The Transformation of the Fat Girl


transformation

“If you’ve been fat, you will always feel and see the world as a fat person; you know how difficult it is… It’s the same coming from a working-class background… it never leaves you.”
― Caitlin Moran, Moranthology

Living my life as a fat person has been the hardest of all the challenges I have encountered. Overcoming emotional abuse and the dysfunctions of my childhood pale in comparison to my struggles of self-acceptance and finding a place of self-love that transcends what I look like. My existence has been marked by a shame spiral that circulates between my humiliation over my weight and the weight of the shame that holds me back from tackling my problem. My strategy has been to overcompensate for my largesse by trying to distract people from really seeing me. Humor and intelligence, accomplishments and pleasing are some of the sharpest tools in my bag of tricks. Yet, every day I have looked in the mirror and focused in on my fears about what people would see and how what they see might influence how they perceive me. My goal was always to find a plan to shield them from what I internalized as ugliness. What looks back in the mirror at me is viewed, by me, as an abnormality – a misfit who is unacceptable and, surely, unworthy of love. When I reflect on all the struggles throughout my life and the darkness that has lurked so deep within me, I know the truth is that my weight helps to keep perpetuating the pain and reinforcing the message that I have been running to escape – no one will love me.

This is not a new story for me but, like everything else in my life, it has shifted as my life has evolved. As we work through our challenges and commit to improvements, we have to keep diving deeper to study the roots of our emotional baggage. There are layers of experiences and pain that have resulted in our current selves and, sometimes, what looks to be the source matter is, in fact, just a projection, distracting us from the more painful reality that is out of our reach. My relationship with myself and my journey of self-acceptance has finally led me to here and now I have the space to explore this deep and secluded area of myself. All the work I have done to move past the traumas and deep scarring pain has led me to this place. I know, with certainty, that this is the final frontier and truly the last piece of the puzzle for me. Around the corner, I can see peace and love and acceptance but first I need to confront the darkest core of my soul and unlock the safe where I keep all the shame that plagues me.

Despite all of the unpleasantries that have marked my difficult life, my weight has, hands down, caused me the most pain and has most held me back from being the person I always believed I could be. That simple acknowledgement causes me even more shame and discomfort because it feels like failure. Hiding behind my weight feels like I’m using a lame excuse to cloak and protect myself from the heavy lifting required to live an authentic life. So, when I decided to write this blog, I had to be metaphorically ready to stand in the middle of Times Square, fully naked, with the words “I am fat” tattooed across my stomach. And I had to be comfortable with everything that came along with that. Alright then. Here I stand. And, for the record, I am really not comfortable at all. Give me what you’ve got. I can take it as it is all part of the process.

To be clear, I have travelled a long road to where I am today and I’m confident that I’m close to reaching a destination that feels awfully good but, in order to get through the final leg of this journey and ensure my admittance to the Emerald City, I need to confront the truths of how I got to where I was. I have had to burrow down a bit further to understand the roots of my weight issues. And, most importantly, I have to step out into the light and acknowledge who I have been and who I am becoming today.

I had a deeply traumatic childhood, riddled with emotional abuse and abandonment. Food served as an emotional pacifier for me, providing a salve for my wounds and serving as a stand-in for the love that was so painfully withheld. I can intellectually lay that out on the table and I grieve for that young girl who was so tortured as she sneakily comforted herself with cake and cookies. The most distant element of my battle – the part I struggle to wrap my brain around – is the emotional understanding that would afford me a level of self-acceptance. For me, while the truths behind my addiction to food are abundantly clear, there has been no absorption of this deep in my psyche and I have continued to abuse myself by reinforcing the disappointment and shame. Over the years, I have read stories about people who have lost large amounts of weight, only to swiftly gain the weight back because they never addressed the underlying pain that resulted in them gaining or maintaining their excessive weight. They were incapable of making the mental adjustments necessary to see themselves as anything but the overweight person they were. For me, being fat is what I know. It is, quite frankly, synonymous with me. I cannot imagine a world where I am not a fat person. Yet, for the first time in my 48 years of life, that might be the case.

