Today, I broke down in my car. Tears, chest tight, that voice in my head whispering: What’s even the fucking point of all this?
I’ve been working hard—exercising when I can, eating mindfully (on a shoestring budget), doing everything in my power to keep my blood pressure under control. However, none of it matters if stress continues to run the show.
At my doctor’s appointment, I was hopeful. I walked in thinking maybe I’d see progress. Instead, the scale went up. My blood pressure? Sky-high replicating a zip code. My biggest goal has always been to avoid ending up on a shelf full of medications like my mom. Yet here I am—more prescriptions, more exhaustion.
And listen—I wasn’t praying in that moment. I wasn’t chanting affirmations. I was having a real, messy, human moment. One where screaming feels more honest than “just breathe.”
Why Stress Is So Dangerous
The truth hit me hard: stress is the real killer.
Not just the food. Not just the workouts skipped. Not just the struggles of being unhoused. Stress quietly weaves itself into everything. It causes the body to hold on to weight. It spikes blood pressure. It drains the energy I need to keep going. It’s the avalanche behind the avalanche.
That realization stung. Because before this season, I had momentum. I’d lost weight. I’d reduced meds. My biggest concern was walking away from a relationship that wasn’t good for me. Now? I feel buried under dangerous numbers, doubled weight, and a reality I never asked for.
The Exhaustion Is Real
After the steering wheel scream, I took a deep breath and asked myself what’s next. I started digging for answers—researching workouts that are safe for someone in my condition, asking my doctor the hard questions. She reminded me to watch sodium (duh). With an added mental note: sugar too.
I’m not giving up, but I am tired. Fucking exhausted! Because it feels like no matter what I do, I’m not moving forward. And maybe you know what that feels like too—the grind of doing “all the right things” yet standing still.
A Fragile Kind of Hope
Here’s where I land today: I still see the life I want. It’s bright, free, and mine. Getting there feels impossible sometimes—like chiseling a door into a mountain made of steel. But even if my swing is weak, even if progress feels invisible, I’m still chiseling.
So yes, stress is dangerous. Yes, it’s draining. And yes, some days it wins. But maybe the win for today is admitting it out loud, letting the truth breathe, and choosing to take one small step anyway.
Because pretending doesn’t save lives. Truth does.
This journey can only be handled one moment at a time.
Shereese
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