Coach Insiya
This is one of the most personal things I’ve ever shared.
She was 30 minutes late.
I was an hour late.
She looked at me in shock.
I just shrugged. “Growing up doesn’t mean you get better with time management. Especially not with kids.”
She had puffy eyes, hidden behind layers of makeup. She wore her favorite Old Navy dress—the one that showed just enough cleavage to distract from the rest of her body, the size she felt she had to hide underneath flowy dresses and a sucked-in stomach.
I, on the other hand, showed up in jeans and a t-shirt. A choice that took me years to feel comfortable making.
She told me she had been up all night crying—over flunking out of med school, over the boyfriend she helped get in, only for him to leave her the moment she failed.
I reached for her hand and held it firmly. “I know it feels like the end of the world right now,” I said. “But this? This will turn out to be one of the best things that ever happened to you.”
She looked at me, disbelieving.
I continued, “Because this heartbreak—both of them—will finally push you to get tested for ADHD. And when you do, when you start understanding your brain, everything will change. You’ll realize it was never about being a doctor. It was always about helping people live their best lives. You just hadn’t found the right way to do it yet.”
She scanned me up and down, disappointment flickering across her face. She had always imagined she’d become an athletic, effortlessly perfect version of herself. A trophy wife. Instead, she saw… me.
I smiled. “Looks can be deceiving,” I told her. “I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been. Inside and out. And most importantly, I love who I see in the mirror now.”
She swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “When do things start getting better?”
I pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as I debated what to say.
Because the truth was… she didn’t even know what true loss felt like yet.
Flunking out of med school and getting dumped would feel insignificant compared to what was coming.
The loss of our mother.
But she wasn’t ready for that yet.
Instead, I whispered, “Life doesn’t magically get better one day. But you will. You’ll become this strong, resilient woman who faces every challenge and never lets it pull her under.”
I pulled back and wiped a tear from her cheek.
“One day, you’ll take on a new challenge—starting GLP-1 medication. And not only will it help you finally lose weight, but it will unlock your brain again. The fog, the noise—it will clear. And you’ll process ideas in the most creative, brilliant ways.”
She blinked at me, wide-eyed.
I can’t help myself. She needs to see that love—the kind she never thought she deserved—is real.
I proudly tell her that she meets a man who will be everything she only imagined but never dared to dream of. That he would be so wonderful that a note she wrote about him after only one month of knowing him would still remain so true that she would recite it on her wedding day back to him.
I know I shouldn’t tell her this much, but I take out my phone and read her the entry that eventually became part of my vows. She needs to know to keep fighting.
Dear Joshua,
I want to let you know that today is the day I realized you're the one. After our conversation last night, I know there is no better man out there than you. There are so many things about you that truly blow me away.
I can tell you have no idea what an amazing catch you are. You are so different than any man I've ever met before. I can tell you believe it is your weakness, but I believe it is the most incredible thing about you.
I have spent so long searching for someone that is half as considerate as you. I began to give up on the idea of finding my true match. I started to worry that I needed to settle if I didn't want to be alone forever. And then somehow you came into my life. I believe God knew I had to go through all that heartache before I could meet you, love you, and truly value all that you have to offer me.
Original Note Written on June 20, 2016
Recited during Vows on June 21, 2019
Now she has happy tears in her eyes as I continue on and let her know that we have two beautiful boys who have brought me equal parts joy and exhaustion as I keep up with their high-energy, happy lives.
I lean in conspiratorially. “And guess what else? I coach women now. Women like us. I help them on their GLP-1 journey. I’m an expert in my field.”
Her mouth falls open.
I wink. “Turns out, brilliance isn’t only defined by a medical degree. Who knew?”
We laugh. And then we hug—one of those long, deep, I-see-you hugs.
I know I’ll meet her again one day, a few years from now, when she needs another reminder of who she’s becoming.
But for today, I hope she sleeps a little better knowing this isn’t the end.
It’s just the beginning of her new dreams.
