Being happy in my own skin continues to be a challenge. Especially while dealing with pericarditis, or anxiety, or depression, especially during this pandemic where I’m working out less, it’s easy to start to feel as though my body is weak, and then to allow further credence to the idea that I am somehow lesser, less sexy, less strong, due to my weight.

    But in a recent therapy, I visualized putting that thought, that lesser-than, onto a card. I visualized walking away from that card, putting down its weight. And then I pictured burning it, watching those words, the idea that my weight made any difference to my beauty, my strength, my fire, dissolve into ash, and I pictured washing that ash down the drain. And that’s the energy I’m trying to pick to my body every day now. I can try to walk more, to do more yoga, to dance more, to eat less sugar, and I will, because all of those things will make me even happier inside my skin. But regardless of any of those, there is fire, inside of me and out, and I plan to let it burn.