Apparently, Even Socks Tell a Story

Over the last almost two years, I lost a quarter of my body weight. Between the GLP-1 injections, the gym, and Pilates reformer classes, I would love to say it was all thanks to healthy eating—but that wasn’t always the case.

After losing all that weight, I expected to need new clothes: underwear, bras, the usual. What surprised me the most, though, was the fact that I needed new socks.

As I lost weight, my feet actually shrank. They became narrower. My socks, which had apparently stretched to accommodate my old weight, were now loose, stretched out, and uncomfortable.

I naturally have small feet, and socks—unless they’re kids’ sizes—never fit perfectly anyway. Still, I was genuinely surprised to discover that new socks were necessary.

The year is ending, and a new one is beginning in just a couple of days. Many of us go through a mental checklist: what we accomplished, what we struggled with, and what falls somewhere in between.

We usually focus on the obvious big things—getting a promotion, starting a new job, hitting a major milestone.

But just like my socks, we often forget to count the smaller, less obvious successes.

One of my goals this year was to become more organized. Unfortunately, my nature isn’t so easy to change. But my pantry is—and, to my great delight, it’s still organized several months later.

My home office still looks like a mess, but my little “sock/pantry” success counts.

We tend to look only for the big, obvious wins right in front of us. Maybe we need to shift our perspective and start noticing the smaller, unexpected victories too.

Five Years After Hearing Loss: The Things No One Told Me About Hearing Aids

Junk Drawer Finds and Hearing Aid Memories

I was clearing out one of my many junk drawers as part of my 2025 clutter mission when I found the receipt for my first hearing aid. It instantly brought back everything I went through that year.

From the moment I realized that I really couldn’t hear—and that it wasn’t temporary—to finally accepting that I needed hearing aids just to get through everyday life. I stressed constantly about how I’d manage at work and even more about the cost of the devices.

It took months of back-and-forth with insurance to get them covered. Then came the “test-driving” phase, followed by several more months of getting used to the new sounds and training my brain to adapt.

What they don’t tell you is that the world is loud. And they definitely don’t tell you that hearing aids won’t restore your hearing to what it once was.

I learned that loud places are overwhelming, movie theaters are actual punishment, and despite all the technology available, I still won’t be able to follow every conversation. It hit me hard—so hard that I spiraled into depression and grief.

And people… well, some people are completely clueless. One of my favorite comments (read: least favorite) was:
“But you don’t look deaf.”
Apparently, I forgot to wear my antennas that day.

Another time, I asked someone to repeat what they said because I didn’t hear them, and they responded by leaning in and yelling directly into my ear. The shock on my husband’s and my face must have been priceless.

Now, five years and a second hearing aid later, I’m still adjusting. Still learning to live with the fact that I’ll never hear “normally” again.

I wonder what I’ll find next week when I tackle another junk drawer. Hopefully something better—like forgotten money from a year ago.

#hearing loss journey #adjusting to hearing aids #living with hearing loss

#hearing aid struggles #hearing loss depression

Starting Fresh: A Rescue Dog’s New Beginning and Ours

Our house has been very quiet the last 6 months since we lost our previous dog. The house was quiet, no dog toys everywhere, and my daily step count plunged. We were on a walk last week, talking about the possibility of getting a new dog. Little did we know, fate would intervene quickly—the very next morning, we found a dog looking for a home, and after applying, we welcomed our new girl.

Our new girl came from a rescue, and no one knows how old she is. All we know is that she was neglected and was looking for a loving forever home. Our previous dogs were puppies when we got them, so adopting a rescue is a new experience for us.

There is a 3-3-3 rule when you adopt a dog: it takes 3 days for the dog to decompress, 3 weeks to learn the household routine, and 3 months to fully settle in. We are on day 6, and she is starting to settle in—getting used to our routine, to us, to the neighborhood, learning some basic commands, and even starting to respond to her name (which she never had before).

As she is getting acclimated to our house and to us, we are also learning about her. This takes patience. Patience to follow her lead as she gets more comfortable around us, and patience for us in training her. Patience isn’t just necessary—it’s great. But not everyone is naturally patient. I’ll admit, I’m the type who wants things done yesterday. In a world where we get instant gratification from likes on social media and next-day Amazon deliveries, waiting for certain things can feel unnatural. But she is teaching me to stop focusing on her behavior, to follow her lead, and to be patient as she gets used to us.

She is also teaching me to manage my expectations. With puppies, you grow and train together. But with a rescue, the dog comes with its own set of experiences—good or bad training, and perhaps habits that need to be unlearned or reinforced. It’s not about lowering my expectations, but rather adjusting them to what’s realistic for the dog we’re adopting.

Our girl got a new lease on life and is getting a brand new beginning, and just like her, we can also start a new path and reinvent ourselves.