I have had a private and dysfunctional relationship with food. Food has been my best friend and worst enemy. I am not one of those people who loves to eat but, instead, I eat to soothe. For me, eating has always been a private affair. I would eat late at night or when no one was looking. Even after I was married, I would quietly slip downstairs after my husband was asleep and pour myself a bowl of cereal or fill a large bowl with ice cream and tiptoe back upstairs, eating the food quietly, hoping my husband would not wake up and find me.  Or, I would wrap a sleeve of cookies into a napkin and pour a glass of milk, feeling my anxiety and sadness slip away as the sugar made its way into my bloodstream. This was my heroin. I could numb myself standing in the darkness of my nighttime kitchen, flooded by the light of the open refrigerator, shoving leftovers into my mouth, silently hating myself with each bite. I would lay in bed at night thinking only of the food that called out to me from downstairs.  I needed to fill the bullet holes left behind from the massive assault I experienced throughout my childhood and young adult years. Food was a bandage that stopped the bleeding but, of course, couldn’t ward off the infection that was inevitable for I never dealt with the underlying disease. What has been hard for me to accept and absorb is that, as I grew older, I was creating more holes by repeating this cycle. No one was hurting me anymore except for me.  Food became my drug of choice and my weight became my weapon of choice.

Alarmingly, my food addiction and associated weight issues became a comfortable place and I used them as a way to distance myself from the rest of the world. Despite my desire to have intimacy and close relationships, I spent my life living life on the fringe, withholding myself from others.  I could more easily tolerate my disruptive upbringing by letting my weight be what distanced me from the rest of the world. Being fat meant that I lived outside of the mainstream and I didn’t have to address the loneliness left from the abandonment and loss of family. When I struggled with dating when I was younger, I would always blame it on my size. All I could see was an ugly girl who grew into an even uglier woman. I believed what my mother and sister told me for years (as an encouragement to lose weight) that no man would ever date me if I was fat. Instead of looking at my emotional dysfunction, I would focus my disappointment on my weight and neatly distance myself from the realities of having to engage in an emotionally mature relationship. While I can never deny that living outside of the lines of conventional beauty is challenging, I never had the emotional maturity to understand that I had the ability to emanate beauty from a different place and could attract love just as easily as my more traditionally attractive friends. Instead, even when I met my husband, I quickly attempted to pawn him off on my more attractive friends because I never believed he could sustain an attraction or love towards me because I didn’t fit the part. I was really fucked up. Focusing on the fat meant I never needed to zero in on the truths that I was too scared to face which was that I wasn’t sure if I could emotionally endure an intimate relationship with anyone.

“Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that’s why it’s come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It’s a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining fully functional, because you have to. Fat people aren’t indulging in the “luxury” of their addiction making them useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead, they are slowly self-destructing in a way that doesn’t inconvenience anyone. And that’s why it’s so often a woman’s addiction of choice. All the quietly eating mums. All the KitKats in office drawers. All the unhappy moments, late at night, caught only in the fridge light.”
― Caitlin Moran, How to Be a Woman

I have often believed that it was some type of miracle that afforded me the opportunity to secure myself a husband and, rather than using that as evidence of my worthiness, my self loathing deepened even more over the years. As a result, I found myself moving further away from a sense of normalcy and deeper into a dark cave of loneliness and depression, padded with humiliation. Over the past 25 years I have gained and lost weight, never achieving any significant results and, like most yo-yo dieters, adding more weight in the end.  I would secretly attend Weight Watchers meetings or try fad diets, never admitting to anyone what I was doing. There was some twisted part of me that believed if I never told anyone that I was on a diet, they wouldn’t notice that I needed to be. While all I saw was fat and all I believed that anyone else ever saw was fat, I worked tirelessly to hide it.  My life was a costume party with me donning disguises to mask the truth. I think I was the only one I was fooling.

I endured myriad struggles. I could never really shop with my friends.  I’d go to stores and pretend that nothing was of interest to me and then secretly shop on my own. I could never admit that I was relegated to the plus size departments. Shame. No one could ever know my size. Shame. Perhaps the most humiliating experience came when I should have felt most beautiful. After I was engaged, my girlfriends wanted to shop with me for my wedding dress and all I could think was how dreadful that seemed. I couldn’t bear them knowing the truth about my size. I was dying on the inside as the seamstress took my measurements and announced to the group that I would need a size 18 dress. There was no place for me to hide and I averted their eyes in fear that they would judge me. It has taken me a long time to understand that my real fear was that they would stop loving me because I secretly believed that my weight was to blame for my family’s lack of acceptance of who I was. So much bigness wrapped up in that small little word. FAT.

