40 Pounds, 40 Lessons, & 17 Months...
Joy, Grief, and Re-emerging
Seventeen months ago, I looked in the mirror and said, It’s time to choose myself and mean it. Not for anyone else. Not for an aesthetic. Not be "skinny" again. Not for the gaze or praise of others. But for me, myself, and I. On January 17th, 2024—I buckled all the way down. I missed feeling like me.
In the last seven years, I had babies twenty months apart. I survived the pandemic. I survived more than a few hair-pulling episodes. I survived deep, disorienting depression. I survived being on the wrong medication for two years. I survived the heaviness of negative self-talk. I survived three major friend breakups. And through all of that, I continued to discover things about myself. I discovered that I wasn’t broken—I had ADHD. I got properly diagnosed last year. I got on the right medication. I learned I’m not lazy or unmotivated. I discovered that I truly belong to myself.
I discovered that I am a vessel for joy. That I’m strong and driven. That I’m not just a mom or a wife. My worth isn’t tied to how much I produce or the work that people know me for in the world. That I can trust and get to know my body—even in my mid-30s, I discovered that it was time for me to make some big shifts.
I missed clarity.
I missed energy.
I missed being in joy.
I missed myself—so, so much.
So, I chose to return. To rebuild. To remember who I am. And every day, I’m still discovering.
I started quietly. No big announcement, no pressure. Embarking on this journey to reconnect with me was a profound decision—one day, one choice at a time. I began pedaling in my garage on the Peloton. Three to four times a week, every week, for a year. Then, I added Reformer Pilates in April. As of today, I have completed almost 60 classes. I enjoy the strength I'm building in my body so much that I am taking teacher training this Fall.
And let me be real with you: I still don’t love working out. But I do love how I feel. Strong. Clear. Present. That’s enough for me to keep going. This feels really vulnerable for me to share. I wasn't going to say a word about this journey, but I figured sharing could support the well-being of another woman out there.
When I stepped on the scale last week—for the first time in 2025—it read 146lbs. I’ve lost over 35 pounds, and nearly all of it happened at home. No gym. No trainer. No fads. Just consistency, curiosity, and self-compassion.
The number isn’t what matters. The dedication is. I didn’t weigh myself at all last year. Instead, I took progress photos (a lot of them), paid attention to how my body looked and how my clothes fit. My current weight is a minuscule reflection of my commitment. And the number is not (and never will be) a measure of worth. I haven’t been this devoted to myself in years. Choosing myself—mind, body, and spirit—has revealed just how many other areas of my life I’ve been settling in. This journey has truly been a spiritual walk, to say the least.
My last baby was born five years ago. After back-to-back pregnancies, comfort eating, and little physical movement, my body held on to more than just weight. It held onto stress, grief, overwhelm, and burnout. It took a while for me to realize that this is still postpartum—and I am still healing.
Healing and change are hard as hell. I rather not 99% of the time—but I the path back home to myself help me make room for joy even in the thick of it all. This, to me, mattered just as much (or even more so), than the physical changes. Joy didn’t always come easy. I had to schedule it. Create it. Protect it. I had to choose to get on that bike. I had to actively decide to go on my walks. I had to make a conscious decision to clean up my eating and get serious about my nutrition.
Sometimes, joy looked like dancing around the house while I was home alone and cleaning up. Or laughing mid-workout when I wanted to quit and cuss out my Peloton instructors. There were times when joy looked like sitting in silence with my tea or letting myself cry without shame.
This season has taught me that my joy isn’t a destination after the work—it’s part of the work.
In the process, here’s what changed:
My knees stopped hurting. (Megan the Stallion knees loading, lol.)
The inflammation in my face and body disappeared.
My periods became lighter and less painful.
My blood work is normal again. (!!!!)
My A1C is back in range.
My mental health is steadier, clearer, and more grounded.
And at 36, I feel ready for perimenopause—not afraid of it.
I didn’t want to be “small.” I wanted to feel rooted and steady in my core and body. And now, for the first time in a long time, I do. So I want to share 40 lessons I’ve learned on this journey—not just about weight loss, but about joy, self-love, and rising again.
40 Lessons from the Journey Back to Myself
It’s not about the number—it’s about how you feel in your body.
Loving yourself and holding yourself accountable can coexist.
A gentle approach is still a powerful one.
Strength > skinny.
Walk after you eat. It works.
Alcohol isn’t worth the inflammation. I haven't had a drink in 18 months.
You can celebrate progress without hating where you started.
Your body is not your enemy.
Doing something small every day adds up.
You don’t have to love working out to love how you feel after.
Sleep is sacred. Protect it.
