Category: Overexposed: A Self-Love Project.

Sometimes, you find yourself in a position when you’ve become so self-aware of your behavior and ticks and you are forced to make a decision about it: will you acknowledge it and continue to do it because you know how it starts and where it stems from, or will you acknowledge it and then challenge it?

Hi, my name is Liz, and I am currently challenging my trichotillomania.

I spoke about what trichotillomania looks like on me a couple of years ago when I thought it was at its worst. I was just returning to my bookstore job after the pandemic lockdown in 2020 and I was dealing with some anxiety about things I didn’t have control over. Needing to feel some type of control, I would nervously tweeze, pluck, or pull hair from different parts of my body mindlessly and would feel helpless when I know I needed to stop.

Like I mentioned in my first blog post about this, I remember this habit developing one day when was 12-years-old, reading a book that I was really into at the time. I have this memory of reading this book on my bed; on my back with the book in one hand and my other hand mindlessly pulling the hair off of my eyebrows. As the years progressed, my eyebrows have always been the one consistent place on my body that suffered the most with this bad tick. Other places on my body have had points where I hyper-focused on at once, but my eyebrows have always been the place where I struggled to not touch when I had these hair-pulling episodes.

For years, I deemed it as nearly impossible to let my eyebrows fully grown out to its full potential. Before this tick, I always had naturally thick eyebrows to the point that I even rocked a baby unibrow when I was a kid. After years of plucking and tweezing the same hairs off of my eyebrows over and over again, I was afraid that the hair in those places would never grow back. I started to accept my patchy and spare eyebrows when I learned how to draw them with makeup back in 2016 (before that, well, let’s just say were drawn horrendously…)

Anyway…

The first half of this year has been one with tons of challenges whether they’ve been my own personal/mental challenges, or external challenges like social and familial ones. I tried to find ways to hide the fact that I was never going to be able to grow out my eyebrows, so I bleached them earlier this year to hide the little hairs I had left on them. I liked the look of them; it was the first time I ever tried the trendy, bleached eyebrow look and it was low maintenance since I didn’t have much hair to bleach whenever I had to touch them up. But, after having bleached eyebrows for three months straight, I didn’t have much eyebrow hair left in which I dyed whatever I had left and tried to grow them out again. Needless to say, it wasn’t long after that I plucked all of the remaining eyebrow hair off of my face.

When dealing with a nervous tick that in a way is categorized as a self-harming type of behavior, it’s easy to accept it for what it is and find ways to live around with it. For me, I thought that having bleached eyebrows would help me not resort to plucking if I didn’t see the hair on my face. Wrong. I eventually would get so anxious, I went back to plucking them once I saw the roots turn black, and before I knew it I was completely hairless in my eyebrow region.

I knew the only other thing I could do is challenge this nervous tick. I wanted to test myself this time around instead of allowing and accepting that this was something I was going to live with for the rest of my life. I wanted to test if I was capable of truly being able to control what I can. I wanted to see if I was able to find healthy alternatives to these ticks, like playing with a fidget toy or apply castor oil on my eyebrows whenever they weren’t drawn in. At a bigger scale, I wanted to not let these unhealthy ticks control me whenever I feel like I am not in control of the situations happening around me.

So, here I am.

I don’t know how my progress will look like by the time this post is published on the blog, but this alone has made me the most proud I’ve been in regards to manifesting something into existence. I don’t know how my eyebrows will look like (or how long my actual hair has grown since writing this), but I’m excited to continue challenging myself from something I haven’t been able to tackle in more than a decade. After a last couple of months of things not being in my field to control, I feel like this is one of the few things I actually have some way over, and if I want to see just how long I can go without relying on my nervous tick to ease my anxiety, I can.

My goal is to not only fully grow back my eyebrows, but I am hoping to grow out my hair (finally) out of the pixie stage its been in since December 2018. I think i am just at a place in my life where I want to take back control of the things I know I can and be proud of making those goals into active changes in life. I would love to see myself a year from now with a little short bob and full eyebrows!

It’s all about celebrating the little victories on the way to the main goal, and I think that’s the path I am continuing to walk down on.

Let’s just say that my only new year’s resolution didn’t necessarily go as planned.

The day is December 31st, 2022; New Year’s Eve. As someone that carries some trauma associated with the holiday, I never try to make a big deal out of it. I try to keep myself busy; on this particular NYE, I went to the beauty supply store and purchased a packet of bleach to try the whole trendy “bleached, no eyebrow” eyebrow look on my already non-existent eyebrows. As the hours counted down towards midnight, I told myself I wasn’t going to set any resolutions since I really didn’t believe in them. The only thing I wanted out of 2023 was for the year to be relatively peaceful and quiet after a very loud and very busy 2022.

Hi, my name is Liz and I think this year has been anything but peaceful or quiet for me.

2023 continues my journey of embracing the person I am growing into and practicing how to assert myself in areas such as self-worth, self-respect, and in self-confidence. I knew that new things were destined to come my way professionally as I was told early on in the year that my office was in the process of potentially getting me a full time position! Entering 2023, I feel like I was going through possibly one of the highest points in my life–

until I was at my lowest.

As we passed the halfway point into the year (which is crazy considering it feels like the year just started), I reflect back on the last 7 months of 2023 and how it’s molded me into the person I am today and even where I’m going in the future.

In 2023, most (if not all) of my interpersonal relationships were tested. I entered 2023 feeling secure and surrounded by these relationships for them to not be here anymore or not what they were before. These challenges were faced with a lot of questions in mind: am I letting people speak about my feelings and my life without really knowing the entire story? Am I going to let people fuck me up to the point where it hinders my growth as a person? Why am I feeling the way that I feel if I already know what I should do about it? I would never say that the people I once had in my life (past or present) never had my best interest in mind, but the difference was that I never even had my own best interest in mind, so why would the people around me do? I realized that after stepping back from a lot of these relationships to reflect and take a look at it as an outsider looking in: a lot of the relationships you had during the time where you were a people-pleaser and accommodated to everyone’s feelings besides yours will start to look different once you change those qualities about yourself.

Removing those qualities came with a lot of self-doubt and contemplating whether or not I was doing the right thing. There’s a fine line between being assertive and just being a mean person overall and most of the time, you’re never going to get an unanimous answer of what it truly is. You may think you’re being assertive and putting your foot down in situations you never put your foot down for when really, you’re not accounting what everyone else may be feeling and are only thinking for yourself (and vice versa, of course).

A lot of my time alone this year was spent on feeling guilty of practicing assertiveness with the relationships in my life. I spent a lot of time fighting the urge to revert back to old habits, to let people influence my decision making and to let people step all over me without acknowledging my feelings. I was afraid that I would not be seen anymore if I allowed myself to revert, but I felt like I was stuck in this place where I had the angel and devil on my shoulders:

“You are working towards a better you,” the angel began to say. “Practicing these techniques and methods means you are not going to get them right the first couple of times. Be gentle with yourself; you know how much you are truly worth.”