When I was pregnant, I struggled to find maternity clothes in my size. I found plus size shops and purchased whatever I could find to fit my rapidly growing body. I was disappointed to not have the cute outfits I saw my friends wearing and tried to create looks that would emulate theirs. During my pregnancies I couldn’t wait until my stomach got so large that there was no question as to whether or not I was just that fat or, in fact, I had a baby in my belly. I never experienced that exuberance of “popping” like so many of my girlfriends did.  Well, I knew that I had popped but it was months before anyone could see the protrusion of my uterus beyond my otherwise thick belly.

“We fatties have a bond, dude. It’s like a secret society. We got all kinds of shit you don’t know about. Handshakes, special fat people dances-we got these secret fugging lairs in the center of the earth and we go down there in the middle of the night when all the skinny kids are sleeping and eat cake and friend chicken and shit. Why d’you think Hollis is still sleeping, kafir? Because we were up all night in the secret lair injecting butter frosting into our veins. …A fatty trusts another fatty.
― John Green, An Abundance of Katherines

To further cover myself, I often avoided hanging around other fat people, choosing instead to surround myself with the most attractive people I could find. I had this twisted perception that I would stand out less as the one fat person in the group because I would be overshadowed by all the beautiful people. It felt like I could become invisible in this group. This served to be an even more painful version of torture because it was a constant reminder of how much I was not like those around me. All I focused on was what people looked like and I berated myself for not being able to look “normal.” I moved so far away from the core of who I am and neglected the parts of me that most needed my love. The recording in my mind was repeating hatred and disgust, pushing me further and further down. And, even worse, my existence became even more solitary because I never had anyone with whom to share my struggle. When I was finally ready to confront my truth, I realized that no one around me really understood my challenges or could relate to what I was going through. I had distanced myself from anyone who looked like me and stood alone. No one I knew understood what it meant to have this branding from early in their life. No one shared my identity that was marked by only one characteristic – FAT. When I was finally ready to broach the subject, I didn’t know how to openly discuss my feelings about my size. So, the first time I publicly confronted these emotions was about two years ago in my blog. To an anonymous audience, I revealed the secret truth about how I looked at myself and, for the first time, acknowledged how much my weight influenced how I traveled in the world.

In the beginning of 2011, I hit bottom. I am not sure how much I weighed at the time but I know I had ballooned past 280 lbs. (When I weighed myself for the first time after I started working out, that became my starting point. Yet, I’m fairly certain I hit a mark closer to 300 lbs., which is painful to even acknowledge today). I recognized that something had to change but I was so very lost. I’ve shared before that, sort of by accident, I began a journey of transformation. The universe led me to what I needed right then and I first found a pathway to fitness. At the time, while I had no diagnosable illnesses such as diabetes or hypertension, I could barely walk down the stairs in the morning because of the pain in my knees and my feet. I struggled to get myself out of bed in the morning because even sitting up was difficult and walking up a flight of stairs was overwhelming. I was in denial and frightened about my future. On a drunken dare, I began kickboxing, finding the courage somewhere deep inside me to make myself vulnerable and show up in a way very different than I had ever done before. Fitness and exercise became a fundamental part of my life for the first time ever. But the underlying issues were never addressed. Within a year, I had lost 50 lbs. and started to see myself in a whole new way. My body began morphing into something different but I was still emotionally eating. I was like so many of the people that I read about. And, sure enough, about a year later, after an injury, I was not able to exercise regularly and the weight started piling back on. And within another year, I had gained back 25 lbs. of the weight I had worked so hard to lose. I was free-falling back towards a place I swore I would never return to. After feeling such great accomplishment, I was awash in a new level of embarrassment and disappointment in myself.

