~ Becca ~
Discipline became my language.
Not the flashy kind no one applauding, no social media updates, no congratulations from strangers. Just quiet, relentless rules I enforced on myself. My alarm rang at six every morning, and I got up even when my body screamed to stay buried under blankets. I ran before breakfast, cold air burning my lungs, my feet pounding against pavement like some primal drum of survival.
I tracked every movement. Every repetition. Every meal. Not obsessively. Not like Stephen would have wanted me to punish myself. But methodically, intentionally. Every choice became mine. I decided what I ate. I decided how I moved. I decided how I looked at the mirror and—most importantly—how I would never shrink again.
Therapy was brutal at first.
I cried. A lot. Every ses
