The Beth of Before– the one that you all knew for so many years- is gone.
She’s slowly being replaced by a new Beth. Someone we are all just meeting for the very first time. Myself included.
It feels as if I spent the first 45 years of my life as the Very Hungry Caterpillar, just munching away on everything I could wrap my joyful chubby cheeks around and living my best life.
Life was great as the caterpillar!
Food equaled happiness. Happiness equaled FUN. Every fun event revolved around food, so ’round and ’round the cycle continued. For forty years there were plenty of meals and joy to go around. In fact, if anything remotely sad happened, I could always rely on my old friend food to be there to cheer me up.
I had tried every diet under the sun, starting with Richard Simmons Deal-A-Meal my dad bought for us when I was 8 years old. My mom took me to Weight Watcher meetings at age 12. I tried everything from 1980’s fat-free fads to Atkins fat bombs, but nothing every really made a difference.
Still, I never let my weight hold me back from doing hard MENTAL things in life. I accomplished SO much. This blog is a testament to that. I was self-confident and outgoing and such a perfectionist. I had to prove I was better than everyone else in so many different areas of life, because the world only saw my weight.
But then things began to change.
I reached a point in my caterpillar stage where I was so large that I could no longer easily move my body. Labwork started coming back covered in red alerts with off-the-chart medical issues. I was pre-diabetic (literally one single point away from having Type II Diabetes). When my doctor sent me to be tested for NAFLD and liver cirrhosis, I was forced to see myself for what I had become. My weight was killing me.
Then, my mom suffered a stroke. She also had a mechanical heart valve, Stage 4 Chronic Kidney Disease and Type II diabetes. Since I live right next door to my parents, I was her caretaker through all of it. I got a front row seat to the difficulty of living with all of her obesity-related diseases in an elderly body.
The fun had worn off. Something had to change.
The Mounjaro Metamorphosis
In the summer of 2022, I decided to have gastric sleeve surgery. I started going to my doctor for monthly weigh-ins in order to meet insurance requirements. I initially lost a bit of weight but it felt like climbing a mountain to get a single pound off the scale.
Then in fall 2022, my TikTok feed filled up with people talking about Mounjaro. I had heard of Ozempic, but Mounjaro was new to me. My entire life had been a struggle to lose weight. My body actively worked against me with hormonal imbalances, PCOS, pre-diabetes… it had never once been easy for me.
I talked to my doctor about Mounjaro and he agreed that I would be a great candidate for a GLP-1 drug (that’s the category of drugs for Ozempic/ Mounjaro/ Wegovy/ Zepbound). He wrote me a prescription, and I was able to take advantage of the $25 saving coupon, even though my insurance wouldn’t cover it.
I took that first shot and immediately- I mean INSTANTLY-the constant “food noise” inside my brain was quieted. Like a loudspeaker that had been roaring at me my whole life to “EAT. EAT. EAT!” was suddenly silenced.
It was mind-blowing to me how easy it became to lose weight. Quickly it became apparent that surgery was no longer going to be necessary as long as I had access to this medicine.
I finally realized what it felt like to live inside a “normal” body. It was so, SO easy without that voice of addiction constantly leading me to make bad choices. Weight began falling off with minimal effort. The more weight I lost, the more it made my heart ache for all the years I had spent battling against forces that were out of my control.
Grief is a Chrysalis
My sweet mama fought so hard to recover the things that she lost after her stroke. She lost all concept of numbers- telling time, remembering addresses, phone numbers, accounting and anything math related was taken by her stroke. Although she was still verbal, many words and phrases got mixed up. She could not tolerate any blaring TV shows or noise. She sat in her recliner and marveled in the birds in her feeders and the sunlight glittering across the lake. “Oddly euphoric” was how my sister described it. Months of speech, physical and occupational therapy helped her regain some of what she lost, but my witty, humorous, smart-as-a-whip mama was never quite the same. Then in winter of 2022 she suffered major kidney issues that hospitalized her several times. I could write a novel about all that she went through in a few short months, but I’ll spare those details.
In late January 2023, we lost her.
She spent her last 48 hours making all her ICU nurses laugh and cry with her bravery and sense of humor. But then she was gone. And I was left to tell my children that Grandma would not be coming home again.
For the rest of 2023 and most of 2024, I have been huddled inside a cocoon of grief. I have hunkered down and ridden out storm after storm that has washed over my family, my home and my career. It’s been a very hard year. There were so many more events that I won’t even mention here.
But through it all, I continued to lose weight. If I had not been on Mounjaro during all of this, I have no doubt I would have eaten every feeling and gotten even bigger and more unhealthy. But, because of Mounjaro, the opposite happened. I’ve lost 110 pounds and counting. My husband has also lost 100 lbs. My dad has now lost 75 lbs.
