Seven years ago, I had a breakthrough — or maybe a breakdown, depending on how you look at it. After a lifetime of struggling to manage my weight, at one point tipping the scales at nearly 500 pounds, I said, “Enough.” I lost 130 pounds, got gastric bypass surgery, and then I dropped another 130 pounds. For a while, I was on top of the world. I was wearing pants with buttons again.

But then, life happened.

COVID hit, routines shattered, and those pesky old habits I thought I’d buried came tap-dancing right back into my life like an encore nobody wanted. I stopped tracking food. I stopped walking. And, rapidly, the weight came back. So did the shame and the embarrassment. The “I’ll start Monday” speeches. It felt like I had fallen off a cliff I’d worked years to climb.

Since then, I’ve slowly but surely reestablished healthy habits that have helped me reach my goal weight. In the process, I’ve learned a few things. Here are five of the most important pieces of advice and truth I can offer about weight management:

1. Be honest with yourself.

You know those little fibs we tell ourselves?

“Of course I’ll track that cupcake.”

“I walked today …  well, to the mailbox.”

I told those fibs too. In fact, lying to myself became a habit. The truth is, being honest with yourself is difficult. Owning your destructive habits without using them as weapons against yourself is even harder.

Things started to really shift for me when I stopped worrying about how I was going to lose the weight and started focusing on why. Understanding my guiding motivation gave me the courage to ask for help, and that changed everything.

2. Prepare with spring cleaning for the soul.

You wouldn’t jump in the car for a cross-country drive without snacks, playlists, and bathroom stops mapped out. Weight loss is no different. Preparation is key. Before making lifestyle changes, I take time to plan, journal, daydream about what I want to feel like at my goal weight, and maybe even hang up an old picture or pair of jeans that used to fit.

I treat this like spring cleaning for the soul: checking in with friends, distancing myself from the drama, finding new hobbies, and getting excited about feeling good again. Because the next phase? It’s not exactly a spa day.

3. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable. 

Let’s be honest: Weight loss is rarely fun. I had to retrain my taste buds (black coffee and Greek yogurt used to taste like punishment, now they’re my preference). I had to accept that change often feels like suffering, but it’s the kind of discomfort that makes you stronger. This is where the real work begins.

It’s also where you prove to yourself that you’re worth it. One change at a time. One month at a time. One sweaty walk around the block at a time. Is it hard? Oh, yeah. Is it worth it? Absolutely.

4. Never stop coming to meetings.

My bariatric surgeon once told me that the single most important thing I could do for long-term success wasn’t counting carbs or hitting the gym. It was staying in a support group.

At first, I thought he was being dramatic.

But the truth is, the lifeline that helped me pull myself onto stable ground after I felt like I’d fallen off the cliff of health was my support group. Every Tuesday night, I’d show up at the meeting for my local chapter of TOPS (Taking Off Pounds Sensibly) group. I kept coming back, even when the scale didn’t budge — or worse, when it did. Every time, I was welcomed with open arms (and maybe a sugar-free recipe or two).

Support groups aren’t just about accountability — they’re about community, vulnerability, and developing emotional strength. You can’t just fix your body; you’ve got to tend to your spirit, too.

5. Have principles.

When the scale refuses to move, you need something deeper to hold on to. For me, that’s my set of motivational principles:

  • I believe I will feel better when I make better choices.
  • I believe small choices make a big difference. 
  • I believe I can feel satisfied eating healthy food.

These beliefs keep me grounded when the journey gets rocky. I encourage you to find your own. Write them on your fridge, in your bathroom, heck, tattoo them on your forearm if it helps.

If you’re thinking, “But I’ve already messed up too much,” stop right there.

You’re not broken.

You’re not a failure.

You’re a human being with a story still in progress. Each day is a new chance. Laugh when you can. Cry when you need to. But most of all, find a support network, and lean on them. Because sometimes, saving your life looks a lot like sitting in a folding chair on a Tuesday evening, surrounded by people who believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself.