Growth Beyond Obstacles

The Seed of Change

Growth is such a strange thing. Sometimes it feels like it’s happening in slow motion—like watching grass grow—and other times it hits you all at once, leaving you wondering how you ever lived the way you used to. For me, my journey didn’t start in the moment I stepped into the operating room for bariatric surgery. It didn’t even start the day I decided to have the surgery.

It started long before that—in the quiet, uncomfortable moments where I realized I wasn’t truly living. I was surviving. I was doing the bare minimum to get through each day, hiding behind excuses, wearing oversized clothes not just to cover my body, but to cover the parts of me I didn’t want to deal with. I kept telling myself I’d get “serious” about my health next week… next month… next year. But the truth? There was never going to be a “right” time.

The seed of change for me came when I finally admitted I didn’t just want to lose weight—I wanted to find myself again. That’s the part no one talks about when they talk about growth. It’s not just about getting smaller physically; it’s about expanding in every other way—mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

When I saw the comment on my blog asking what advice I’d give to someone hesitant about bariatric surgery, I felt it deep in my chest. Because I know that hesitation. I’ve lived in that space of “What if?” What if people judge me? What if I fail? What if I regret it?

But here’s the thing I’ve learned: hesitation is often a sign you care deeply about the decision you’re making. It means you’re aware this will change everything. And yes—it will. But what you gain isn’t just physical transformation. It’s the opportunity to grow into the version of yourself you’ve been longing to meet.

This isn’t a quick fix. This is a lifetime commitment to yourself. And growth… well, it’s messy, unpredictable, and so worth it.

Understanding Growth Beyond the Scale

If you’re only looking at bariatric surgery as a way to lose weight, you’re only seeing a fraction of the picture. Yes, the scale will change. Yes, your clothes will fit differently. But the real growth? It happens in the spaces you can’t measure with numbers.

Before surgery, I thought success would be about how quickly I could drop pounds. I thought that once I got to a certain weight, everything would just click into place. But here’s the reality no one prepares you for: when your body starts to change, your mind still has to catch up.

Growth beyond the scale meant facing the emotional eating habits I had ignored for years. It meant dealing with the discomfort of no longer being able to use food as my go-to comfort. It meant learning to sit with feelings I used to push down with snacks, meals, and takeout orders. That’s not easy work. It’s uncomfortable. It’s raw. It’s the kind of work no one sees when they look at your “after” photo.

It also meant rediscovering joy in things I had long avoided. Walking into a store and being able to try on clothes without holding my breath in the dressing room. Going for a walk and realizing I wasn’t winded after five minutes. Saying “yes” to things I used to avoid because I didn’t want to be the “big girl” in the room.

The truth is, growth in this journey has nothing to do with being perfect. There are days I feel strong and confident, and days I feel like I’m right back at square one. But every day, I am still moving forward—still becoming.

And that’s the point. Bariatric surgery is not the end of the road. It’s the start of a new one. And if you’re hesitant, know this: the scale will tell part of your story, but the most beautiful parts of growth will never be found in a number. They’ll be found in the way you speak to yourself, the way you show up for your own life, and the way you finally start living instead of just existing.

Breaking Down Misconceptions

When I first started talking about bariatric surgery, I learned something really quickly: people will have a lot to say about a choice that has nothing to do with them.

Some of it came from love—people who genuinely wanted me to be safe and healthy. But a lot of it came from assumptions, stereotypes, and plain old misinformation. And if I’m being honest, in the beginning, I let some of those voices get in my head. They made me second-guess myself, my decision, and my ability to follow through.

Here are a few of the biggest misconceptions I ran into—and the truths I had to hold onto:

Misconception #1: “It’s the easy way out.”

This one still makes me shake my head. There is nothing “easy” about choosing to have your stomach surgically altered, knowing that for the rest of your life, you’ll have to relearn how to eat, drink, move, and manage your health. Bariatric surgery isn’t a shortcut—it’s a tool. And like any tool, it only works if you commit to using it properly. The surgery doesn’t do the work for you. You still have to show up for yourself, day after day, long after the initial weight loss slows down.

Misconception #2: “You’ll never be able to enjoy food again.”

I used to believe this one myself. But here’s the truth—yes, your relationship with food changes. You might not be able to eat the same quantities, and certain foods might not feel good anymore. But what you gain is the ability to enjoy food without the guilt, shame, or physical pain that came with overeating before. You start savoring smaller portions, appreciating flavors, and realizing that enjoyment doesn’t have to mean excess.

Misconception #3: “You’re going to look unrecognizable—and not in a good way.”

Loose skin, facial changes, shifting body proportions—these are all real parts of the journey. And yes, they can be hard to accept. But I learned to see them as evidence of my hard work, not something to hide. This body tells my story. Every scar, every wrinkle, every change is proof of the battles I’ve fought to get here.

