How do I find her again? 

Earlier today I went to show a friend a picture of the weight I lost. It’s 200+ lbs, and I’m just over a third of the size I originally started at. In other words, Ayo, it’s a lot. 

I started looking through the photos, and before I realized it I wasn’t looking at the fat girl I used to be. I was looking at my beautiful hair. My amazing makeup, my big smile, but more than anything, I remembered her determination. 

You see, I’m pretty ready to give up. Getting my ducks in a row after all the things I’ve been going through through has proven to be way harder than I ever imagined it would be. 

And every time I think I’ve found a little healing or am ready to move onto the next step, it’s like I take three steps back. 

I will say, it’s nice that I have three steps back to take now. Baby steps. Surviving an abusive marriage is hard. Just earlier today I had to ask ChatGPT if I was the narcissist again. 

It reminded me that narcissists don’t ask that question, and what if I know that and I’m just trying to trick myself into making that the reason? 

No? You see where I’m going. What I’m saying is this Jamie that I am now— the one that’s decidedly lighter, has way less of a backbone. 

Maybe that’s because my ass is so much smaller? Maybe I need a big backside to hold my big back bone? 

I’ve gone too for with this analogy, and I’d like to apologize for that. But anyway… 

My point here is this— I don’t think it’s necessarily about my size but there was something so determined about who I was then, and I need to find her again. I need to get that determined again 

Because it’s time for me to start again, and I don’t remember what that looks like. It’s almost as if the only way I could see out of the abusive marriage was to dig as deep down as I could, and now I don’t know if I can dig my way back out. 

It’s hard. Starting over at 46 feels so wrong. It feels like I should have things together by now. 

My parents did. Why can’t I? What makes me the person who isn’t able to not make this big of a mess after being alive almost half a century? 

I don’t know. What I do know is, I love that girl. I love her hair, I love her flip flop obsession, I love her smile, and her giant sunglasses, and I love that she didn’t ever, not even once, believe she couldn’t take care of business. 

Because she always, always got things done. I need to find her again. 

She’s still there. I just have to look a little harder this time.