you can make better choices.
I’m guilty of this. I had an awards luncheon to attend, last week, but had no way to find out what was on the menu. Instead of carrying something with me to snack on until I could have more healthy choices, I just rolled the dice. Luckily, the menu included good options, but I should not have put myself in that situation.
If I’m dining at an unfamiliar place, I’ll research it (if that’s possible). If websites don’t have restaurant menus on them, often services like Facebook do. I like knowing what I’m facing in advance; it keeps me in control of the situation. Smartphones are great for dieters! Even if I’m trying to decide on the fly, I still have that available.
Failing that, I use a service called My Fitness Pal. It has an app available, and many foods from chain restaurants are listed. If I’m not sure about something on the menu, I can look it up there.
Tracking. Another mention of My Fitness Pal; I use it to track my meals and physical activity. To be honest, I’m not absolutely crazy about all of its functions; I want the ability to track more information, but I don’t feel their paid service merits the cost. (Otherwise, it’s free.)
(One caveat that I find irritating about MFP: exercise calories are added to daily allotments, insinuating that it’s okay to eat more. I don’t think this is a good idea because I’m not convinced their exercise calorie burn amounts are entirely accurate. Why take the chance?)
If I stray, it’s usually because I decide I’m not going to track something. It’s part of my accountability to myself; in order to be successful, I really do need to know what I’m eating. Guessing doesn’t cut it. Measuring food servings, and being honest about those serving sizes, is a must.
Previously, I’ve tried to get by without weighing myself, because I know I take an emotional hit when the scale isn’t cooperating. While I found some limited success in only using clothing sizes as an indicator of weight loss, it didn’t work for me. However, using several methods helps me mentally; when scale weight doesn’t indicate progress, physical measurements and clothing fit often do. I’ve learned to never rely on just one method for gauging success.
Self-Respect. This is a tough one; if someone compliments me about anything, including weight loss, I tend to try to counter it somehow. I have been making an effort to shut up and say “thank you” instead of answering “but I’ve got a long way to go”.
This also includes how I care for myself. I’ve been making the effort to wear clothes that fit, rather than baggy ones, and getting the too-big clothes out of the house. I don’t want to hedge my bets and keep bigger clothes around, just in case I fall off my diet. No! I should be proud of my accomplishments, and I should present myself in the best light, and that means feeling good enough about myself to get rid of the things I shouldn’t be wearing anymore.
Internally, self-respect also means not punishing myself. I’m admittedly really hard on myself, and that can cause problems. I don’t necessarily pamper myself; a little of that is fine, but not all the time. I also take the occasional few days where I relax my diet. Mind you, when I say “relax”, I don’t mean “blowout”; this might mean eating rice and beans with a Mexican dinner, not eating the largest dessert on the menu. I also do this with the full understanding that there’s a price to pay, and I have to accept that before I take a bite.
I also make sure that when I do choose to eat something off-plan, it’s actually good food. Nothing irritates me more than to spend my carbs and calories on bad food; my diet is pretty bland most of the time, so I want to fully enjoy and appreciate off-plan meals.
Self-Acceptance. This is one of the hardest things for me to do. I have lived for so long with a body that I despise that actually seeing photos of myself makes me cringe. I’m critical, no matter what. If a photo is taken at a bad angle, I’m more likely to beat myself up and tell myself I haven’t made the progress I think I have, than simply understand that everyone has the occasional bad photo.
My idea of what I look like often doesn’t match that of others. At this moment, my mental picture matches the physical one, but that’s not always the case. No matter what, I have to accept that this is a body in transition, but still me. This is also a slow process that requires I evaluate on a day-to-day basis, and it’s often easy to get lost in thinking too far down the road. I have to consciously remain in this moment, not dwell on what will happen as I continue to lose.
If you have other thoughts and tips, please share them! (Look for me on My Fitness Pal as LFTS.)
As I progress in my weight loss, I’ve noticed that my reactions to things beyond my control have evolved. While I find such things frustrating, my reaction tends to be more anger than defeat.
Nope. Not food. Or salt, my favorite food group.
I swore to myself, after dealing with water retention issues, that the next time I went out of town, I wouldn’t see it as an opportunity to misbehave diet-wise. I had such a challenge this week, and it was complicated further because I was dealing with water retention issues before I ever left town. For me, that’s the danger zone.