Misconception #4: “You’re taking the selfish route.”

Some people think making such a big change for yourself is selfish. But I’ve learned that taking care of myself isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. You can’t show up fully for your family, friends, work, or life if you’re constantly running on empty. Choosing surgery was choosing to give myself a future I could actually enjoy.

When you’re faced with these misconceptions, it’s easy to feel defensive or defeated. But the truth is, you don’t owe anyone a full explanation for your decision. You don’t have to justify the way you choose to save your own life. The people who truly care will support you, and the rest? Well… they don’t get a vote.

The Inner Work Before Surgery

Before I ever signed a single piece of paperwork or scheduled my surgery date, I had to face myself. And I don’t mean the version of me I showed the world—I mean the quiet, unfiltered version I only saw when I was completely alone.

The truth is, bariatric surgery will change your stomach in a matter of hours, but the real work happens in your mind long before you’re ever wheeled into that operating room. You have to be willing to unpack years—sometimes decades—of habits, coping mechanisms, and stories you’ve told yourself about who you are.

For me, that meant getting brutally honest about my relationship with food. I wasn’t just “a foodie.” I was someone who used food as my comfort, my distraction, my reward, and sometimes even my punishment. Food was the constant that never let me down—until it started to.

I had to start therapy to untangle the emotions behind my eating patterns. I journaled about the moments I felt triggered to overeat, the situations that left me reaching for something to numb the stress or sadness. It wasn’t easy to write those things down, but it was necessary.

I also had to build a support system before the surgery, because here’s something people don’t tell you: you cannot do this alone. You need people who understand your goals, respect your boundaries, and are willing to cheer you on when the work gets hard. That doesn’t mean everyone in your life will get it—some won’t, and that’s okay. But find your people. Whether it’s a friend, a partner, an online support group, or a mentor—surround yourself with voices that keep you grounded.

Doing the inner work before surgery gave me the mental resilience to handle the changes afterward. It didn’t make it easy, but it made it possible.

Advice for the Hesitant Heart

To the person who’s sitting in hesitation right now—wondering if they should take this step—I see you. I was you. I remember lying awake at night with a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. What if I failed? What if I regretted it? What if I changed so much that I didn’t recognize myself anymore?

Here’s the advice I wish someone had given me when I was in your shoes:

1. Stop asking for permission.

The only person who has to live in your body is you. Not your friends, not your family, not your coworkers. If you feel in your heart that this is what you need to reclaim your health and your life, that’s enough reason to move forward.

2. Get your facts from reliable sources.

The internet is full of horror stories and myths that will scare you into staying the same. Look for medical professionals, trusted patient advocates, and people who have lived this journey—not just random opinions.

3. Know your “why.”

Your “why” will carry you through the hard days. It has to be deeper than just wanting to fit into smaller clothes. My “why” was wanting to live a long, active life where I could be fully present—not exhausted, not hiding, not wishing I was someone else.

4. Prepare for the mental shift.

This journey is as much about your mind as it is about your body. Therapy, support groups, and journaling will help you process the emotions that come with such a big change.

5. Don’t wait for the fear to go away.

Fear doesn’t vanish before you make a life-changing decision—it comes with you. The key is to move forward with the fear, trusting that you’ll grow into the person who can handle what’s ahead.

I can’t promise you this journey will be easy. In fact, I can promise you it will test you in ways you didn’t expect. But I can also promise that it will grow you—in strength, in self-respect, in joy—if you’re willing to show up for yourself every single day.

Reflections on Growth

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this journey, it’s that growth doesn’t happen in the spotlight. It happens in the small, unglamorous moments—when you choose water over soda, when you walk even though you’re tired, when you sit with your emotions instead of numbing them with food.

Bariatric surgery was the catalyst for my transformation, but it wasn’t the whole story. The real story is in how I’ve rebuilt my life piece by piece, learning patience when I wanted speed, resilience when I felt weak, and self-compassion when I slipped up.

To the person who’s hesitant, sitting there wondering if they can really do this—my advice is this: start by getting quiet and listening to your own voice. Not the internet, not the people who’ve never walked this road, not the fear that’s trying to hold you back. Listen to you.

Ask yourself:

What kind of life do I want a year from now? What’s stopping me from starting today? Am I ready to commit to myself, not just for the surgery, but for every day after?

If the answer is yes—even a scared, shaky yes—then know this: you can navigate this journey with confidence and resilience. Not because it will be easy, but because you will grow stronger in every way that matters.

Growth isn’t about becoming perfect. It’s about becoming you, in the fullest, healthiest, most unapologetic version possible. And that’s worth every step.