The Weight I Still Carry

I had a different post all ready to go this week, something deeper that’s been sitting on my chest for a while. You’ll still get that, but first, this. Because I can’t not acknowledge what just happened.  

Yesterday morning, a rocket full of celebrities took a ride to the edge of space and floated for five minutes.  Katy Perry held a daisy like she was posing for a perfume ad. And now they’re calling themselves astronauts.

Astronauts.

Now, one of them actually was; she alone trained for it and earned that title.
The rest were cosplaying on a multi-million-dollar vanity stunt. Preening like they did something noble.

If riding in a rocket makes you an astronaut, does checking my smartwatch make me a cardiologist?

Meanwhile, Loral O’Hara, an actual astronaut, just got back from nine months aboard the ISS. Nine months of enduring delay after delay to finally get rescued and come home, and most people didn’t even notice. 

This stunt was nothing but performative progress, and I am so tired of spectacle being mistaken for significance. So, I think that the post I planned for today still fits. Actually, maybe it fits even better now.

Because while they play astronaut, some of us down here are surviving real gravity.

The Weight I Still Carry

I lost 55 pounds. Again. And I’m proud of that.  I’m clearer, more grounded, and more at peace than I’ve ever been.

Maybe you've done that too. Maybe it wasn’t weight. Maybe it was leaving a toxic relationship. Setting a boundary. Getting sober. Starting over.

Whatever it was, you clawed your way out of something hard. And then, just when you thought It would finally get easier, the mental load showed up.
That's the part no one really talks about.

Some days, I still catch myself checking angles in the mirror. Zooming in too close on photos (thought to be fair, I usually hate most of the pictures my husband takes of me – he catches me at weird angles and never tells me that my hair is a mess).

I read my own body like a report card.
Not every day, of course, but enough to remember where I started.
But now, I don’t let those thoughts spiral. I don’t pretend they don’t happen, either. Instead, I just let the thought land and then move on.

Peace isn’t the absence of struggle; it’s the refusal to get dragged back into it.

👉 Want more on choosing your own fight? Read Let the Record Show — a love letter to not going down easy.

The Lie That Got Me Here (and Kept Me Stuck)

You ever fall for this one?
“If I could just lose the weight, I’d be happy.”

That lie gave me structure when I felt untethered. It gave me something to chase instead of something to feel. Feeling meant grief, anger, and helplessness, none of which I was willing to touch at the time.

So, I focused on macros, miles…anything but the truth.

But once you stop eating to cope, you have to actually deal with the thing you were trying to outrun in the first place.  
I wasn’t hungry; I was hurting and scared. I was just trying to stay upright in a life that didn’t feel safe, and food just happened to become my handrail.

👉 Related: Beautiful Lies, about turning daydreams into armor.

The Stuff No One Cheers For

Discipline isn’t sexy. It’s definitely not fun. But it’s how you protect the version of you that’s still in the making.

It’s choosing what your future self needs more than what your current mood wants. Over and over and over again..

Carl Jung said, “You are what you do, not what you say you’ll do.”

That one sticks with me because I used to say a lot of things until I realized that saying them wasn’t the same as doing them. The road to hell being paved with good intentions and all…

A lot of people talk a good game about what they’re going to do.
They make promises and grand statements, wrap them all in good intentions, and call it accountability.

Real life isn’t built on forecasts and promises but on consistent repetition.
And depending on who you’ve had to count on…you learn that the hard way.

Jim Rohn put it this way: “You either suffer from the pain of discipline, or you suffer from the pain of regret.”

If you’ve ever reached for comfort and stopped yourself, you know. If you’ve ever chosen what you needed over what would’ve numbed you, even for a second, you know.
And that’s power.

There’s no medal for unlearning self-abandonment. No round of applause for crawling out of bed when your motivation is at zero. No one sees that work. But you do. Your body does. Your future self absolutely does.

The Fear That Still Lingers

If you’ve ever lost the weight and gained it back like I have, you know that fear doesn’t magically vanish once you hit that desired target again.

Every off-day whispers, "See, you're slipping."
Every skipped workout dares you to lose everything.

But I choose not to live in fear. I do stay aware because the version of me that used to quit when it got hard still tries to nudge me to this day, but she’s doing it from the backseat now. She doesn’t get to drive anymore.

Of course, just when I feel like I’ve found my stride, life finds a way to keep me humble. Or self-aware. Or whatever you want to call it.

Not even an hour after I published Let the Record Show, feeling all proud of myself for being ready to “handle” turning the big 5-0, came the humbler:
AARP mailer. Addressed to me.
Right there in the mailbox, like a bitchslap from the universe.

Nothing keeps you grounded like geezer mail, that’s for sure.
Naturally, I texted a picture of it to my mother because if I had to suffer that image, so did she.

She ribs me about aging every chance she gets, so it's warranted, I assure you.

💌 Like this? I send out one honest, unfiltered essay each week. Sign up if you want to keep going with me.

What’s Different Now

This time, I’m not trying to earn approval.
I’m just taking care of my present and future self.
Simple as that.

To borrow the words of the criminally underrated Noxeema Jackson from Too Wong Foo: “Approval neither desired nor required.”  

I don’t get up at ass o'clock to punish myself. I do it because I’m finally living like someone who is worth taking care of. On the rough days, I show as best I can. On the worst days, I choose to rest. I’ve already seen what happens when I don’t allow myself to trust myself at all.

So yeah, I still carry weight, the weight of consistency and accountability. The weight of consistently choosing what serves you instead of what soothes you.

But it’s also a strength, the kind you only notice when you realize the hard thing doesn’t feel quite so hard anymore.

If you’re carrying it too, I see you. You’re not alone. You got this.

The Full Circle

Lately, I’ve started catching glimpses of joy that feel… old in the best way. Familiar. Like a piece of myself, finally catching up.

For my birthday, we ended up at this very cool retro pinball arcade in town. It had old-school arcade games, pinball machines, and a two-player Guitar Hero setup. My daughter and I immediately grabbed those plastic guitars and played until our arms were stiff.

That night was a full-circle reminder that even when everything changes, some parts of you are still there, just waiting to be invited back in.

Final Words

So yeah, let ‘em float up there.
Let 'em stage their photo ops and call it progress. I’ll be enjoying the ensuing memes from this painfully curated stunt.

While there may never be headlines or applause for some of us down here, there’s something better:
A life that finally feels like it’s ours, because we made it that way.

Keep going.

Heather P. is an essayist and longtime ghostwriter publishing unapologetic stories about trauma, reinvention, and the absurdity of real life.

Creator of Unfinished Business, a platform reaching readers in over 20 countries for its dark humor, emotional precision, and refusal of performative healing, whether the story is about grief, growth, or just getting through Tuesday.