Heather Carter

Just thought I’d share — I’ve been using these BuildLeaf® GIP-1 microneedle patches for a little while now.
They’re small, plant-based patches you pop on once a day.
Made in Canada, dermatologically tested — and to be honest, I have noticed a difference.

🪵 Journal · July 2, 2025 · Vancouver Island

It’s my third day here on Vancouver Island.

To be honest, just a few months ago, the idea of climbing any hill — let alone a full mountain trail — would’ve left me shaking my head.

But here I am — boots on, hydration pack clipped in, and already halfway up one of the island’s most breathtaking coastal trails.

For years, my body had felt like a burden. My knees ached constantly. Even short walks around the station left me winded.
But something changed. I changed.

This trip was a promise I made to myself:
“When I lose the weight and feel strong again, I’ll hike through real forest — not just city sidewalks.”

And today, as I stand on this overlook, the ocean stretched wide below and the pines towering above, I feel… free.
The kind of free I haven’t felt since academy days.

The trail was steep in parts — my calves burned, and I nearly turned back once.
But I didn’t.
I took my time, found my rhythm, and kept going.

Now, I’m sitting on a rock warmed by the sun, the breeze catching my hair, and the sound of distant waves humming through the trees.

It’s peaceful up here. Solid. Real.

I used to avoid anything that might make me sweat — photos, reunions, hikes, even long stairs.
But this version of me?
She packs her own trail snacks.
She laughs when her boots get muddy.
She makes it to the top — not to prove something to others, but to reconnect with herself.

I whispered to the trees today:
“I’m still here — stronger than ever.”

And the forest whispered back.

Just me and another salad.
Not gonna lie — I miss warm bread and pie.
But I’m doing this for my heart, my knees… and maybe a walk in the park without needing to sit down every five minutes.
One bite at a time.

🥣 Just a few bites of beef and noodles left.
It wasn’t bad — just… eating alone never really tastes good. The kids aren’t home, and the house is so quiet I can hear the fridge humming.
I thought about frying something comforting, but then I remembered what the doctor said: “You’re not as young as you used to be.”
So I stuck with lean beef and veggies — keeping it in check.
Losing weight isn’t the hardest part.
Feeling alone is.

🐴 Happy 5th Birthday, my sweet Jackson.
Watching you ride today — so brave, so focused — I was just bursting with pride.
🎂 I can’t believe how fast time is flying.
Feels like just yesterday you were learning to walk.
And now here you are, riding that tall chestnut horse with your head held high, like a little champion.
But behind my smile today… there were a few words I didn’t say out loud.
💔 I wish I could run alongside you.
I wish I could help brush the horse, maybe even climb up and ride with you — but my knees just can’t handle it anymore.
The weight, the blood pressure meds, the shortness of breath… it’s all catching up to me.
🏡 This morning, I stayed behind on the porch as the trailer pulled out.
I waved and smiled, but it hurt — because deep down, I knew I was missing a moment I was supposed to be part of.
This isn’t self-pity.
It’s just the truth.
Jackson, if you ever read this someday:
Know that your mama loves you more than anything in this world.
Sweetheart, I’m trying. Really trying.
Because I don’t want to keep missing out on memories like this.
With all my heart,
Mom

🚙 This morning, I stood at the kitchen window watching them load up the trailer and head off for their beach trip. The kids were laughing, my husband was checking the tires and setting the GPS — everything looked perfectly normal… except I wasn’t in the car.
🧍‍♀️A few years ago, I would’ve gone with them — walking forest trails, stopping at roadside farms for fruit, sharing ice cream with the kids.
But now, after gaining weight, battling high blood pressure, and a few scary heart episodes... just climbing into the car is a struggle, let alone keeping up with the pace.
Even walking to the mailbox leaves me winded.
My legs are so swollen, I can’t zip up my boots.
The doctor keeps saying, “You need to move more,” but honestly — every step feels overwhelming.
🏠 The house is painfully quiet. I keep the TV on just to fill the silence.
I hardly cook anymore — what’s the point when it’s just me?
I’m not jealous of them.
I’m just heartbroken for myself.
How did I get to a place where even stepping outside to feel the sun feels so far out of reach?
🥺 If you’ve ever felt “left behind”… I see you.
This isn’t about giving up — it’s about not wanting to miss what’s left.
I don’t know where I’ll be a year from now —
But I know this:
👉 I’m not willing to lose any more of my life.

🥄 It’s not that I don’t love the old comfort food… I just don’t dare anymore.
Tonight I forced myself to eat a stir-fry with shrimp, egg, and cabbage — barely any oil.
It might look good, but for me, every bite was a goodbye to late-night fried food and ice cream.
🧍‍♀️ These days I need to rest halfway through Costco. I’ve failed so many times… but tonight, I didn’t give in.

🏍️ Jasper.
Feels like a lifetime ago.
That was me — leather jacket, wind in my face, chasing the highway like I had no limits.
Now? Just walking to the mailbox feels like a workout. The weight, the joints, the heart meds… they’ve slowed me down more than I’d like to admit.
Still wild at heart. Just… with a few more miles on the clock. ❤️