Sometimes goals change.
When I was laying in the hospital two years ago my goal was concise:
don't die, get home.
It was a good goal. Not easy to achieve, but not impossible either.
After I got home a new goal emerged. “Lose weight, get healthy.” That seemed like a really hard, but also possible goal. I set it in my mind and with the help and support of my partner I started that journey. A year later down 100lbs. That was really hard, but also it came off easy. I was focused on the goal above all else.
Since November 2021, I've been having a harder time with the goal. I've over complicated the whole thing, and had some plateaus and set backs. I lost another 20 pounds. I've switched jobs twice on this journey, usually a trigger for me, but have made good choices both times, stayed the course.
I should mention, I'm notoriously unkind to myself. Some days I think
hey, I love me.
Other days I can't fucking stand me. I blame myself for failings, I blame myself for literally everything, even if it's someone else's fault. I will lie down upon that fucking grenade and eat the blast.
My goal. Lose weight, get healthy. It's still a goal, I'm still reaching it. How much I lose in how much time isn't the goal, it never was. I'm smaller, I'm healthier, I'm generally happier.
Lu had a goal for me too, it had nothing to do with weight. Her goal, that I've been forsaking for my own goals is “Be here.” I was bummed when I weighed in this morning and my progress wasn't where I wanted it to be, in fact I had backtracked a bit. She looked me in my welling eyes and said
You're still here.
If I reframe the last year, I didn't succeed fully on my goal, but I did maintain a 100+ pound weight loss for a year. And I fully achieved Lu's goal for me.
I'm still here.
And I love that about me.