Like most of us, I have watched people on television or read magazine articles about people who have managed to have success with extreme weight loss. I’ve always paid attention to these stories looking to identify their secret. What changed for them? How did they finally find the willpower and discipline to change their lives? What I realized is that no one can ever explain the shift that takes place in your brain when you are ready to change your life. It just happens and you know it. And then you have to be ready to endure it. No one rolls out the red carpet for you, enabling you to strut your way to transformation. You don’t reach the end of the line, walking past the black rope in a new body. You trip and fall and get back up and cry and struggle and breakthrough lots of pain. And then, if you have managed to endure all of that and still have the discipline to stay the course, you might actually make it to the other side. In the late winter of 2015, the switch flipped in my head. I can’t exactly say why and I am not sure I will ever truly understand. Perhaps I was simply ready and had found the strength to look at myself for real for the first time. What I do know is that on March 1st I committed myself to being open and honest about the deep pain associated with my relationship with food and my self-loathing and I knew I was ready to really change my life. I started an emotional and physiological cleanse. I chronicled the journey in my blog, publicly sharing my battle with my weight and holding myself accountable to whomever might have been along for the ride. I started unpacking some very heavy bags and couldn’t help but notice the shifts occurring. The heavy weights that had been buried so deeply inside me were starting to melt away and, with them, the fat on the outside of my body disappeared too. After three weeks, I had shed 15 lbs. and, within months, I was down nearly 30.  I felt different and began to see glimmers of sunshine that had never made its way to my eyes before. In August, after maintaining my weight for a while, I decided to cleanse again, as if to exorcise any remaining demons. And, another 15 lbs. were gone. And then more. Today, I hit a milestone of 70 lbs. lost. I can actually see the end of this road in sight.

After my first cleanse ended in March, I sat with my best friend and shared small pieces of my struggle with him. It was the first time I had spoken so openly about my weight with him and he listened intently, aware that this was a breakthrough. In all of our deep discussions about the various elements of our lives, we had never touched this and he didn’t dare ask because, instinctively, he knew it was a place I was not ready to visit. This time, I told him that I was ready to tackle my issues head on and was committed to take control of my weight and find a place of self-acceptance, wherever that might be. I knew I would know it when I saw it. About a month ago, I sat in therapy and told my therapist (who, by the way, also acknowledged that I had not been very open about my weight battles) that I no longer feared that I would regain this weight. I implicitly knew that something had shifted inside me. I am no longer hiding. This shit is all out on the table. It doesn’t feel great but I know it is where I need to be.

This transformation process has been rough and emotionally challenging. Seeing my body become something I am not familiar with has been both wonderful and disruptive. I struggle to see what others see and often try to imagine how someone who meets me for the first time perceives me. I don’t think the first thing people see is the fat girl anymore. In fact, while I still have a ways to go before I will stop thinking of myself as overweight (and before the medical charts will stop referring to me as obese), I am not entirely certain that the rest of the world sees me as the fat person I once believed I was. My friend explained to me that he thinks I have rewritten my script so dramatically and have made so many other emotional and internal changes that how I show up is so very different than how my old self did. I am not hiding nor pretending to be someone else. I am living out loud and proudly strutting my peacock feathers. I feel bold and beautiful and, most of all, proud and confident. My arms are jiggly, my belly is saggy, my neck is wrinkly and my thighs will forever touch but I feel so good about myself. After covering my body for years when working out, I am now wearing tank tops and funky bottoms. I am coming out of the shadows and confidently showing up, less concerned about what others see. I want everyone to know my story. I need everyone to know my truth. My wish is that it will help another person come out of hiding and feel comfortable enough to confront their own truth.

And, something really remarkable happened to me last week. While, for most, it will not seem all that amazing or noteworthy, for me it was a truly incredible experience. I was out shopping with a friend and we walked into Banana Republic where I saw a jacket I liked. I tried it on, out in the open of the store, and it fit perfectly. I calmly walked up to the register to get in line to pay and, on the inside, I was doing a victory dance. Right there in the regular people’s department I found a jacket I loved. Just a plain old size Large. That was pretty cool. For the first time I can honestly say that I like being Large.

Oops! I Did It Again!


louis ck

On March 1st of this year I did something that, unbeknownst to me at the time, was life changing. It seemed rather unremarkable then but, looking back, it is incredibly clear how significant it was.

I started a cleanse.

Yes, it seems banal. Ordinary. Trendy.

It was time for me to do something about my eating and general health. After struggling with my weight my entire life and being a confessed emotional eater, I was looking for something that would help me change my behaviors. It was a 21-day cleanse and I figured that in three weeks I would likely see some shift in my routine and approach and, hopefully, develop some new practices. I shared my journey through my blog, hoping that my very public adventure would provide me with some level of accountability that ordinarily I don’t always provide for myself. I tended to my mission adeptly and I managed to completely dismantle my psyche in the process, creating a new approach to how I look at food, health and myself, in general. In other words, I accomplished my goal.