“But you’re constantly doing it wrong,” the devil counteracted. “Like look at yourself, Liz; you’re back to when you had no identity and no friends and like, seriously; if it feels like how it was before it’s most likely because it’s exactly how it was before.”

Not even the amount of therapy I have gotten to this point can help me rewire this part of my brain to finally stand up and say that it is what it is and that the next group of people I allow into my life will be introduced to an already assertive and outspoken Liz.

But that’s a whole different part of the story I am not ready to write yet.

In the meantime, I am learning how to be gentle with myself and give myself the same love and support I would give out to other people. I am at a place where I am learning that these changes do not happen overnight and that patience is truly the key. Half of the work has already happened; I’ve practiced these techniques and enforced them on whatever was dimming my light. The other half of the work is still yet to be determined, and who’s to say the work gets any easier just because of the practice?

When is it going to be about perfecting it?

Perfecting techniques so that when these insecurities and untamed emotions subside, I already know what has to be done. Perfecting the alignment of my heart to my mind and being on the same page with them so that I can come out of these situations the best that I can be. Rome wasn’t built overnight, and I know I have more than the rest of this year to unlearn beliefs and ideologies that are harmful to my mental well-being.

These next 5 or so months, I don’t see myself having this “come of Jesus” moment and discover the true meaning and purpose of life. I don’t even see a lot of peace along the way, and that’s not me being pessimistic or a Debbie Downer; it’s me having lived a lot of life and experienced how not everything that shines is gold. I know that anything in life can happen, and no matter how prepared I am for what’s to come or how it comes, I am still learning and growing into the person I want to become–

–and there’s simply no deadline for when that happens.

I want these next 5 months of 2023 to be a time where I am experiencing all of the things I was once too scared to experience. I want to continue having the difficult conversations I used to avoid completely when I was younger. I want to be my authentic self to others and still remind them I have feelings and emotions just like theirs. I want to push myself to try new things, learn new methods and techniques and perfecting the ones I am already being taught.

Most importantly, I want to enter my 30’s in 2024 alive.

Not just physically alive, but I want to experience my 30’s just how everyone describes them to be; “a time in your life where you do not care what people say or think about you because you have a pretty good understanding of who you are.” If there’s one thing I felt consistently in my 20’s, it’s the feeling of being mentally exhausted. Shit; I’m currently mentally exhausted. I’m exhausted of worrying about what people portray me as, I’m exhausted of trying to prove myself to people who already have an opinion about me. I’m exhausted of allowing external beings influence my internal feelings. I’m exhausted wondering if I am worthy of healthy, true love in the form of romantic partners, platonic friends, and anything that I feel like I don’t deserve. I am exhausted of having other people’s best interest in mind and never having my own. I so desperately try to keep lovers and friends in my life, yet easily let go of the lover and friend within myself.

I am so proud of how far I’ve become as a person. I am proud that I am relearning who I am and what are the things that define me as an unique being in this world (and yes, that includes my red flags and toxic traits). I am proud that I can look back to the Liz I was 10 years ago and truly say that I made it through the shit that I thought was going to take me down.

I just hope that 2033 Liz sees the same in the 2023 me, knowing I’ve overcome everything I’m going through now. There’s no doubt in my mind that she will.

Time flies when you think about it.

In 2021, 2023 felt like it was a long way. At the time, I was thinking a lot of things: in 2023 I would be 29, God knows where I was going to be work wise, and it would be 2 years from having weight-loss surgery.

Hi, my name is Liz, and this Wednesday marks 2 years since having gastric bypass surgery.

I look back at pre-surgery Liz through videos and photos saved in the archives of Instagram, remembering the things she was into and mentally where she was. Her life was surrounded by K-pop on the days she didn’t have to focus on doctor appointments and tests for clearance. She was a bookseller, lifting 50 lbs of books during our chargeback season & training the new booksellers for the upcoming Fall semester starting in August. I requested my two weeks sick leave prior to my surgery date that summer, and when that last day of work came before that take off, I didn’t imagine returning with my life being completely different.

The night of July 11th, I didn’t realize that the person that sat at the kitchen table wasn’t going to ever return. Physically, it was a given; after the surgery would start the 2 year weight loss journey, but mentally? I don’t think I could even remember the person that was Liz before her life completely changed.

I knew that life was going to change for me, but it never surprises me just how much of it really has changed. I entered this journey being 311 pounds and wearing a 4XL and size 32 in pants. I never left my house due to how exhausted I always felt; especially in the summer. I felt older, like middle age old, and I was not even close to being that age. Two years later, I am 170 pounds and wearing a L and size 14 in pants. I can’t sit in one place for too long without feeling the need to get up and go somewhere. I am currently writing this on a beautiful and sunny day at a park because I didn’t want to write inside the house. I have this energy—all this built-up energy— to do the things I never wanted to do when I was heavier. Physically I feel the greatest I ever felt, and of course a lot of that reflects how my mental health has been as well.

Sure, it’s not all peaches and cream when I speak about my mental journey these last two years, but I’ve been in places mentally that I dreamt of being in when first starting my healing back in 2018.

I’ve mentioned a lot in past blog posts that this journey has giving me the confidence to practice methods and techniques that challenges my social anxiety. Because I was changing habits physically for a better health, I now felt ready to change habits I’ve developed during the time I was defined by my mental illnesses. On one side, it has enhanced my love for life; I don’t ever feel like life is not worth living. I don’t allow life to pass day-by-day without doing the things that feeds my soul. It’s allowed me to become independent and able to do things without an entourage. On the other side, it’s also tested a lot of the relationships in my life that knew me as the Liz that was submissive, dependent, and unable to speak up for herself. A lot of those relationships have either drastically changed, or are simply not in my life anymore. It’s been a give and take situation; I have given more to myself now that I am learning to love myself and heal my inner selves, but in return life took the people that felt needed was necessary in order to evolve.

As I sit at the park I used to come to with my middle school friends every Friday after school, I remember that this journey has not been to only better myself and live a healthier future. This journey has only made it this far for the past versions of myself; the ones that accepted life for what it was and lived life day-by-day unfulfilled. I ask the questions that they always wanted to ask I speak up because they wanted to but was too afraid to do. I challenge my comfort zone and my limits because I once lived a life that I thought I would never do so. I live for them, in all honesty, in hopes to look back in the future and remember that this was my redemption story, and I’ll be who I’ll be because of who I am now.

Two years marks the end of the journey; weight-loss will not be as easy as it has been since having surgery in 2021. I celebrate the end of this journey knowing that the true test is yet to come. I am now entering a new era, a new journey of maintaining this weight loss and continue living my life taking both my physical and mental health. It scares the shit out of me knowing that the weight can come back if I’m not careful, but that’s another story for another blog post. Right now, I am celebrating all the amazing things happening in my life; I am celebrating myself for making it this far and even through the hellish parts of this journey, I am still here. I am still level-handed. I still know the direction I am going in.