It’s truly a miracle drug. I wish my mama had a chance to take it.
In My Butterfly Era
I’m thrilled to say that I can see light at the end of this cocoon.
I’m finally starting to shed all of the stress and pain of the past few years and emerge as a butterfly. I’ve been silent for so long, but words are coming back to me again. I have had adventures with my kids that Old Beth would never have considered. We’ve hiked through canyons and ridden giant roller coasters that I wouldn’t have fit on before.
A few weeks ago we ziplined at Niagara Falls!

I’ll need lots of wing-waving practice before I’m ready to fly. But I do intend to fly. I hope you’ll join me on this new journey.
We have to let the light back into our world. It’s time for all of us to fly again.

Hi Beth,
It’s wonderful to hear from you again!
I’m so sorry for the loss of your mom.
The decision to take control of your health is inspiring.
Giving yourself the time to process all that you have been through was very wise.
I’m glad you’re back.
Looking forward to your new posts and updates.
Blessings to you,
Beth Harrison
Brunswick, ME
Thank so much, Beth! You are so right- giving myself time to process has helped me heal more than trying to pretend like I’m ok. I was NOT ok, but I am getting better. I can feel improvement each day as the fog lifts and the sun shines through again. Thank you so much for being here. I truly appreciate it.
Dear Beth, I just want you to know how deeply moving this post is to me. I had all the feels.
You are brave and amazing and strong and mind-blowing. I heard and felt every word. Thank you. Bless you in this journey as you emerge at the flying butterfly you are. ♥
Awww Michele. Thank you for saying that! I appreciate all your kind words and support! Feeling more hopeful right now than I have in a very long time. <3
Hey Beth!
I’m so glad that you’re back! I’m also really sorry to hear about the loss of your mom. You’ve been through a lot but something tells me this is just the beginning of great things to come! I look forward to seeing you fly!
Diane
Diane I really appreciate your kind words! I am ready for a new beginning! Thanks for being here!!
Beth, I am so sorry for the loss of your dear mother. You honor her with your determined spirit, and with your hope. Enjoying your children in ways that you have not been able to do before is an incredible gift, and it also honors your mom when you enjoy them. You have a beautiful life, and we love reading about you. Take all the time that you need, and don’t worry about us here on the web. We are always here, and you have a place with us. We are all cheering for you!
This comment made me tear up. Thank you so very much Ginni! You don’t know how much it means to hear that so many are still here reading this old blog of mine! It’s been quite a journey, and it’s not over yet.
Welcome back to my inbox. I look forward to your return! I am so sorry for the loss of your mother. She would have loved your butterfly era. Keep going!
Hey Kathy! Thank you for the warm welcome back! I hope to continue to be coming soon to an inbox near you. 🙂
So sorry about your mom, but proud of you. Glad you’re back. Missed you.
Diane, Thank you so much sweet friend! I’ve missed you too!
Beth, it is so good to hear from you again and that you are healing! The loss of a parent is the hardest thing I have had to deal with in my 60 years, because we are still the child who needs our momma. Love your journey and your growth. So happy you have taken this step and that the demons are sliding away. All the best to you and your family. xoxo
Mary, Losing my mom has definitely been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Nothing can quite prepare anyone for this feeling, especially when it was someone extremely close. I know it’s part of life, but wow, it’s not easy.
Thanks for being here on this journey with me!
Beth
Hi Beth!
What a beautiful surprise to “see” you in my inbox. I always hoped that you’d come back to the blogging world! Take your time and process all of the feelings – life is precious. So sorry for your loss.
Joyce
Hey Joyce! What a beautiful surprise to see you in my comment section!! Thank you so much for welcoming me back with open arms. It truly means the world to me.
How in the world did I miss this post? I’m thrilled to see you return to your writing simply because that’s what brought you in to my life to begin with. I’ll never forget the freak out I had when I realized that the Beth on my PTO Board was the same blogger I’d been reading for years! I love you, my friend, and I’m enjoying watching you spread your wings!
Haaaa I’ll never forget that either! And now our baby boys have grown up to graduates. So glad to have you in my life, my friend!
Beth, It’s never easy to leave and sometimes harder to return. You have often come to my mind, but I brushed it off, thinking, oh she’s gone on to other things. I was always impressed with you and though, I’m sorry to hear about your mom, and your health issues, we are all in this life together. And together, hopefully, we can all help and learn from each other.
Oh Chris I appreciate this note SO much today! I am struggling to find my way back into this blog world that’s changed so much, but I think the best thing to do is hit publish and hope it reaches the longtime readers who are still out there! We are all in this together, and I’m feeling very called to give some light and love back right now. I just need to get out of my own head and WRITE.