My mind immediately raced through my changing blood pressure medications, the water weight, my fluctuating A1C. Suddenly, I was exhausted and felt the beginning of a hot flash overtaking my body.

I sat on the edge of the bed to gather myself. I took a deep breath, stood up, and put on the dress.

It did not.

I could get it on, but it didn't fall the way I remembered. It pulled in places where it had once moved easily. I turned sideways in the mirror, adjusted it, pulled at the fabric, and tried to convince myself that it was fine.

It was too late to change my mind about going. Everyone was already getting dressed. I had said I would be there, and there were people to greet, children to keep up with, and family obligations that existed whether I felt comfortable in my clothes or not.

So I went.

When the pictures started, I moved toward the back.

Someone called my name and told me to come closer. Someone else lifted a phone and said,

"Everybody get in."

I smiled, but I was already thinking about where the picture might be posted.

For years, I had avoided people I knew from high school, college, and former jobs. I did not want them to see me because even I didn't recognize myself. The woman I had always recognized was no longer looking back at me. 

That was the part I couldn't explain to myself at the time.

I was still me. I was still the woman everyone expected to show up, greet the family, keep things moving, and make sure everyone else was all right. 

Smiling.

But when I looked in the mirror, I kept asking myself:

What is happening to me?

My body demanded so much of my attention.

Before I accepted an invitation, I thought about what I was going to wear.

Before I sat down, I noticed the chair.

Before someone reached for a camera, I was already looking for a place to stand where I wouldn't be noticed.

I wasn't living the experience.

I was managing my body through it.

I didn't realize how much space that occupied until after I began to let it go. One day. At a time.

Suddenly, I realized I was thinking about where I was going instead of how I was going to look when I got there.

I noticed I was making plans again.

I was thinking about work. Travel. Getting stronger and the kind of life I wanted to build.

 For me, that opening came through GLP-1.

It gave me enough room to think about something other than my body.

For someone else, the opening may come from a different place.

The opening is what matters.

Life is no longer consumed by one problem.

You begin asking different questions.

Where do I want to go?

Do I even like this?

What do I want my life to look like?

Whose opinion have I been living under?

Those questions changed my decisions.

I started saying yes to invitations, even from people I really didn't like, just to give myself the experience of being out. Once I got there, I made my own path. I introduced myself to the people I found interesting, laughed, and left when I felt like it.

I walked the canal in the early mornings, during the coolest part of the day, because I wanted stronger legs.

I began building my business again.

I paid attention to my home. I got rid of the things that no longer served the vision I had for my life.

I found myself looking at beautiful shoes, travel destinations, books, and ideas with genuine interest.

I realized I was looking forward instead of looking down.

That surprised me.

Those parts of me had been there all along.

They had simply been waiting for enough room to return.

Freedom began when I started trusting myself again.

GLP-1 gave me an opening.

What I chose to do with that opening became my responsibility.

The woman is the engine.

GLP-1 was the gas.

It gave me enough movement to begin.

The decisions were still mine.

I decided to get stronger.

I decided to build my business.

I decided to travel.

I decided to stop putting my life on hold.

Today, I think about health differently.

I think about having the energy to enjoy my grandson.

I think about walking farther, feeling strong, the places I want to see.

I think about work that matters.

I think about the woman I see in the mirror.

She isn't perfect.

She doesn't need to be.

She knows herself correctly.

She trusts herself enough to make decisions that reflect the life she wants.

That is where freedom began for me.

And that is why this magazine exists.

It is about the decisions a woman begins making once she starts trusting herself again.