And I will keep going in the direction I want to go down.

Happy 2 years, Liz. We’re proud of all of the work you’ve done to make it to this point. Now let’s get out of this park and grab ourselves a summertime drink on the way home.

Overthinking; it’s something that is embedded in my routine without me realizing it. I overthink the smallest things, like how uneven my liquid eyeliner is and how much cat hair is on my dark-colored clothes. I overthink the outfits I put on and how they make my body look; are the clothes too big on me and make me look sloppy? Are they too tight and are emphasizing every bad curve on my body? I overthink to the point where I allow it to consume and eat me alive inside until it completely takes over me.

I’m even overthinking as I write this.

Hi, my name is Liz, and I spend a lot of time in my head; an unhealthy amount of time.

A little over a week ago, my therapist asked me if I was comfortable adjusting our meeting times. She said, “You’ve made so much progress that in my professional opinion, you are ready for biweekly visits instead of weekly.” I agreed because I’ve come to a place where I felt like I didn’t need therapy as much as I did in the past. So when I showed up to our last session with the same anxious thoughts and panic behavior, I felt defeated. How did I allow overthinking to get me to a place where I was now feeling like I needed weekly therapy and anxiety meds again? I know progress is not linear, but for fuck’s sake, it felt like I reverted back to where I was before.

I’m no stranger to saying that I’m in a very weird place in my life; I don’t have the same friend group I had for the last couple of years, my interests are shifting, and I’m feeling uncomfortable in my skin; figuratively, not literally. I feel my soul wanting more, yearning for more, and it’s not because I’m not appreciative of the things I already have in my life.

I learned in therapy years ago that your soul cannot be ignored. Your soul speaks to you in various different ways to let you know you’re not listening to it. It speaks to you in your behavior, the decisions you make, the thoughts you have, and even how you act toward your surroundings. When we try to ignore what our soul is trying to tell us and not go for the things that it wants, that’s when we feel like we’re having this internal battle with ourselves. Who do I listen to? My mind and emotions and thoughts, or do I listen to what my soul is trying to tell me? Getting to this place is the scariest in my opinion, because the outcome of it all usually is losing something you cherish forever, but eventually reflecting back and seeing that had to happen in order for this to happen.

I learned it the first time I went through this, and you would think it would be easy the second or third time around, right?

Heh. I’m terrified.

See, overthinking will allow you to think that having these many occurrences of the same outcome means you failed or you are destined to live in this state of uncertainty. Things are constantly changing in my life; why can’t I just stay in one place and not self-sabotage things? What is it about me that projects this new and confident version of myself that makes the things I love in my life up for question? Am I doing something wrong? Being in this constant state of uncertainty will no doubt have you thinking about every negative thing about yourself and eventually, you fall back into old patterns. You stay silent. You blame it on yourself rather than the external things. You sit it out until you’ve slithered yourself back into your comfort zone and you conclude that it was all in your head. But you fail to realize that every time you do that, you lose a sense of yourself, and your confidence, and you allow that overthinking to take your peace away, hinder your progress, and set you back into old, bad habits.

Let’s be very transparent about something that I’ve dealt with these last couple of months; I still mourn the loss of my friend group that I had during the pandemic and who was very influential in my hobbies and interests at the time. I lost that friend group for many reasons, but the main reason for me was that I had to stand my ground and defend myself when I felt disrespected and when a line was crossed. As much as it hurt me to lose the people who I called my best friends at one point, I needed to put myself first and my feelings first. The “new me” congratulates me on that; she reminds me that there was a time in our life that I would avoid confrontation by simply allowing people to walk all over me and disrespect me just because I was afraid of losing them. But the “unhealed” me, the one that still deals with different forms of social anxiety and wants to please those she loves and emotionally take care of others before taking care of herself, she overanalyzes every little thing that happens and is afraid that the same outcome will happen again and–

“Don’t let it.“

I looked at my therapist when I was going on and on about this fear. “I’m afraid that I’m reverting back to the person I was. As much as I’m trying to practice assertiveness and projecting my self-worth when I feel like I’m not being respected, I feel like when I do that, everything leaves.”

“I know it’s easier said than done, but you are not giving yourself enough credit with just how much progress you’ve made. You are making these changes in your life because of that growth; that voice that keeps telling you to speak up and honor yourself means you are aware enough to know that you deserve people who uplift you and enhance those changes. You challenge these relationships in your life because one way or another, you figured out that they are making you revert.”

Overthinking only happens when my soul is telling me something in my life is not aligning in the way that I thought it was, but don’t let the overthinking consume my being and influence unhealthy self-talk to the point where I lose sight of what I need, what I’m working toward, and what my goals are.

“Keep honoring yourself, Liz. You’re doing what you’re doing because you love yourself enough to know what it is you need and want out of life, and if you ever feel like what you’re going through is familiar or similar to what you went through when you weren’t honoring yourself and are afraid of going back to what that was; don’t let it.”

I won’t let it.

I remember wanting to go to this concert back in 2018 as a graduation gift for myself. At the time, I was really into this duo group, Superfruit, and they were going on a small tour around the U.S. One of the stops was New York City; a 45-minute train ride to the venue separated me from seeing a group I really wanted to hear sing live in concert. Two things: I was unemployed and broke, so I wasn’t able to afford the $25 tickets for the show, and I was deathly afraid to go to a concert on my own. I asked my sibling if they wanted to go, but they weren’t interested in seeing a group they didn’t really know. I didn’t know anyone else that would want to come with me to this concert, so I felt discouraged and ended up not going. I still remember looking at the group’s Snapchat stories and seeing footage of them performing at the NYC show. Major FOMO put me in the saddest mood that night. I told myself that if there was ever an artist or show I wanted to go see in concert, I would prepare and have friends to d it with and blah blah blah; needless to say it was an empty promise. I missed out on a lot of major events because I was just too afraid to go out and do these things on my own.

Hi, my name is Liz and I am now my own “plus one” to shows and events.

It took some experience and rewiring of my brain to finally master the art of being my own company. It’s funny; I had this conversation at work one Monday afternoon with Christine, my former temporary supervisor before my current supervisor came. She expressed to me that she thought it was empowering for me to go out and do things on my own, and I couldn’t have agreed more. You see, I’ve dealt with social anxiety long before I was medically diagnosed with it; I still remember being a senior in college going to a friend’s birthday gathering, and having a full-blown panic attack because I was anxious to the point I couldn’t even get up and use the restroom for 5 hours straight. Mind you, that was in 2016; two years before I sought out therapy and officially got the diagnosis. I always had a hard time existing in a social space, so I avoided them at all costs. As I got older, I started to feel like I was missing out on a lot in life; I was already in my mid-20s when I stopped being a college student and got my first job; needless to say, I’ve been a late bloomer for a lot of things in life. It wasn’t until I was truly socially alone that I started to declare myself as my own “plus one” to things that I wanted to do.

