Can we talk about how defeating it feels to need a mobility aid before you’re even “officially old”? I about cried today when my husband and son made a simple joke. They didn’t mean any harm, but it hit deeper than I expected.

Truth is, I’ve been fighting the idea of using one since 2015 — nearly ten years of stubbornly pushing through, convincing myself I could manage without it. Ten years is a long time to keep up that fight, if you ask me. It’s not just about the physical support; it’s about the mental and emotional struggles that come with it.

But today, it came down to this: Use the cane and slow down, or skip it and be in far more pain by the end of the day. It felt like a one-way street with no easy exit. So, I sucked it up and used it — because I’m tired of pretending I don’t need the help. It’s a step toward self-acceptance that I’ve been delaying for far too long.

Even with the 53 pounds I’ve lost (and still going), some days are just… painful. The thoracic MRI I had recently sent me into a flare-up, and I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that when it hits, I simply can’t stand for very long. It’s a bitter realization that no amount of weight loss can entirely alleviate the physical challenges I face.

Yesterday I was doing better until I stood in a parking lot for about 15 minutes talking about the rescued foster dogs — and by the time I got home, I was in tears from the pain. How cruel it is to enjoy a moment only to be reminded of your limitations.

So here I am, somewhere between gratitude and grief — grateful that tools exist to help me move through the world, but grieving the version of myself that didn’t need them. It’s a complex mix of emotions that clashes in my heart and mind. The memories of my independent self linger while I navigate the assisted version of my reality.

Learning to accept that balance is humbling… and honestly, it’s hard. It’s challenging to reconcile who I was with who I am now, and the struggle to embrace this new identity can feel overwhelming at times. The societal pressures and stigmas surrounding mobility aids don’t make it any easier, often leaving me feeling isolated.

If you’ve been here too — learning to let go of that last bit of resistance and choose comfort over pride — I see you. 💜 We are navigating uncharted waters, reminding ourselves that seeking help is not a sign of weakness, but rather an act of self-love and acknowledgment of our own limits. Together, we can continue to find strength in vulnerability.

Much love and many blessings,
Mrs. B