Faced with the likelihood that water retention would only worsen if I didn’t eat properly, I made good choices. Just travel alone with make me retain, so making sure I kept myself in check otherwise was important. Water retention not only causes pain in my arthritic knees but increases the possibility of a knee lock-up. The last place I want that to happen is out of town; it’s bad enough at home!
There are times when I have to focus on small victories like this. It’s easy to get lost in the big picture and think only of long term when I’ve reached a good success point in weight loss, but dealing with issues like this has served to remind me that each day must be met on its own. If I don’t, I end up convincing myself that a cheat meal, day, or a few days, are in order — pushing aside the consequences. While I do believe in taking the occasional cheat meal (which is still well planned; “cheat” is really a misnomer, in this regard), it has to be done with the idea in mind that there are always consequences.
While I’m back home now and still dealing with water retention, I’m thankful that I didn’t amplify that by making easy choices that would have made things worse. Yes, I get angry when my body doesn’t react the way I think it should; there are many times my body does things that defy logic, and its propensity to hang onto every last drop of water is one of those things.
Given the choice, though, I’d rather feel angry than defeated. Defeat just makes the situation worse. Anger forces me to look at methods to overcome whatever issue I’m facing at the moment, especially when I’m very close to a goal I’ve been pushing to achieve. Time to push a little harder!
I’m 118.2 pounds down now! I’m a mere 4 pounds away from my next goal, which will mark losing one third of my starting total body weight. I’m pretty amazed!
Moments of clarity arrive without notice. I’ve learned to savor them when I can — they are a rare treat.
I had such a moment just the other day. I was standing on my back patio. Dinner was on the grill behind me, and I had some time to kill while it cooked. I’d also recently planted some flowers and plants in pots, and had just walked out to check them.
It struck me, as I looked up at the treetops and breathed in the spring air, that I feel pretty good, these days. I feel small. And I feel — dare I say it? — normal. And strong.
118 pounds of Taylor Swift — completely shaken off. (Shaken. Not stirred.)
Now, let me explain a bit. I don’t mean small in size. I am a short woman; all of five-foot-two. Despite my weight loss, I’m still awfully big for a short woman. But these days, I don’t feel like I occupy the same space. I feel more in proportion, I suppose. Even when I drive, I’ve had to shift the rearview mirror, because I no longer sit as high in the seat; my butt doesn’t raise me up like a built-in booster seat. 😀
I feel more compact and strong, as if my body is working like it’s supposed to, instead of spreading me everywhere. Perhaps this is a phenomenon that happens with those of us who are morbidly obese, and not others, but when I’ve been at my largest, I have felt as if I were wearing five down coats at once and they all get in my way. Five water balloon-filled down coats. How’s that for a visual? Because moving with that much weight is an effort in itself, let alone how much it gets in the way.
I don’t feel like that anymore. I am crossing that indelible line into normal. While I still have many pounds to lose, it’s rare when I’m the largest one in the room, anymore. Any store that carries plus sizes also carries my size; I don’t have to shop at stores that offer extended plus sizes, anymore. In fact, I’m sinking steadily toward the lower end of the plus sizes. I’m still amazed when I pull something off the rack that I expect to be too small, and it fits.
As I’ve been selling off my extended plus size clothing, I’ve met women who are now where I used to be. In one case, the woman bought a pair of black slacks; she needed them for work. Immediately. Her pants had given away down one seam and she grabbed the pants to change in her vehicle. I felt horrible for her, and hoped that the pants would fit, because in my small town, that size just isn’t available. It would have been impossible for her to do anything other than take time off work and drive home to change, losing pay, rather than slipping into a local store and quickly buying a cheap pair of pants to see her through.
Another bought sundresses for her daughter, who is a teenager; I am a careful shopper and believe me, finding stylish clothes in those large sizes is a big challenge. Her daughter needed some options, and I’m glad I could help provide them. It must feel pretty tough to be a teenager and have to drive to a larger city just to buy clothing, but that’s how it is for those who wear over a 3X or size 26. Either drive or shop on the internet, which I have done.
My heart goes out to these women, because I absolutely understand their issues, and I’d much rather these clothes find homes of people who can truly use them, rather than donate and risk them being thrown away if they don’t sell.
It also reminds me to keep my perspective. I am happy with where I am and the progress I’ve made. I’ve wanted that sense of normalcy for quite some time, and having arrived at it, I realize how truly thankful and at peace I am. So while the rest of the world keeps speeding on around me, I’m still standing firm in my own little corner, and whatever gets thrown at me, well… I’ll continue to shake it off!
