The Weight of Words: A Reflection on Pain, Perception, and Personal Liberation

Recently, I underwent a third, difficult oral surgery.

Once again, the pain and discomfort were so intense that I could only manage a simple liquid diet for two weeks, followed by soft foods for another two. For those of you who have gone through something similar, you know the kind of excruciating experience I’m talking about. The basic acts of chewing, swallowing, and even talking felt nearly impossible. While it was undeniably difficult, it also became a lens through which I saw, for the millionth time, something far more insidious: the way we, as women, are conditioned to view ourselves and our bodies.

During my recovery, some of the women in my life reached out to check on me, asking how I was doing. When I responded honestly, saying, “It’s painful, and I can’t eat,” some of them shared first reactions that took me by surprise in the moment:

“How much weight have you lost?”
“At least you’re losing weight!”
“Maybe I should have oral surgery so I can’t eat for a while... maybe I’d lose weight, too.”

These comments from women I love and respect stopped me in my tracks. It struck me, first and foremost, how the immediate focus was on my body—its size, weight, and the potential for loss—rather than on my recovery. Luckily, my surgery revealed I didn’t have cancer, which had been my biggest concern. Yet, my struggle seemed to be viewed as an opportunity to lose weight. This reflection highlighted something far deeper: even later in life, the default assumption for women is that all we desire is to be smaller, thinner, to take up less space. And not just to be smaller, but to be smaller at any cost—even if that cost is pain and discomfort.

What saddened me most was how reflexive these responses were. These weren’t malicious comments but conditioned ones. They were a product of the cultural landscape that women have been raised in—a landscape where the primary measure of our worth and value is often how closely we conform to an idealized, often unattainable, image of what a woman should look like. It was assumed that I, too, likely would want to lose weight through any means necessary, including difficult and depleting ones.

I wondered... What about my well-being? What about the fact that I was enduring weeks of pain and starvation? What if I am content with my body exactly as it is?

The deeper issue here is the systematic conditioning that women have faced for generations. We have been told—directly and indirectly—that our worth is linked to our appearance, our body size, and our ability to fit into this narrow mold society has created for us. We are led to believe that we cannot grow older, that we cannot gain weight, and that we must always strive to be something other than what we are.

The truth is, I’m not the first person to challenge these outdated beliefs, and I’ve certainly been guilty of buying into them myself, even pushing the same misguided agenda onto others in the past—more times than I’d like to admit.

These reflections are not born out of anger or contempt but out of sadness. Sadness for myself and for the women around me who have been raised under the same pressures. I feel sadness that most of us have been conditioned to value thinness over health, and appearance over authenticity, unconsciously. I feel sadness when I look back and realize that I once believed that in order to be worthy, I had to change myself to fit into a world that was never built for me. I was once caught in that trap, too, seeking external validation through my appearance, believing that if I could only meet the ideal, I would find happiness, acceptance, and peace.

Oh, how I wish I could go back in time and guide my younger self onto a healthier, saner path sooner—one where I knew my worth was never tied to my physicality, but to the strength and authenticity I now know I have always carried in my one miraculous and amazing body.

But here's the thing: I HAVE chosen to step out of that cycle. I am done subscribing to a system that tells me I need to change who I am to be enough. I don’t need to be fixed. I don’t need to shrink. I don’t need to be anything other than what I am right now—perfectly whole, perfectly human, and perfectly enough as I am.

I won’t bend myself into a pretzel anymore to meet some unrealistic standard that wasn’t designed with my true nature at heart. I won’t pour money into remedies and products designed to fix what isn’t broken. My body, my size, and my age do not need to be adjusted to fit a cultural narrative that doesn’t serve or align with me. And I’m not alone in this. I know many of you have arrived at the same crossroads and, thankfully, chosen a new way, too.

I invite all women who are ready and willing to join me in consciously and consistently rejecting these harmful, ingrained beliefs, messages, and behaviors. Let’s come together and unravel the lies we’ve been told. Let’s walk away from a system that profits off of imposed insecurities, and instead, build a world where we celebrate women for our strength, our authenticity, and our true beauty and aliveness—inside and out. I want to live a life where I am allowed to take up space, to grow older with grace, and to embrace my body as it is, without shame or apology. Don’t you?