Exactly five months after I finished my cleanse, I decided to do it again. There was no clear motivation for me repeating the process except that I inherently knew that I needed to focus in on myself once again. After all, my results from the first round were extremely satisfying. The first time I cleansed I lost 10 lbs. and, subsequently, I managed to lose about another 25, along with drastically changing my relationship with food. I continued to workout very regularly and have felt much more active and fit. But, as the months marched on, I could gradually feel myself starting to lose my focus.  While I have not reverted to some of my destructive eating patterns, I could see that I was ever-so-slightly taking my eye off the ball.  The summer brought socializing and drinking and, even though I managed to keep the sugar and heavier foods at bay, I became less intentional about making sure that what I was eating was nourishing my body. My workouts were still pretty intense but less regular. Fortunately, the pounds were not packing back on but, in my new evolved state, I could recognize that I was slipping and needed to cut myself off at the pass. Plus, I wanted to feel that euphoric state that comes from eating clean and living a healthy lifestyle. I wanted to wake up every morning feeling good about my choices the previous day and not battling with myself about what I was putting in my body. So, I decided to give it another go. After all, it is just 21 days.  Three short weeks.

Once again, I found a window of time where I would not be traveling for work and would have the time to commit to preparing food and working out nearly every day. While this cleanse is relatively easy to follow, it does require you to commit some serious time to planning and preparing and to exercising. I sort of love the idea that these 21 days are a chunk of time devoted to me. It is like a little respite where I put everything else second and focus in on myself.

In preparation for the cleanse, I decided to go back and re-read the 21 days worth of blog posts from the last time in order to get back into the mindset. I was surprised when I quickly recognized that nothing about this time resembled the last. I foolishly expected my experience to be similar but, as soon as I read the first post, I realized the error in my thinking. Nothing about me today even remotely resembles the me who was preparing to start the cleanse on February 28th. It seems quite incredible that so much could change in five months but, in actuality, it has. For starters, I am not setting out on the cleanse with the dismay and disdain for myself as I was the last time. Before beginning the cleanse in March, I was profoundly disappointed in myself. After having lost about 50 lbs. several years earlier through intensive workouts, the weight was creeping back up and I had lost my motivation to exercise. I would longingly look at photographs of myself from that time, feeling overwhelmed and regretful of my lack of discipline. As someone who is typically quite regimented in my behaviors and very thoughtful about my actions, this was a major blow. This time, none of those feelings exist. On the contrary, my confidence level is high and I am extremely proud of my success because I look better than I have in years and am, inarguably, in the best physical shape of my life. While I still have plenty of weight to lose, I have never been healthier. Now, my motivations are about enhancement rather than rescuing myself from a dark hole. And, by the way, that feels pretty amazing.

Another big difference for me is that, this time around, I am approaching the experience with a sense of confidence and clear expectation of outcomes. There is much more intentionality about my approach. Last time, I really had no idea what to expect and was just hanging on by a thread, hoping that I could stick to the plan and get through the 21 days. This time I can see out to the horizon and imagine where I might land at the end. I have the benefit of knowledge of how this experience can and will play out and gives me more control over the outcomes. That is not to say it will be any easier but I am comforted in knowing that I am no longer a rookie and can guide myself through the hills of this path.

This journey is also a little different for me because it is a journey of acceptance rather than of accomplishment. Completing the cleanse in March left me with a tremendous sense of pride, not just because of what I accomplished but because of the resulting shifts in my life. More mentally than physically, I felt altered. My body didn’t look dramatically different but it set me up to manage my relationship with food much more powerfully. As a result, the weight started coming off rapidly and there was an ongoing ease as I approached social occasions and difficult eating environments. I was in control. Since that time, I have openly spoken to others about how the cleanse was a demarcation line in my life – it was, without a doubt, a transitional moment. There was such significance to the timing, the process, the experience and the outcomes. Now, I no longer need to prove to myself what I am capable of. My challenge is to accept the person I have become. I see glimpses of a version of me that I really appreciate and that excites me. Right after I finished my cleanse the first time, I shared with a friend that, more than anything, my objective was to let go of the control that food held over me. With two years to go before I turned 50, I wanted to plan to give myself the gift of entering my 50s without being ruled by food or my relationship to it. I want to turn 50 with a sense of acceptance of who I am rather than continually lamenting what I am not able to accomplish. Whether a size 6, 10, 14 or 18, I want to be comfortable in my skin and proud of who I am and what I have done for myself physically and mentally. I no longer want to be held hostage by my weight. The cleanse was the beginning of that process and, now, five months later, as I begin the process again, I can clearly see my destination.

