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Thursday, December 30, 2021


One time I sat down and wrote 100 goals that I wanted to complete in 1000 days. It's somewhere on this site. 

After my diagnosis, I became a goal making machine. And then I learned that I don't complete most goals.

But goals change. I remember one from my list of 100 was to fly in a hot air balloon. While I'd still love to do that, it never happened.

When I was in physical therapy to learn to walk again, they asked me what my goal was of physical therapy, and I think about this one a lot. It was to be able to take a basket of laundry down and up the stairs in my house. My goal was to do laundry. 

When I think about the goals I want to make for this next year, I'm blank. Checking things off of a list doesn't feel the same as it used to. 

I don't know if it should be a goal to change my thinking, but it's a work in progress. I want to repair my relationship with food. I want to unfuck my brain from all of the limits and rules I've been taught without even realizing it. I'm tired of not eating things I enjoy because they're "bad". I'm tired of a device telling me that I've gone over my allotted calories for the day. I'm tired of thinking I have to be thin to be happy. 

I don't want to think like that anymore. I feel like in the past four years, I've done enough. I've gotten a chronic illness that I'll never get rid of. 

Apps can be deleted from my phone. MS can't be deleted from my body. 

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