Back in early 2020 (pre-pandemic), I decided to buy tickets to a concert of a group that I was really into at the time. They were going on their first U.S. tour and the last stop was in Brooklyn at The Kings Theatre. I contemplated whether or not I wanted to go; I knew I was going to have to go by myself as I didn’t know anyone else at the time who was into K-pop. I took a chance to go and enjoy myself listening to music that I enjoyed at the time. I went, by myself, and had the best time. In a way, it kickstarted my solo adventures, and to this day I still live off the philosophy that if I want to do something, I am able to do it by myself and still enjoy my own company.

This mission of experiencing life in my own company allowed me to even go on my first solo trip! Before going to Florida in 2020, the only trips I ever went on were with family or with my partner at the time. During this time, I was still learning how to be alone; I was discovering myself in a way that was very new to me, so when I decided that I was traveling on a plane (for the first time ever) to Florida alone, I was conquering and challenging all of the social fears I had. It was one thing to avoid any social space because of my social anxiety, but to face my fears of social spaces and do them on my own was, in Christine’s words, very empowering.

In 2022 when the world decided to “unofficially” open back up, I took advantage of the tours of the acts on my bucket list. In June 2022, I went to see the Game Grumps at the NYC stop of their tour and literally had the best time of my life by myself. They have been a YouTube duo that I’ve been watching for nearly 7 years now, so needless to say it was surreal to finally see these two in-person acting like their complete selves as if they were simply recording another episode of Game Grumps for their YouTube channel.

In October 2022, I went to see Demi Lovato while she was in NYC on her “HOLY FVCK Tour”, and when I say that was possibly the best concert I’ve been to thus far. I’ve been listening to Demi Lovato since her Disney Channel days back in 2008 and needless to say that her vocals are some of the best to come out of that generation of Disney stars. It’s been on my bucket list to hear her sing live in concert one day, and when she released her latest pop-rock-influenced album of the same name, I fell in love with it. It was only right to see her perform some of her new songs and even her pop-rock classics from back in the day and feel like I’m 14 years old again. Something was in the air that night of the concert; it was like everyone was together and having fun; dancing in their seats and singing along to the songs. I sat next to two girls who were clearly friends and even though I did not know them, the three of us danced in our row and just connected through the music that we loved and adored. Again, something that I would’ve missed out on if I was too scared to go to concerts and gatherings on my own.

It’s really my biggest goal when tackling my social anxiety; I want to be able to do things because I want to do them. If going on these solo adventures is what it takes to go and make memories by seeing the artists I admire and enjoy, then that’s exactly what I’m doing. It has taught me to go after the things I want, and speaking of which; tonight I’m going to see NMIXX in Brooklyn for their “Nice to MIXX You” Showcase! It’s funny and very ironic that I am going to the same venue where I saw another JYP girl group, ITZY, a little over 3 years ago! I’m really excited to be going to another K-pop concert on my own! K-pop concerts always give me a little more anxiety due to their nature of them (aka, they can be quite chaotic), but I’m so ready to sing and dance and see another talented group in concert

Oh, and in true Liz fashion: solo. ;D

I remember my temporary therapist asking me to describe myself in the weeks after ending a relationship in my life that made up my identity for the last decade. Well… uhm, I’m a writer. I graduated with my Master’s last year, and… uhm…

Who the hell was I? Was I only a person in other people’s shadows?

I was entering a new environment of people at a job that I got a couple of weeks ago. If I couldn’t even explain to my therapist who the hell I was, then how was I supposed to introduce myself to a group of people at my new job? Now that I reflect back on the time, did I ever truly introduce myself to my coworkers at the bookstore when I first started working there? I love to believe that I eventually was able to introduce myself properly, later on, during the time when I spent so much time on my own that I was finally existing as a standalone person, not just a shadow of someone else.

I was Liz. I was 26 years old and I just started my weight loss surgery journey. I had just gone on my first solo event to a K-pop concert; oh yeah, I was a big fan of K-pop and listened to all the 3rd-gen groups and started to introduce myself to 4th-gen idol groups. I was a K-pop collector; I bought and traded photocards to complete a collection. I was “SikLiz” in a community where people instantly knew my favorite K-pop idol was named Seungsik, and the group I loved the most was Victon. I followed new releases like I was 10 years old again listening to the Top 40 hits of the current week. I was Liz; a person who finally found a sense of identity on my own time.

…

When my therapist asked me to describe myself the other day during our session, I had to take a moment to think of an answer. Well, I work as a college assistant at my old college, I write fictional stories on my blog, I also write pen pal letters to those in the community, and I’m a K-pop fan. I also, uhm…

Who the hell am I?

Hi, my name is Liz, and I’m back in my “transitional” era. Phase.

When I talk about a transitional phase, I mean I’m in a space where I’m a little uncertain about who I am. A lot in my life has changed since I last had to ask myself who I was and what defines me as, well, me. It was a lot easier to define myself when I felt like I belonged in a community. I’m no stranger to being a part of a small community of people who shared the same interests and hobbies that also (in a way) defined them. I was a part of the community that lived solely on Twitter for The Killing, a true-crime drama that aired on television from 2011 – 2014. That community came together to fight for another season after the show got canceled after Season 3, in which a couple of months later Netflix picked up the show and gave fans a fourth and final season, closing (and answering) any lingering questions about the overall story and the characters involved. In 2020, I entered a community where I was able to connect with people that shared the same interest in Kpop and its collection aspect of it. Shortly after, I was introduced to the pen pal community, which not only gave me a creative outlet for crafting, but it allowed me to talk to new people in a low-stakes matter in ways I wouldn’t normally if done in person.

I don’t very much feel like I belong in any community right now. It doesn’t bother me that I feel that way but it has made me realize that for me, a huge element of identity comes from feeling like I fit in or belong to a community with an already established identity.

The problem with that is that being a part of a community is a temporary moment in life. You find the community when you’re interested in a particular thing, but it’s normal to leave it once you’re not interested in that particular thing anymore. Our interests and hobbies are constantly changing, and I’m realizing that I’ve allowed these communities to create this identity for me; I solely didn’t exist outside of these communities, so it’s been hard for me to stay true to myself as I transition out of these communities and discover my identity without any influence or belief that external things identify me.

I’m still trying to figure things out and I know that even this phase of my life will most likely change in the future as I get older. The thing about transitional phases is that they are constantly happening. You graduate college and have to figure out who you are outside of being a student after being one for the first 22 years of your life. You turn 26 and realize you are now closer to 30 than 20 and have to figure out what career path you desire to follow, where you want to take your social and romantic relationships, and pretty much have to decide where you want to be by the time you hit the next major milestone in your life. A lot of being in a transitional phase means that you start realizing the things that make up your identity are the intangible things; the things that you’re interested in and your hobbies are just the “DLC” to your identity.

