Ghosted at 59: Chips were involved

Started the day like a champ.

Two miles with my weighted vest. Feeling strong. Energized. One Beyoncé power strut away from running the world.

Then midday hit—and so did reality.

That thing I was hoping for? Didn’t happen.

And the person I thought might be a thing? Ghosted me.

Yep. Ghosted. My first time. Not bad for 59, right?

I’d like to thank the Academy.

 At first, I tried to be all Zen:

“It’s not meant for me. The universe has a plan.”

But really? That sneaky little voice—the “you’re not good enough” gremlin—crept in like it had VIP access to my brain.

 I knew it was my old stuff showing up. And still… it stung.

I kept going. Had some calls. Got things done.

But then… I got hungry. And here’s where things took a turn.

 Fruit? Great choice.

Popcorn? Okay, we’re leaning in.

Potato chips? Well, now we’re having a party.

 My body went full-on snack therapist.

“Feelings? Let’s eat ’em!”

 And you know what? I let it happen.

Because I knew exactly what was going on. I wasn’t spiraling—I was self-soothing. And sometimes, the chips are the therapy.

 The moral of the story? I’m human. You’re human.

Even the most motivational among us occasionally faceplant into a bag of chips.

This weekend, give yourself grace. Laugh at the moments. Hug the realness.

And if you need to eat a little popcorn to get through it, go for it.

 Love,

Lisa