You Are What You Think
2025 Is My Year (At Least That's What I Keep Telling Myself)
Because manifesting.
In all seriousness, though, 2024 was one of the most emotionally and physically difficult years I’ve ever had. I don’t say that to throw myself a pity party but rather out of gratitude. As I step into a new year, I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve learned and how I can use it to shape the next decade of my life. I hear your 30s are the new 20s.
While only my therapist gets the really juicy details, around summer 2024, I had a nagging feeling that something was wrong and that I needed to see a doctor. Long story short, I was diagnosed with gastroparesis and premature ovarian failure—meaning both my stomach and ovaries had stopped functioning properly, or at all. It was both grief-inducing and disorienting, to put it honestly.
For years, food was a source of comfort for me, to the point of Binge Eating Disorder. And now? It often feels like a chore with a side of anxiety (though thankfully, it’s getting better). I started losing weight and looking “healthier,” all the while feeling increasingly sick. When you go from being a plus-sized binge eater—which is obviously unhealthy, both physically and mentally—to a conventionally attractive, small-bodied person, there’s a strange disconnect between appearing healthy and actually being healthy. Especially when well-meaning people comment, “You look so good! What’s your secret?”—never realizing that what they see as “healthy” came with its own struggles.
All of that is to say: I’ve had to do a lot of inner work to untangle the chaotic web of emotions and disordered thinking, forcing myself to take a critical look at my life and ask:
What do I want my life to look like?
Does that vision align with my values?
There’s a YouTuber whose podcast I listen to occasionally. He mainly focuses on marriage and relationships, but something he said stuck with me—because it applies to every aspect of life. Paraphrasing, he described how he and his wife were at a crossroads and decided to sit down and define the life they wanted to build together. They mapped out exactly what they envisioned and identified what “bricks” needed to be laid to build that dream.
I wholeheartedly agree: we build our own lives, brick by brick.
But what does that actually look like in practice?
Reflecting on my journey, I realized I had naturally taken a two-part approach to answering this question:
Looking back at the moments in my life when I felt happiest and most fulfilled, then asking:
What about this situation generated joy?
How can I achieve that same joy now?
Re-engaging with activities and interests that used to make me feel like the fullest, most joyful, most grounded version of myself—and finding ways to apply those principles now.
Knowing I have the power to bring my vision to life is empowering—like I’m protecting and building upon the peace I already have, despite my body (and, let’s be honest, my country) working against my well-being. Practicing the art of keeping what serves me and letting go of what doesn’t is much easier said than done. But if I know my roots—if I have a strong sense of existential value—then I have a foundation for setting goals and ambitions that bring me closer to a life of joy and fulfillment.
So, what are your values? What makes you feel connected to yourself and grounded in reality?
For me, it’s having a strong community of like-minded individuals—people I can laugh with, cry with, and share everything in between.
Months ago, I started a list called “Things I Used to Like and Do.” I literally sat down with myself and wrote out questions—as if I were talking to a friend or my therapist—because I needed someone to remind me who I am, what I like, and what I want for myself long-term. And who better to tell me than me?
Here are some of the questions I asked myself:
What hard skills am I good at?
What adjectives describe the ideal version of myself?
What do people currently like about me? Do I agree?
What is my intrinsic motivator?
What do I actually value vs. what do I say I value?
When I did this exercise, I was struck by how much I didn’t know—what I liked, what interested me, or even what I was good at. For longer than I realized, my bandwidth had been almost entirely consumed by my job and simply trying to function physically. And what kind of life is that?
Especially in a country designed to extract as much emotional and physical labor from me as possible for as little pay as possible. Maybe there’s a rebellious part of me that wants to thrive outside of work as a way to push back against the idea that my value is contingent on my achievement of a smaller body, level of productivity, or my ability to conceive and birth children.
Returning to my roots is both an exercise in confidence (looking at all the reasons why you are awesome will do that) and a means of critically engaging with what does and doesn’t bring me closer to my highest self.
I’m learning to trust the vision I have for myself and seek out what draws me closer to it. It takes work and can be uncomfortable. For example, to challenge myself, I decided to research competitive show choirs in my area and audition.
I haven’t sung in a group or in public in over a decade, but it used to bring me joy. So I thought to myself, I have nothing to lose here. I’m already not in a group, and refusing to audition out of insecurity will only ensure that I stay on the sidelines—watching from the audience, wishing I was up there, and talking about how I “used to” perform instead of actually doing the damn thing.
I hate being a “used to” girl.
I’m too old to hold myself back from things I enjoy out of fear of rejection and too young to believe I can’t learn new hobbies or skills. And now? On Monday nights, I get to sing and perform with 60 inspiring women. I’m starting to see the tangible and intangible results of putting myself first.
I’m proud of the woman I am and the progress I’ve made.
I hope you are, too. <3