Joy is a wellness practice, too.
Don’t let stress live in your body rent-free. (Evict her, lol.)
NO tea, supplement, or quick-fix gimmick will work. Stop letting influencers lie to you!
Showing up for yourself consistently is revolutionary.
Your postpartum journey is still valid—years later.
Reformer Pilates will humble and strengthen you.
Refined sugar might taste good, but feeling good without unhealthy high glucose spikes tastes even better.
You can unlearn emotional eating. Gently. (Fellow stress snackers, I see you!)
You deserve to take up space and to feel good in your body.
Tracking my blood sugar changed my relationship with food. I wore a CGM (continuous glucose monitor for 6 months).
ADHD and food impulsivity require compassion and structure.
You are not “behind.” You are beginning—again.
Don’t compare your timeline to anyone else’s.
Accountability is an act of self-respect.
You don’t owe anyone an explanation for prioritizing your health.
Take photos. Even if you don’t share them.
Being consistent > being perfect.
Rest is part of the process.
Make joy a daily practice, not a reward at the end.
Ask your body what it needs—then listen.
Your holistic health is vital in every season.
Stay close to supportive people. This makes a difference.
Yes, you can do the hard thing.
You’re more than a partner, mother, and title.
Movement is medicine.
Tending to your mental health deserves a seat at the table.
Don’t wait to feel “motivated”—show up anyway.
You don’t have to go fast. You just have to go.
Even in the hardest seasons—make room for joy. You deserve to feel alive, not just accomplished.
To all the mamas and women who are exhausted, overstimulated, or simply disconnected from their bodies: I see you. You don’t have to overhaul your life in a day. But I invite you to begin when you're ready. Move your body. Pay attention to yourself. Cut out what’s weighing you down. Add what lifts you up. Love yourself at every stage. AND, when you’re ready—choose yourself in a way that feels honest. Start small. Start scared. Start anyway.
Baby steps are still steps, sis.
No matter the season you're in, you are allowed to re-emerge. You can come up for air. You will be stronger, softer, clearer—and more joyful than you’ve ever been.
July Joy Spotting: The Light Finds You
These last 17 months have shown me, without a doubt, that even in the midst of hard work and healing, joy and light still find their way to me. This month, I invite us all to make time to intentionally welcome joy.
"The Light Finds You" is our theme for July. Even when we're in the thick of transformation, even when it’s mucky and unsteady—light still reaches for us. Joy still reaches for us. Let this be the month you reach back.
May joy remind us that it is a sacred practice, even as we transform mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. We are allowed to feel delight, even when the hard work isn’t over.
Thought Starters for July
Week 1:
Where did joy surprise me this week?
What’s something small that made me smile today?
How did I make room for myself this week?
What am I ready to receive more of?
Week 2:
What does joy feel like in my body?
Who or what helped me feel light this week?
How did I honor my needs without guilt?
What music, movement, or moment brought me back to myself?
Week 3:
What joy have I been postponing that I can welcome now?
How can I celebrate my body today exactly as it is?
What boundary supported my peace this week?
What did I give myself permission to do—or not do?
Week 4:
What version of me have I been reconnecting with lately?
How did I practice softness toward myself?
What beauty did I witness in the ordinary?
What’s one joy I want to carry into August?
May we always remember that joy isn’t a reward—it's a gift. It’s our birthright. Keep spotting it. Keep choosing it.
Gratitude Journal is a free community newsletter. If you'd like to support my work, please consider subscribing and sharing. If you’re looking to monetarily support, buying my books, merch, or joining me at a retreat or workshop are options. I even made two perfumes and a candle for us! I have plenty of offerings for you to choose from. I'm grateful for your support in whatever capacity.
My life went into a tailspin at age 61. Silly me thought it would be fabulous after quitting alcohol, but no sooner had I done it than my heart went weird. I was diagnosed with genetic terminal heart disease. First up? Cry? Next? Get on the internet and investigate the best heart healthy diet I could afford. Vegetarian, organic, whole foods. Seven months later, 70 pounds lost. I'm cheering for you, Alex. What you are doing is miraculous, not just the weight loss and not even primarily the weight, but taking charge of yourself, claiming you. It's what I had to do as well, and although everything now is a little scary, I am delighted with who I am becoming. My slogan is, “Nothing matters but also everything matters but also you’re dehydrated.” I don't know where I picked it up (somewhere in a Substack essay I'm sure), but it's true. Keep doing the thing. And keep patting yourself on your back. It is a grand thing for your children to witness.
inspiring, uplifting, and most importantly REAL. thank you, Alex. and you are officially prepped for menopause... the most empowering time in my life thus far.