So, this time, I selected this past Saturday as the start date for my cleanse. And, for about a week before I started, I decided to let myself eat whatever I wanted. After having given up foods like pizza, steak, diet soda, ice cream and most carbs and sugar, I gave myself permission to be gluttonous. I wanted to experience all that I had been “missing” and see where that landed me. I started the week off with pizza and ended it right there again. By the end of the week, after only about five days, I couldn’t help but recognize how crappy I felt. My appetite was ravenous and I was shunning my usual favorites of fruit and vegetables and was seeking out carbs and sugar. No surprise, of course, as I was not appropriately nourishing my body but, instead, was unconsciously shoving food in my mouth that emotionally I believed to be satisfying. I no longer could taste anything and found myself soothed by the comfort of the textures and the reminiscence of what these foods once represented for me. Near the end I was even beginning to binge eat. On the last night before the cleanse, I ate three slices of pizza and followed that up with a bowl of cereal and some graham crackers and milk.  These were all foods that had been removed from my repertoire, not because they are “bad” foods but because they make me feel bad. I was bloated and uncomfortable and found myself, once again, caught in the vice of food. It scared me how easily I could fall back into those bad routines and it was a distinct reminder of how important it is for me to eat consciously and nurture my body.  For five months I had not one single craving for any of those foods and, after just a few days, it was all I could think about.  Fortunately, I knew the cleanse was coming and this was only a temporary state.

I have already made it through three days and am feeling so much better. Admittedly, I am a bit tired from the cleansing and detoxing that is occurring in my body (I always compared it to the early days of pregnancy when your body is furiously building a human being and the exhaustion is overwhelming). And, emotionally, I find that the absence of food as a comfort results in some level of crankiness and self exploration. But, those are good things that always lead to positive breakthroughs.

Recently a friend admired me, acknowledging how much weight I have lost since March and I really tried to gain perspective on that. My husband keeps telling me how great I look and, every now and again, I run into someone who hasn’t seen me in a while and they remark about how much I have transformed. It is hard when you are living inside your body to see what others see. There is only so much distance you can create to develop a level of objectivity with yourself. So, I heavily rely upon those closest to me to help me see through their eyes and I pay close attention to how the clothes fit and how I endure my strenuous workouts. The easier they get and the more endurance I develop is always a reminder that I am getting stronger and more fit.

This summer, one of my obsessions was watching Extreme Weight Loss with Chris and Heidi Powell. I am fascinated by the journeys taken by the participants in their program. The transformations over the course of a year are remarkable and powerfully moving. With each of the participants’ stories, I found a piece of myself, relating to their struggles and appreciating the hard work they have to put in to achieve the results. It’s easy to think that you are alone when battling with your weight and freeing yourself from the addiction. Most of my friends have not had similar struggles in their lives and I have always felt like I have endured this solitary battle. Food addiction is often a very silent and lonely fight. And, as someone who has battled to overcome my addiction for years, I am grateful for anytime there is an opportunity to showcase the challenges and pain people face when trying to regain control of their lives. Food is not something we can cut out of our lives and the power it has over so many of us is not always evident. I am thankful to have achieved the levels of success I have and am excited to continue to liberate myself. There is no greater satisfaction than ending a day knowing that I was able to make choices that were right for me. There are many instances in which people try to encourage me to loosen the reigns and indulge and I choose to stay the course and do what is best for me. Those are winning days and I take them one at a time.

I’m excited to see where this 21-day journey takes me. I won’t be blogging each day to share my daily updates but I will share my story because I think it is important that we do so because you never know whose life you are going to touch to help them make a change. After all, that’s what we’re here for – to make a dent in the universe and affect others in a positive way. Hopefully my journey will do that.