This is the moment to fully acknowledge the distorted reality of the world we live in and to make the courageous decision to break free. We don’t need to lose weight to be worthy. We don’t need to shrink to fit in. We are enough.

It’s like that scene in the Barbie movie where Barbie is sitting next to an older woman on a bus bench. She turns to her and says, “You are SO beautiful!” The older woman, breaking the expected code of modesty or self-deprecation, doesn’t respond with the typical “I’m so old” or “No, I’m not” or “Are you crazy?” Instead, she simply says, “I KNOW!” And in that moment, Barbie smiles, her face lighting up with the beauty of receiving that profound truth.

Greta Gerwig, the screenwriter and director of Barbie, was asked to cut that scene because the editors believed it did not hold much value or significance for the story. But Gerwig pushed back (and clearly won!), saying, “This is what the entire movie is all about.” Exactly, Greta Gerwig. Exactly.

That simple exchange encapsulates something profound: the act of accepting and celebrating our own worth, without apology, without minimizing ourselves to make others more comfortable. It’s about truly connecting with the life force within—our inherent worth and wholeness—without the need for validation or permission. It’s a powerful, subtle reminder that we don’t have to shrink, explain, or apologize for our existence, especially as we grow older and our bodies shift and change.

And for the record: as a menopausal woman who’s prioritizing strength over size anyway, I lost ZERO weight during my surgery recovery. Bodies at this age don’t respond well to starvation. Instead, we respond to nourishment, connection, self-care, self-love, and healthy routines—not forced liquid diets and deprivation.

This is precisely what The Medicine Walk is all about. It’s about noticing the old, habitual ways we’ve been conditioned to participate in the suffering and devaluation of ourselves and others. The ways we automatically reduce ourselves, undermine our value, and settle for less than what we truly deserve. We have been taught to minimize our brilliance, to silence our truths, and to conform to a standard that never had our best interests in mind. But it’s time to stop that. It’s time to extend grace and compassion toward those earlier, hypnotized-by-culture versions of ourselves and decide NOW to show up in a way that’s different—a way that’s more truthful, real, and aligned with our essence. Together.

The Medicine Walk invites us to return to our truth. It invites us to step out of the shadows of societal pressure and into the light of who we really are. It calls for us to unlearn the narratives that tell us we are not enough, to break the chains of insecurity and self-doubt, and to reclaim our inherent worth. We can show up as our full, unapologetic selves—no matter our size, our age, or the stage of life we’re in. We can embrace our bodies and our stories as sacred, and with that acceptance, step into the world with confidence, power, and peace. Together.

I see this as a powerful conversation. A conversation for women, for people, reclaiming our stories, our significance, our right to be here. It's about not just knowing our worth but embodying it in every part of our lives. No longer shrinking, no longer apologizing, no longer buying into a narrative that keeps us small. Together.

What would it be like if we simply said to one another, on a regular basis, “You’re perfect and wonderful just as you are. Nothing needs to change for me or the world. Unless you, yourself, want it to change. Just for YOU.”

So, as I reflect on my own painful recovery and the comments that were made, I’m reminded of this: We have the power to change how we respond to the world and to each other. We can break free from these harmful narratives and create a space where we uplift one another—not based on superficial measures, but on the recognition of our intrinsic value. When we stop apologizing for our existence, when we stop treating our worth as negotiable, that’s when we start to truly thrive.

This is why I travel the path of The Medicine Walk, and I hope you will join me and the growing number of others who are ready to live wholly and freely. Together, we can practice unraveling the lies that have kept us in suffering or confusion and step into the fullness of our beings, just as we are—knowing, like the older woman on the bench, that we are enough. Always have been. Always will be.

Walking with you,
Mary

🏹

Are you ready to rid yourself of poisonous, conditioned messaging?

The next time you connect with a woman you love and trust, we invite you to take your own Medicine Walk and reflect on these questions:

• When have you noticed your own pain being reframed or dismissed through the lens of body image? How did it feel?
  

• What cultural messages about worth and weight have you internalized—and are you ready to question or release?
  

• What would it mean—for you—to truly believe you are already enough, without needing to change your body?
  

• What does “taking up space” mean to you today—in body, voice, or presence?
  

• Can you recall a moment when you felt fully at peace in your body, just as it is? What helped you get there?
  

• What lies about your worth are you ready to lay down—today?