One day I will play the accordion up in heaven, among the clouds

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  One day I will play the accordion up in heaven, among the clouds. There, where the air has no weight, where sound does not hurt. I will sit within the soft whiteness, and my fingers — those trembling witnesses of earthly imperfection — will move smoothly, confidently, without fear. There my hand will not make mistakes from the neurological disorder I have , because in eternity there is no misfired impulse, no confused message between brain and muscle, no clash between will and body. There everything becomes pure intention, an endless flow of sound and light, a complete merging between what I want and what I can . I see myself holding the accordion — that strange instrument suspended somewhere between breath and prayer. Each opening of its folds is like inhaling the sky , each closing — exhaling the light . Perhaps this is the prayer I’ve always searched for. Not the one spoken aloud, but the one the body whispers when the mind gives up control. There, above, perfection is...

Unapologetically

 

She also began to mentor younger women, listening to their insecurities, offering empathy and advice, and teaching them that self-worth was not tied to size. In helping others, she reinforced her own lessons, seeing in their eyes reflections of her past struggles and her present courage. She realized that the fight was not just personal—it was cultural, generational, societal. Every act of self-acceptance, every rejection of shame, became a small rebellion against a world that demanded perfection.

Over time, she learned to navigate the landscape of her body and her shame with gentleness. She forgave herself for past mistakes, for indulgences, for moments of despair. She celebrated her endurance, her heart, her capacity for love, her ability to find joy even in an imperfect world. The extra weight was still there, but it no longer defined her entirely. The extra shame began to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, steady sense of self-respect.

She understood that this journey was ongoing, that societal pressures would not vanish, that internalized voices might whisper again. But she also knew she had learned tools, strategies, and above all, the conviction that she was more than her body. Every meal eaten with pleasure, every mirror looked at with acceptance, every relationship nurtured with honesty, was a declaration: I am worthy, I am enough, and my weight does not determine my value.

In this way, she reclaimed not only her body but her life. She embraced imperfections, honored her needs, and recognized that shame could be confronted, dismantled, and replaced with self-compassion. The road was long, winding, and sometimes painful, but every step forward illuminated a simple truth: worth is intrinsic, not conditional; beauty is diverse, not uniform; and love—true love—requires no reduction, no punishment, no hiding.

And so, she carried on, not free of her body, not untouched by the world’s judgment, but stronger, wiser, and more tender with herself than she had ever been. The extra weight remained, but the extra shame no longer had power over her. She had claimed her body, reclaimed her voice, and in doing so, discovered a profound liberation: the courage to exist fully, wholly, and unapologetically.

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