Heavier Than I’ve Ever Been (A Letter to my Body)

Dec 21

Written By Jolié

Author’s Note: I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, and I’m mostly okay with it. Why am I sharing this?

Great question. When the media is plagued with six packs and society’s view of what a bikini bod or what sexy looks like, why would someone who values fitness and health talk openly about having a higher body fat than ever before?

Well, because it’s real life.

I understand there are lots of people with some sensitivities towards the topic of weight, eating habits, and body image. If that’s you, my only ask is that as you read this, take what you can use, and leave the rest. If you can find some value in what follows, awesome. And if some of my perspective isn’t in line with your own and you don’t find any value in it, no problem. What I’m sharing is simply my way of showing myself unconditional love, despite what the scale says.

Sending you love for being here.

Hey Jols,

I love you so much. Thank you for all you’ve done to help keep me safe this year. There’s been so much chaos. I know this all took a massive toll on you and on this body of ours. I’m so proud of you for staying strong and staying true to who you are. I want you to know that I am so glad this is the body I get to be in. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I know you’re heavier than you’ve ever been, and I need you to know that I love you just the same. I understand how we got here–you had some heavy things to carry these past several months.

How we got here: the things we’ve carried

This year we’ve had a breakdown or two, to say the least. You’ve had to completely reorganize and rebuild so much of your life, some of it from scratch: your mental health, your career, your relationships, addressing childhood trauma, financial insecurity, loss, grief–it’s been a lot. Those few months consumed you with the most paralyzing anxiety and deepest depression that you’ve ever experienced before.

That, my friend, has been heavy.

You were stretched beyond what you thought you were capable of handling. There were some moments where we wondered if we’d be lost forever. Remember those days? Man, that was a low time, for sure. There was no energy, no motivation for anything. On those days, just getting out of bed was exhausting, brushing your teeth was an accomplishment, and taking out Lou to pee summoned all the energy you had.

It’s scary to find yourself in a ditch and not know if you’ll ever be able to make it out again.

But you did.

Holding on

Not only that, but as empty as you felt, you held on to your principles, your values, and your hope.

Not running from the feelings

You didn’t relapse–you didn’t run away from the feelings and try to escape in drugs and alcohol the way you used to way back when. I know how you totally minimize that, but it bears bringing up. Remember when you were depressed as a kid, and drugs were the only way you knew how to make it all better? The only way you knew how to make it okay again? It was the only thing that kept us alive at some points. But you didn’t revert back to that, this year, the hardest year of your recovery yet. I’m so proud of you.

Principles

You also lived your principles. You didn’t act out in those moments of emotional turmoil and cause harm or do something you’d later regret. No. You felt the feelings. And you realized you couldn’t carry it alone. (I’m so glad you didn’t try to carry it all alone. There’s no way we would’ve made it, Jols.)

All things considering, I’d say you coped pretty damn well with some extremely challenging circumstances.

What was the cost?

And yes, you held on, and it did come with a cost. We had more to hold than we had bandwidth to carry. Out of all the balls we could’ve dropped, I’m totally fine that we dropped this one: our normal eating habits.

We turned to food a little more for comfort. We had a lot less bandwidth for doing our own cooking. Understandably so.

So you gained some weight. It’s really not a big deal. In fact, I’m fine with that trade off.

When your therapist starts asking whether you’ve had thoughts about hurting yourself, deciding whether to eat the brownie is definitely not the top priority.

So I want to acknowledge that yes, I get that we’re in a little bit of unfamiliar territory here. You’re not used to weighing this much. You’re not used to it leaving you so winded in the gym. But it’s okay. Despite all this, I’m so proud to see you living full out.

How it’s not holding me back

Remember those days when you’d hold yourself back from experiencing beautiful, fun things until you felt like you were perfect? Or do you remember when you really thought you needed the perfect body and the perfect weight to feel attractive?

You still allow yourself to explore and travel. You still strut your bathing suit out at the beach and aren’t afraid to get naked even at the Korean spa (that was a lot of fun, by the way).

A healthy sex life

I don’t mean to embarrass you, but it bears needing to be highlighted–you don’t let it hold you back from having a great sex life, too. It’s important to remind you because for the longest time, even when you were in peak shape, there was such self-consciousness and insecurity you felt about your body. Remember when you thought your body had to be “perfect” in order to enjoy sex, or for someone else to enjoy sex with you?

Damn, look at you, girl. These days, you have a healthier sex life than ever before. Who would’ve thought that was even possible?! I’m so glad you’re experiencing the full aspect of your sexuality and what it is to be human.

My vehicle for going through the world

When I think of it, body, you’re my vehicle for going through this world. You let me experience this ride of being human (wild, right?). Dude, we’ve gone on some sick cross-country trips. We’ve experienced so much together.

Driving through the storms

And with all that experience, we just drove through the craziest storm we’ve ever been in. Those spots with no paved road, really rough terrain. The times our tires busted out and we had to drive on a donut. The moments where we had to death grip the steering wheel, where the pouring rain left us barely able to see out the windshield at where we were going.

I love you for all that you helped me get through. All the struggles. All the moments we were almost out of gas but you got me to the next station. We always found a way.

In those moments, the priority was not to retain the best paint job, it was not to drive in the most eco-friendly, gas efficient way, and it wasn’t even to avoid tolls. It was just to make it out and survive. Period. And you allowed us to do that. You carried me, all the way to today. I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m so grateful for you.

Lesser priorities

In that journey, some things fell in priority–I didn’t get to take you in for an oil change. I wasn't able to rotate your tires as often as is recommended as I would’ve liked to. And it kills me that I wasn’t able to do that for you. You know I’m normally that person who’s on the dot with all those scheduled maintenance appointments (the receptionists even recognize me when I come in).

But you did such a great job, we made it, and now I’m just so happy we’re not driving through the storm anymore. We’re home. We’re at peace. We can rest. Now I’m able to reshift the priorities so I can take better care of you.

I see that all that surviving took a toll on you; you’re not in the best condition. I want to show you some care. Let’s change out those spark plugs, let’s charge up that battery, change up those tires. Maybe we’ll even get you a detailing job, just because. Oh, and you better believe I’m going to stock us up on those Black Ice Christmas tree air fresheners.

My love for you isn’t conditional. You don't need to be in a certain condition for me to love you. I love you for who you are. For all you've survived and all we’ve gotten through together. And for all we’ll still experience in the future. That’s why I want you to be healthy–so we can experience even more together.

So, what’s the plan from here?

I want you to know, any plan to get you to a healthier place, a healthier weight, it’s not about trying to arrive at some destination in the future where I can love you– when you lose x pounds, then it’ll all be okay. No, I love you now.

You are home, my safe place. I'm working on having a better relationship with you everyday. I’m working on listening to you more. You shouldn't have to scream to get my attention. I’m sorry it got to that point so many times. I promise, I’m here with you and I won’t leave you.

I want to show you more of that love in my actions. I’ve removed myself from that toxic environment that you were nudging me about for months. I’ve started working for myself, so it’s just you and me, because I want to be the one accountable for taking better care of you.

So when I force you to take more breaks than you even think you need sometimes, when we do more things that make you smile, when I let you rest when you’re tired, when I push you to be open to feeling deep joy without feeling guilty for it—in all those moments, just know that you deserve it.

Here’s to a million more miles together.

Love,

Jols

Jolié