So, hi! My name is Elizabeth, but I prefer to be called Liz because I feel like I identify as “Liz” more than my actual first name. I am experimental, but only because I now have the confidence to try things I was too afraid to try in the past. I am festive and colorful; my style is influenced by colors and patterns that were popular in the late 90s and early 2000s. My style has also been influenced by K-pop fashion, as I am a very avid K-pop listener and casual K-Pop collector. So yes, you will see me rocking platform Converse sneakers because every K-pop idol in every group has had them on at one point in their careers and I love them.

I very much embody self-love, even if people tend to see it as me being selfish. I am selfish, but I am selfish with myself. I am an empath, yet an assertive person; I listen and put myself in other people’s shoes in situations that I may not understand at first, but I will be honest and open about things if I feel like I am being talked down at or if I am not getting the same level of respect I give to people. I am loyal to my morals and beliefs, but I do not judge anyone else for contradicting ones to my own. I have social anxiety, but not the kind that is afraid of people or social gatherings; it’s the social anxiety of specific social situations like fearing what other people think of me because of my lack of social skills and how I come across when interacting with people. I also will say that a part of my social anxiety is that I avoid a lot of social situations due to my fear of confrontation and for the worst-case scenarios to happen.

On a lighter note, I am a writer. I feel like my words are the most coherent and impactful when they are written down in the form of a short poem on my phone, a blog post exposing myself in ways that I wouldn’t verbalize, in letters to pen pals, and in the form of original characters that have been created in my imagination. When everything else in my life has changed, writing has always been something that was an interest and hobby that was solely mine. I studied creative writing and writing studies when I was in school and became a first-time published scholar two years ago when I wrote an academic article about the importance of expressive writing in college classrooms.

I am self-aware, and I am constantly finding ways to better my mental and physical health as I realize by doing so, self-love and self-confidence begin to come to play. I realize that I do very much like the person I am, and I’m only trying to live my life as contact as possible because I know just how fast time flies as I get older. I am not perfect, and I know that I am still very much flawed and that I don’t make the best decisions because of those flaws. I’m growing and accepting the path of life I am currently on, and I am always wanting to learn whether it’s a new interest developing, going through a life lesson, or if it’s something that I never really knew about myself.

As long as I remember the things that truly make up me as a person, any transitional phase of life I’ll go through will be okay; it’s just another sequel of the book series waiting to be written.

I am currently writing it.

New World! Hi! We are Victon!

It was my 26th birthday, and I, unfortunately, had to go to work that day. The bus to the bookstore was pretty empty since we were currently in between our main semesters. I was listening to the few Victon songs I had on my daily playlist; songs I found through being a fan of Seungwoo’s in x1 and wanted to know more about the group he previously was in.

Victon.

Hi, my name is Liz, and my ult K-pop group, Victon, has “unofficially” disbanded.

Following the disbandment of my first ult K-pop group, X1, I found comfort in Victon during a time when I was going through a lot not only in my K-pop life but in my personal life as well. I was in a transitional period of my life, discovering the things that felt like the most authentic version of myself and understanding myself in ways that I didn’t before now that I was alone. It wasn’t a slow liking to Victon; as a matter of fact, I believe they became my top group within the month I first started to look into them. I slowly collected their albums every time I got a paycheck from my job, and slowly became a K-pop collector; Victon to be exact.

Because I was now into collecting Victon’s albums and photocards, I made the next step to put myself out in the K-pop community. I made an account for solely my K-pop-related things since I was still in this mindset that I felt some level of shame in being so heavily into K-pop at my age. To my surprise, I joined a community that I belonged in; many of us are in different age ranges like the music genre that truly doesn’t have any age limit attached to it.

I met people that I was glad to call my closest friends at this point. Through our liking of Victon, I was able to connect with people in a way that I never would connect with due to distance. I made friends from across the country, in different states, and in different countries around the world. I made connections with people that I never thought I was able to connect with due to my social anxiety, so it was a bittersweet feeling to call some of my closest friends at the time my best friends, and for the first time I had best friends that shared some of the same interests as me.

Because of Victon, I was able to move into a chapter in my life that was well-needed after closing one months earlier. I was able to learn new things about people and the environment that consisted within the community. I was now in group chats with other collectors who were looking for other trades and sales to collect their biases in a specific group. I met my best friend at the time in one of those group chats. I heavily discussed the future of Victon and the members and everything that had to do with Victon with my friends in the community. I was even one of the top Seungsik collectors in the community at the height of Victon’s success in 2020 because of the friendships I had with people in the fandom. I am no stranger to being a part of a fandom, but this one felt different. This one felt like at the time, this was who I was. I was given the nickname “SikLiz” in a community that what felt like had 5,000 other Lizes in the community. I discovered a lot about myself because of how much I loved Victon, and it was something that I carried for the last three years being in this community of collectors and fans of a group that really was just a speck within the K-pop industry.

They were never a big group. They came as the second act in a company that had a successful 2nd-generation girl group. They came on the scene during a time when K-pop was still a domestic genre of music. BTS had just started to break ground in the United States, and any new groups that were getting attention were because of the fascination (and belief) that K-pop groups that debut through a survival show were guaranteed success. During Victon’s rookie days, groups like IOI and Wanna One were the popular groups, aside from other 3rd generation groups like TWICE, Red Velvet, EXO, etc. Because Victon came from a small agency, it was unlikely that the group would get the exposure they needed to stay together, and in 2018 the group was actually in the talks of disbandment. It wasn’t until Seungwoo and Byungchan took a chance on a K-pop survival show to gain exposure and a possible second chance. It wasn’t guaranteed, but they both took the chance, which then gave them exposure to the group they were originally a part of. Even with Seungwoo being in the debut project group, X1, Victon as a group was able to make a comeback the following months after the survival show and land their first-ever music show win in three years. In hindsight, Victon were the real winners of that survival show; they successfully were getting recognized for not only their talent but their indescribable chemistry with one another. Anyone who looked into the group could catch onto that quickly; they were more than just members of a group. They were brothers. Being some of the first trainees under the small agency, the boys truly went through everything together, so watching them interact with each other in their live streams and variety shows was almost like watching family. Even when all the odds were against them, they made it together.

That same philosophy applied to our fandom, ALICE. People all over the world respected and cared for each other just because they shared an interest in the group they like and wanted what was best for the boys as much as you did. Some ALICE became friends outside of the community, learning who we were as people and what we were outside of this community. I will always be grateful for the two friends I had in this community because of that. We all shared a love for a group that meant something different to all of us. We all discovered Victon during a time when it was easy to isolate due to the pandemic keeping everyone at home for months on end. We all found each other and confined in each other at one point in our lives. Even if things are not how they used to be, I will always cherish those two friends for being a part of a chapter that kickstarted a lot of what I am today and what I believe in. These friendships weren’t always the happiest and the greatest, but when they were good they were amazing, and they truly added something to my life that I didn’t have in a long time. Even after going our separate ways, I will always thank them for being a part of my life when they were, and that we all came together without even knowing it because of Victon.

