Inside My Own Current Practice of Courage: Part II

from my unfiltered heart to yours — messy, sweaty, pre-op smiles

Dear You,

To accept something fully is not to surrender to it—it is to release the illusion that fighting reality will change it.

And oh, how I fought.

I fought against the heaviness, against the way my body reshaped itself beyond my control, against the quiet grief that settled in my bones as I watched the life I thought I’d have slip further and further away.

But in fighting, I only exhausted myself.

I only deepened the ache.

Nothing can change until we first accept what is. Not as resignation, not as defeat, but as the moment we unclench our fists and say—this is real.

This is here. And now, I decide what I do with it.

Lipedema is not all of me. It does not define the breadth of my spirit or the boundlessness of my love. But it is part of my path, and I honor the truth of its presence. It has carved a terrain through my life and skin that I did not choose, yet I have chosen to walk it anyway—with strength, with wisdom, with an unrelenting belief that I am still—and always—free.

This fifth surgery turns back the tide of this disease’s aggression, but it does not cure it. I will continue to live with lipedema. And so, I choose. I choose care—compression, movement, nourishment, breath. I choose love—deep, unwavering, directed toward myself and this body that still carries & anchors me. I choose presence—the ability to fully inhabit this moment—this life—without waiting for a different one to begin.

Acceptance is not the end of hope. It is the beginning of liberation.

It is the moment we stop waging war against what is and instead turn toward it, asking: What now? What power remains in my hands? How do I step forward, not in spite of this, but alongside it?

So here I stand, knee-deep in recovery, not as someone who has given up, but as someone who has finally let go. And in letting go, I have found the kind of freedom that nothing—not even lipedema—can take from me.

Look closely—what is your version of lipedema?

The thing that is quietly, insidiously shackling you? What feels like it’s slowly suffocating your spirit even if it once started as something glorious, something that perhaps felt so damn good?

What would change if, instead of fighting it, you met the reality of it with the open hands of acceptance? If you asked not how to erase it or alter it, but how to rise alongside it? To reclaim yourself beyond it?

You are not powerless in this. You never have been.

You are more vast than your struggles, more luminous than your pain, and stronger than you’ve ever been told. You are the hero of your own story, friend, and I see you—standing at the edge of something new. Something asking of every ounce of courage you don’t yet believe you possess. And something that has been waiting for you all along.

Step forward. The world needs the you who is free.

With you in this practice,

Practice Postscript

• The Reflection:

  What is the thing in your life that you have been resisting, that—if you met it with acceptance—could become a path to your own liberation?

• The Everyday Practice:

  Instead of asking, "How do I manage this?" try asking, "How do I move forward with this?" Notice how your energy shifts when you approach your challenge from a place of power rather than resistance.

• The Question to Carry Forward:

  What remains in my hands, no matter what I face?