One of the biggest mindfucks I’ve faced since getting sick has been this:
How do I measure progress when I’m healing?
Before illness, it was simple.
If I gained weight, I changed what I ate and moved more. If I had a goal, I made it happen. Life felt like a predictable formula: input → output. I knew the rules.
Then I got sick.
Everything Changed
I gained more weight than I ever imagined. I hardly recognized myself. Yes, I got two beautiful boys out of that chapter—something I will forever be grateful for. But I also made a quiet deal with myself: If I can have more kids, I’ll sacrifice my body.
I told myself I wouldn’t care. That it wasn’t vain. But I didn’t realize the emotional cost that would follow.
Living in a body that feels foreign is exhausting. Simple things—like tying my shoes—became full-body efforts. The shame, the frustration, the quiet self-loathing from not being able to “fix” it… it wore me down.
And every time I got too sick to eat and lost a few pounds, it came right back. Along with the inner voice whispering: You failed again.
The Turning Point
Things didn’t begin to shift until I stopped measuring progress the old way. Until I started showing myself compassion.
Even then, healing wasn’t linear. It looked more like a chaotic spiral that slowly softened. But how do you measure progress when you’re healing and it doesn’t come in straight lines?
The scale didn’t help—it made things worse. I obsessed over the number like it held all the truth. It dictated my mood. My worth. My day.
So I stopped checking. I had to.
What Progress Looks Like Now
Now I measure differently:
- In how my body feels when I wake up
- In how much energy I have to play with my kids
- In the sound of my own laughter
- In how quiet the critical voice has become
That’s how I measure progress when I’m healing now.
Not in numbers.
Not in perfect “before and after” pictures.
But in the lived moments that remind me I’m still here. I’m still healing. I’m still worthy.
Why I’m Sharing This
Because if you’re in a place where your healing doesn’t look like someone else’s, or your body isn’t “bouncing back,” or the scale feels like a bully—you’re not alone.
Progress doesn’t always look like losing weight or checking goals off a list. Sometimes it’s softer, quieter, harder to define.
But it’s real.
And so are you.