Week One – The Journey Raw Reflections Before the Cut

With 8 weeks and 2 days left

I told y’all I’d share every step of this journey with honesty, and that starts now.

This past weekend I took a road trip for my niece’s early birthday. We drove down to Indianapolis, her hometown and honestly, it hit me deep. Watching her light up as we drove through the places that shaped her, hearing the stories, and seeing where her life began… it reminded me how important beginnings really are. How they mold us, ground us, and stay with us, even as we grow.

Somewhere between the long stretches of highway and stolen car naps, I started thinking about my own beginning. Not just where I was born, but who I’ve become. The choices I made. The ones I didn’t. The chances I let slip because fear whispered louder than faith. And the dreams I still haven’t given up on even when the mirror tried to convince me otherwise.

This wasn’t just a birthday trip. This was a walk down memory lane that turned into a spiritual check-in.

I’m having surgery in September. A panniculectomy with abdominal muscle repair my final chapter after losing over 146 pounds with VSG. It’s a moment I’ve waited for, prayed on, worked hard for. But let’s keep it real… it’s scary, too.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious.

Will I heal well?

Will the pain feel unbearable?

Will I still recognize myself in the mirror?

What if it doesn’t go the way I planned?

These thoughts don’t mean I’m not ready they just mean I’m human. And I know I’m not alone in that. There’s a part of all of us that wonders what could’ve been if we’d made different choices. That looks back too long sometimes instead of forward. That grieves the old version of ourselves, even as we celebrate the new one.

This surgery isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. It’s the closing of one book and the start of another.

So if you’re following my journey, thank you. If you’re preparing for something similar, I see you. And if you’re stuck in your own “what ifs,” I want you to remember something: healing is hard, but regret is heavier. Choose you even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.

And here’s what I’ve come to realize:

Healing isn’t linear. It doesn’t follow some pretty, pre-planned roadmap. It loops and curves and sometimes crashes right into your fears. But there’s beauty in that chaos. There’s truth in those breakdowns. And more than anything there’s clarity.

This past year has been a lot of unlearning. Learning how to love this new version of me without needing to apologize for who I used to be. Learning that boundaries don’t make me hard they make me whole. Learning that weight loss didn’t magically fix my confidence but it did give me back my breath, my ability to move, to dance, to live without pain. It gave me the option to choose life more fully.

But body image? Whew… that’s another beast.

People think once the weight is gone, everything’s perfect. Nah. There’s extra skin. There’s muscle damage. There’s moments in the mirror where I still don’t feel like I belong in this body. Where my clothes fit, but my mind hasn’t caught up. Where compliments feel like band-aids over wounds that still ache on rainy days.

That’s why this surgery matters to me. Not for vanity but for freedom.

I know the pain is coming. I’ve read every forum, watched every YouTube diary, prepared myself for the drains, the swelling, the immobility. I’ve stocked up on pillows, planned meals, created a recovery space. But nothing prepares you for what happens inside. The emotional unraveling. The layers of self that get peeled back with every stitch.

I don’t want to just share the “after.”

I want to honor the “during.” The messy, the raw, the healing, the holy.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt torn between the person you were and the person you’re becoming—welcome. You’re not alone here. This space, this story, this journey… it’s for us.

I’ve walked through hell and back in this body. I’ve loved, lost, rebuilt, broken, cried, laughed, and now… I’m choosing to evolve.

Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, spiritually.

This is week one. The thoughts are swirling. The feelings are tender. The truth is raw.

But I’m still standing. Still walking toward my next chapter—one scar, one stitch, one breath at a time.

Stay with me.

This is only the beginning.

With love Nina💙