When the Weight Isn’t Just Physical: A Real and Raw Update on my Mental Health

Liz Courneyea
Jun 12
3 min read

It’s time for an honest check-in — the kind I used to be afraid to write. I wish I could sit here and tell you how great everything’s going, how I’ve been crushing my workouts, feeling mentally clear, and confidently stepping into each day with a protein shake in one hand and motivation in the other. But the truth is... I’ve been struggling. Really struggling with my mental health.

Over the past year, I’ve gained over 30 pounds. But this journey isn’t just about weight gain — it’s about what the weight represents. The heaviness I feel isn’t just in my body, it’s in my heart. In my thoughts. In the quiet moments when no one’s watching. The kind of weight that doesn’t show up on a scale but shows up in how you speak to yourself, how you show up in the world, and how hard it feels just to get out of bed some days.

I’ve been battling depression — the kind that sneaks in slowly, then suddenly takes over. The kind that makes everything feel like too much and not enough all at once.

Some days I wake up with hope. Other days, I wake up and immediately want to go back to sleep, because reality feels too heavy. I have been battling full blown panic attacks, crying fits for no reason and just overall sadness. It has been a very long time since I have felt like this. I’ve been working closely with my doctor, trying different medications to help stabilize my mood and find some clarity again. If you’ve ever gone through that trial-and-error phase, you know how brutal it can be. One day you feel okay, the next you're slammed by side effects or deep emotional swings you didn’t see coming. It’s frustrating. Disorienting. But I keep showing up to my appointments. I keep having the conversations. I keep choosing to fight for my health — even when it feels like a fight I’m losing.

But perhaps the biggest shift for me lately hasn’t just been internal — it’s been about the people I surround myself with. This past year, I made the incredibly difficult decision to walk away from relationships that were no longer serving me. Relationships that drained me, that dimmed my light, that made me question my worth. It’s one thing to work on healing your body — but healing your heart, your boundaries, your peace — that’s next-level hard. People who I always thought would be there in my life, who I thought loved me and cared for me have only turned out to be more toxic than rewarding. These decisions have not come without a lot of thought. I have spend weeks crying and hoping that I made the right decision to walk away from relationships and friendships that I thought would be with me forever.

Letting go isn’t glamorous. It’s painful. It’s lonely at times. But I’ve learned that sometimes, peace doesn’t come from adding more to your life — it comes from subtracting what’s slowly breaking you down. And for me, that meant saying goodbye to dynamics I had clung to for far too long out of comfort, habit, or guilt.

So where am I now?

I’m somewhere in the messy middle.

I’m not where I used to be — but I’m not quite where I want to be either.

I’m rebuilding. Slowly. Quietly. Imperfectly.

I’m reminding myself that progress doesn’t always look like clean meals, daily workouts, or “before and after” pictures. Sometimes progress is showing up to therapy. Saying no to someone who doesn’t respect your boundaries. Choosing rest over punishment. Letting your body soften without attaching it to shame.

I used to believe that I had to be the strong one — for my clients, my followers, my family. But what I’m learning is that strength doesn’t always look like hustle and hustle and hustle. Sometimes strength is surrender. Sometimes it’s softness. Sometimes it’s just staying.

So, this isn’t a comeback post.It’s a check-in. A confession. A moment of truth.

And if you’re in a season like mine — where everything feels a little heavier, a little darker, and a lot more uncertain — I see you. You’re not lazy. You’re not failing. You’re human. And you’re doing your best. Just like me.