Because of Victon, I was able to find and embrace my identity. I stopped being ashamed of liking a music genre that wasn’t common here in the US, especially for people who were in their mid-twenties like me. I was able to embrace things that I normally would nitpick and second guess because they weren’t “normal” and “typical”. I was able to find an appreciation for myself once I was able to firmly tell a new group of people who I was without feeling like I was living in someone else’s shadow. Because of my love for Victon, I was able to move forward on my journey of life, learning how to fearlessly enjoy the things that make me happy, reach out and challenge my social anxiety, and make memories with old friends that you never thought you’d ever meet because of the distance.

I am who I am today due to Victon being a big part of my life, and I will forever cherish this chapter in my life.

Victon, thank you for fighting through the obstacles these last six years and always showing up for ALICE when we needed comfort. Thank you for showing us what a chosen family looked like; many of us have chosen ours through the community because of the chosen family you seven made as Victon. We can only imagine the conversations that were had and the ups and downs that each member endured behind closed doors and in their dorm. We can only imagine how difficult it was to have these conversations about the future and how you wanted to enter your 30s and what you wanted to accomplish by the time it was time to do your mandatory military service. We can only imagine the sides of Victon you didn’t want us to see because as much as we wanted to protect you, you also wanted to protect ALICE.

Thank you for all the hard work you all did while being in Victon; even if you don’t think that you’ve made a difference in people’s lives. You did, even if you may never know each and every ALICE that you did help out in their time of need or at their darkest times. You guys have done an amazing job bringing together a community of people that possibly would have never known each other. Even if you are going your separate ways to pursue different dreams and walk on different paths, we will always follow you guys wherever you guys go! Acting, solo work, or even something outside of the limelight; ALICE will be cheering you on, I mean it’s in our name: Always We Love the Voice.

Thank you, Victon, for being such a major part of my life when you were. Victon fighting! ❤

“Does it fit you?” I look down at the new outfit that came in the mail and begin to nitpick at everything about it.

“It fits, I just need to take it in a bit to make it fit better,” answered. The truth was that I didn’t know if I would ever go and get my clothes tailored to fit me better; most of the clothes that would fit me this way sat in my drawers until I was ready to donate them. “It’s cute though.”

It’s been like this for a while now. The jeans that I purchased three months ago are now too big for me. The shirts I bought for work are now too big for me. I look down at the floor where I last left my belt and begin to loop it around my jeans. Remember the days you didn’t wear belts, Liz? I look at myself in the mirror on my wall before I leave the house for the day; I remember when I didn’t like to see myself in this mirror and if I did, I wouldn’t look at my body.

When I look at it now, I don’t feel like this is my body.

Hi, my name is Liz and I sometimes experience body dysmorphia after losing 135 pounds since having surgery.

I guess you can say that this is normal for someone who’s been through this process and has struggled with their weight for most of their life. Prior to having surgery, I was overweight for most of my life. I’ve only ever seen my body get bigger as I grew older; I mean, that’s just the natural way of life. So many things factor into weight gain, especially if it’s something you always struggled with. It’s like you grow up to accept the fact that your body will look this way forever; it was something I accepted as I entered my 20s and visibly saw my weight gain as the years pass. I mention this all of the time, but this series started out as me documenting all of the moments in my life when I felt like I hated my body and the things that contributed to that hate. As I spoke about the things that factored into this self-hate towards my body, I began to accept the fact that this is my body, my skin, and the space that I live in. Shortly after, I decided it was about time to take care of the space I was living in for the long run.

I told myself as the weight began to go down that no matter what, I was still in the same body I was in back when I was 323 pounds. I was still in the same body I was in back when I was in high school being 200 pounds. I was still in the same body I was in back in middle school when the boys used to bully me for my weight. Yes, the exterior was changing and maybe how I carried myself was changing due to my change in confidence, but it wasn’t like I was an action figure and someone popped off my head and placed it on a completely different body. I still carry the scar on the top of my stomach from my gallbladder surgery 10 years ago. I still have minor scars from when I self-harmed in high school. Shit, I still have the tattoos I started to get when I was 20 years old back in 2014.

But then there are days when I look in the mirror and feel like the body I am in now isn’t the one I started with. There are days when I look at my body and consider that this time last year, or even the year before that; this isn’t me. This isn’t the person that needed to shop in online catalogs because the biggest size in other department stores was still too small for them. This isn’t the person that felt like a bad co-worker because they weren’t able to keep up with the physical work that came with being a bookseller at a bookstore. Like when people only know post-surgery Liz and say “I can’t even imagine you being anything else than who you are now”, is it bad that sometimes I’m like, “me neither?”

I remember fragments of the versions who lived in the body I once accepted. I remember some of the good and bad of those times, but what I mainly remember is how I felt about myself and the situations I was in.

I look in the mirror and remember that while I’m still learning that this is still my body in a new form, I also remember everything that this body has gone through in its lifetime. And maybe, just maybe, the reason I am who I am today and everything that I stand for now isn’t because of being in a “new body”, and maybe it isn’t even because of the “new confidence” I have because of this “new body.”

I am who I am because of my inner child. My inner teen. My inner self. All of these versions of myself are still alive in some sort: through trauma, memories, triggers, and in my chapters of life. Weight loss does not silence your past. It’s not an automatic fix to your friendships, romantic relationships, and even the relationship you have with yourself. Those things have to be worked on their own. If those things were built on a poor foundation or during a time when you thought poorly of yourself, it’s more than likely those relationships will not be the same once you start projecting your self-confidence and self-worth.

And just maybe I can finally protect my inner person because I know they deserve better.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I look at myself in the mirror as a protector of some sort. The person I look at in the mirror isn’t the same person that was looking at this same mirror almost two years ago. Mentally, I’m not. Emotionally, I’m not. Physically, I am not. But I still have the same body, skin, and space, and that’s something I will always protect since I wasn’t capable of doing that before.

Next step? Protecting my present self.

Chapter Four.

I went against wearing the summer dress I wore back in 2019 when I last saw him. Even though I doubt he remembers that this was the dress I wore with my new Converse sneakers and had just gotten my third tattoo; a hand holding a bouquet of flowers to symbolize Kelly Clarkson’s “Sober”; a song she released as a b-side on her third studio album, My December. In this particular song, she sings in the chorus, “picked all my weeds, but kept the flowers”.

On this particular day in early May, I now had a longer pixie haircut that I wore in a ponytail because we were slowly about to approach summer-like weather. I wore a blue floral maxi dress and white converse sneakers, and I was now covered in about 5 more tattoos since getting the flower tattoo in 2019. I rode the same bus that I used to ride years ago, going in the same direction I use to go in. I was nervous; I didn’t know what to expect from seeing someone that I haven’t spoken to in almost 2 years. I got off at a stop before the usual one, letting him know I was at the stop he told me he would meet me at. You got this, Liz. You are not the person you were when you last saw each other. I looked down the block and immediately recognized him. Two years older, hair a little longer, but mannerisms just how I remembered them.

“Were you waiting long?” Sounds the same. Looks the same. Feels incredibly different.

We traveled around the neighborhood, and it was our first time trying Milk Tea. He had told me that one of his favorite spots was a drinking spot called Mr. Wish. We then walked around and caught up, talking about our lives during the pandemic, where we’ve been for the last two years, and everything new for us. In some strange way, it felt like all this time has passed, but it was just how things used to be: simple.

“Tell me the meaning of your tattoos,” he asked me one night. He lifted both of my arms and began to examine the ink on them.

“Well,” I said. I didn’t really know where to start, but I started off with the last tattoo that he saw back in 2019. “This one is from a Kelly Clarkson song, in which the lyrics in it are picked all my weeds, but kept the flowers.” He turned my right arm and looked at the chemistry bottle on it.

“That’s dope,” he pointed at the ink. I looked down at it and smiled.

“That tattoo is from a song from my favorite Kpop group, the song is called The Chemistry and the group is named Victon,” I explained. “The key is also a Victon tattoo, and the carry on is from a song from my favorite member of the group, and the other members of the group wrote that song for him.” He nodded as I spoke.

“Yo, you’re really tatted up,” he smiled as he said. I laughed. I guess a lot has changed since our time apart, but even then I still felt like the same girl that used to sit in this spot back in the day. I was just older and wiser, and more mature. I was Liz, the individual; the one that had found her identity within the last year and a half up to this point. The one that had her identity together for once in her life due to space. Time. Growth. Chapters before this one.

Chapter Five.

“You will be scheduled for surgery on July 12th, 2021 at 3pm,” the surgeon called me a week before. My hair was still coated in seawater from the trip to the beach earlier that day. I began to get nervous; it was feeling surreal that the day that I prepared a year and a half for was finally becoming a reality. I had the rest of my week planned; I was wrapping up my last week of work before my medical leave, I was going to celebrate with a good friend of mine with food and drinks, and I was going to enjoy eating the foods that I would have to have to say to goodbye to for the next couple of months. The day of the surgery wasn’t smooth sailing as well. My mother was nervous for me, which made me even more nervous about my time in the operating room. My mom had to leave once I got into the OR; I was put in a wheelchair and pushed by one of the nurses down a long hallway on the fourth floor of the hospital. Once I entered the operating room, I saw the center of the large room had a single, operating table. I laughed to myself when I heard that Doja Cat’s “Kiss Me More” was playing on the radio in the operating room. I got on the table as the assistants strapped me to the table and spoke to me while they prepped everything. I remember a guy talking to the surgeon and the rest of the other doctors and nurses in the room, stating the time and day and the routine that was happening. I took a deep breath before they placed the mask over my nose and the next thing I remember was me in the recovery room, getting fed ice from one of the nurses that were assigned to me.

I remember the first time I threw up my food after having surgery. I sat on the bathroom floor; sweating, eyes closed, and possibly white in the face. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to ever eat without feeling sick to my stomach again. I wanted to so desperately eat the food that the rest of my family was eating. Sitting at the dinner table with barely anything on my plate compared to the normal-sized portions felt unreal. I would sit there ad ask myself how did I ever eat that much food on my plate before and now I can’t even eat three bites without feeling sick to my stomach? I felt my connections with family through food were now challenging; I wanted nothing more to just be treated like anyone else in the room, but now that if I were treated like everyone else here, I wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything that is served during the lunch and dinners of family gatherings.

It was like getting into a relationship with a person you didn’t know much about besides what was on the surface. You know their favorite color, their favorite food, music, age; the basic stuff; but never really knew what to do when they got sick or what they do after having a bad day at work. I felt like I was a stranger in my own body. I was learning new things my body did that it never did before, like getting full when eating certain foods or puking if I ate too fast, no matter how hungry I was before. I had to relearn body cues like I was a toddler again, knowing when it was time to stop eating the food on my plate and how many times I should be chewing my food before I swallowed. In the beginning, I questioned whether or not this decision was the best one for me.

But even in the beginning, I knew the answer to that.

Chapter Six.

I remember feeling like the walls were closing in on me even though my desk was located nowhere near the walls. I felt my face getting hot, which made me even more anxious because it was a hot summer afternoon as well. I looked around the office full of experienced co-workers that know how to do their jobs correctly. Me? I was still trying to prove myself to people who have been here for decades on end.

I saw my temporary supervisor’s office door closed; she must’ve been in a meeting since she always has her door open unless she was in an important meeting or on the phone with her teenage daughter. I have become quite comfortable walking into her office on Monday afternoons when I came in and just have a conversation with Christine. She would ask me how my weekend was and we would talk about the things that make up Liz outside of these office walls. I wasn’t one to talk about my personal life with those in the office; the age gap between me and the other ladies in the office felt too inappropriate to share my life as a 28-year-old. Some of these women have children around my age. Christine was one of the younger ladies in the office. She carried herself as someone who was highly professional, but relatable to the point where I was able to feel comfortable talking to her about the things going on in my life. On this specific day, I needed Christine to talk to me in order for me to leave my frustrations about the job at the office and not bring them home with me, as I have been doing since I started the job back in February.

I texted Christine that once she had some extra time, would it be okay to talk to her about some things. She texted me back almost immediately, telling me to come to her office. A minute later, she opened her office door and looked at me, in which I walked to her office and closed the door behind me.

The conversations in Christine’s office melt in my mind, as they happened frequently when she was my temporary supervisor. We spoke about concerns regarding the transcript area and our vendor that distributes the transcripts. We spoke about the new policies that were being enforced for students and instructors wishing to extend their deadlines to submit coursework for a letter grade at the end of the semester. We spoke about how to do things that I wasn’t properly trained in when my former supervisor was in the office. Lastly, we spoke about things that I never imagined talking to someone at the office about, like my friend group, my weight loss surgery journey, and my family; again, things that make Liz “Liz” when she’s not a college assistant from 12 to 5 on the weekdays. Christine opened up about things that someone my age wouldn’t be able to handle; to be honest, it was things that someone in their late twenties wouldn’t really experience unless you had the experience prior, y’know? It was interesting to hear her comparisons to the things she experienced to what I’m experiencing.

I guess it added to this feeling that Christine was seriously just an older version of me in a way. Sure, we were vastly different, but the way that we thought and handled things were freakishly alike, especially when it came to doing things at the job. It was comforting to hear Christine’s College Assistant story; she was the youngest in the office when she started and sat at the desk that I currently sit at, directly across the Historical Records supervisor’s office. She told me how she kept to herself for most of her days, and how at the beginning, she was also thrown into different areas at the office because her supervisor (who was my old supervisor at one point) saw potential in her abilities.

“I didn’t understand why I was getting placed in areas that I didn’t know much about, and that used to cause me such great anxiety. I thought was I even a good enough worker if I made mistakes in the areas I wasn’t familiar with. I thought, ‘well if they trust me to work on this, then I must be good at it and get it right on my first time. I didn’t understand that I was learning all these different areas because my supervisor saw that I was able to work on these different things. She saw potential and value in me, and it took me until I was able to apply for other areas in Registration to realize that. I will let you in on this reminder: people around here take mental notes, and they are seeing just how great you are in the work that you are given and the potential to become an asset in this office, or any office that you decide to transfer to in the future.”

I cried in her office more times than I can count. As a matter of fact, I’ve cried a lot in front of Christine, ad I was always grateful that she made me feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable like that. If it wasn’t for Christine’s support and encouragement in the time she was my temporary supervisor, I wouldn’t have stayed at the job. I would’ve given up and decided that maybe being in academia wasn’t what I really wanted to do. Talking to another co-worker of mine in records, Shelley, I told her that reflecting on the year I was here, Christine was really the one that taught me everything that I knew. It wasn’t until I realized the truth in that statement: she gave me confidence by supporting me at the job. I truly wouldn’t be where I am currently in the office if it wasn’t for Christine. This chapter of a new job and having to reevaluate my worth as a good worker after being a good worker at a different job took a toll on me. This chapter taught me that with the right guidance and support, everything difficult or challenging is a piece of cake.

Chapter Seven.

I am not the girl I was at the beginning of my chapters; in fact, those chapters feel like the first book of a trilogy of chapters depicting what my twenties were like. Maybe it’s because my thirties begin in less than a year from now; all of the things I loved or did or tolerated were different now. Some will say that my weight loss changed me; maybe I was now more of a selfish person than I was before. Maybe I allowed my weight loss to change me as a person.

Or maybe I was just transitioning into a different person, which requires me to change as a person.

I realized that there’s no possible way to stop your chapters from happening. I guess nothing lasts forever but at the end of the day, you’re left with just yourself and your chapters that make up the person you are. Chapters indicate progression; you flip the pages of the book and read through chapter by chapter to get the gist of what the entire story is about.

Chapter seven will be a challenging one. Chapter seven has already made me see things differently and lose a lot of people along the way because of my new views. Chapter seven is just the beginning of the end; the end of the 20s era that will shape how I enter my 30s in 10 months. I am currently writing my chapter seven; the armageddon, the climax, the first episode of the finale!

And eventually, chapter one of 30 will come to be because of it.

Cathy found it fascinating how I measure my progress by leaving markers.

I told her one Friday morning during our video call therapy session that I was afraid of 2023 turning into a year where I lost all the progress I’ve made. I was already entering the year with some challenges, and I was foolish for thinking the turning of a new year would ease those challenges. So I expressed this to Cathy, to let her know I had this unsettling feeling that my progress would not continue to be linear; the way that it was last year.

She told me she had never heard someone use years to measure progress. “It’s like you leave markers that you refer back to. You take those markers and they define your progress, but why not take ownership of the progress instead and not let time do that?”

How do I not honor those markers that have shaped me in this exact moment?

I am who I am because of 18-year-old Liz. She’s a version of myself I still try to protect because I remember her lowest of lows; when she truly felt alone. A part of that outcome was simply the fact she made dumb decisions, and she paid for those consequences. But, she also let all of those people walk all over her, and she tried her best to not let it get to her. But it did. She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. She deemed herself a horrible person that deserved the worst to happen to her.

“Is that what you tell people when they ask what made you who you are today?” Yes.

I also mention grad school Liz; the 22 to 24-year-old women that tell the story about how they entered grad school with everything they ever wanted and left it as an outpatient at our local behavioral health clinic. I think back and remember sitting in the college’s library one night reading 100 pages the night before one of my classes, crying because I felt so anxious beyond repair that I thought about dropping out a semester before graduating. It was the first time I experienced what it was like to not take care of myself due to academics. I was so use to putting physical, living and breathing humans before myself; even that was easier to grasp than the fact that my studies was what was making my mental health deteriorate. It was the first time I told my doctor that I needed to seek out therapy and that I was not okay.

“And for you, what does this marker mean to you? What does it symbolize?” How I began my journey to understand myself deeper and relearn who I was as a person.

Cathy pointed out at that exact moment that even this journey was never linear. “Even with therapy, understanding and unlearning all the behavior is never linear.”

I was 25-years-old when I decided I needed to walk away from a person that defined most of my teenaged and young adult years. I remember crying the night before in my kitchen on the phone at 1 in the morning, knowing I was starting my first ever job the following morning. I wanted to die. I felt my heart ripping. I was losing a part of myself; my identity. But I was letting go of an identity that I could not identify with anymore. I needed to find myself after years of living behind other people. That’s a mother’s daughter. A sibling’s sister. Another girlfriend’s side chick. A person’s disposable friend. Up to this point, I was never just Liz; I was whoever people wanted me to be.

“Is that the marker you’ve placed where you decided to find yourself and honor yourself?” Not exactly. I mean. I’ve had ups and downs with people even after that so—

“Exactly.”

I had weight loss surgery when I was 27 years old. There was a moment I had the night before where I saw myself in the mirror for a couple of minutes. Sure, tomorrow I will still look the same and feel the same, but I knew that the next day would be the start of the physical changes to come. My face will not be as round anymore. My collarbones will pop out. I will drop down clothing sizes more than I could ever imagine myself dropping to. It was this butterfly effect once I made my choices. I was able to change my life because of my choices. Up to this point, I was able to make my own choices and live by my choices.

“So your markers are of all of the choices you’ve made throughout your life?”

My markers are my choices.

I continue to choose my path whether or not they were good or bad. My choices in 2012 are the result of what I experienced when I was 18. My choices in 2017 are the result of what I experienced when I was 23. My choices in 2019 are the result of what I experienced when I was 25. My choices in 2021 are the result of what I experienced when I was 27.

The choices I make now in 2023 will be the result of what I experience while I am 29.

My choices have left me alone at one point in my life; I realized that when I sat by myself at our school’s talent show where all of my former friends sat together in one spot in the auditorium. My choices led me to understand my mental heath after years of feeling like something was legit wrong with me. My choices led me to take care of myself, whether or not I need to define myself, reinvent myself, and honor myself.

Hi, my name is Liz and my measure of progress is leaving markers; typically of my choices.