Month: March 2026

Everywhere I look—online, in comment sections, in “art,” in think pieces, in endless rants—I see fear dressing itself up as righteousness and anger masquerading as concern for the world.

People claim they’re terrified about the state of things. They say their mental health suffers. They say they feel overwhelmed, exhausted, and anxious.

And then they point fingers. They blame this political party. Or that one. Conservatives. Liberals. “The other side.” Labels fly around like paper at a ticket tape parade.

Outrage as Performance

They post nonstop. They wield their talents not to clarify, calm, or illuminate—but to shout, insult, mock, and divide. They call it “speaking out,” but it functions as little more than venting rage. They share half-stories without context, half-truths without accountability, opinions soaked in fear and contempt.

And then they say, “let’s just be kind.”

If you agree with them, you join the misery club. If you don’t, they shame you, attack you, and label you.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t about justice. It’s about outrage addiction. And it’s exhausting.

Politics as a False Foundation

Here’s the hard truth people resist: they feel miserable, angry, and fearful because they put their hope in politics—and politics will always fail them.

I want to be very clear: I haven’t celebrated every election outcome. I haven’t always liked who got elected. I’ve worried about policies, priorities, and leadership.

But here’s what I did differently:

• I didn’t let fear control my life.
  
• I didn’t let anger consume my witness.
  
• I didn’t weaponize my art, my voice, or my platform.
  

Why? Because of Jesus.

Taking My Anxiety to God

When President Biden took office, he wasn’t my choice. I admit I spiraled—I read article after article, obsessed over policies I disagreed with, feared where our country was headed.

I felt anxious. Frustrated. Afraid.

Then one day, while walking, I brought it all to God—not to social media, not to comment sections, not to people who might validate my emotions. I went straight to God.

And in that quiet moment, God spoke clearly:

“Vikki, why are you fearful? I am still God. I am still on the throne. You have two jobs: put ALL your faith in Me, and pray for those in power.”

It wasn’t gentle. It was corrective. And it hit hard.

Trusting God, Not Politics

God didn’t ask who I voted for. He didn’t ask if I agreed with every policy. He didn’t ask me to fret over the future. He reminded me who He is.

So I obeyed. I prayed for my president—whether I liked him or not, whether I agreed with him or not, whether I trusted his decisions or not.

Because my trust never belonged in a person or party. My trust always belongs in God.

Once I embraced that truth, fear lost its grip. I knew God had me if taxes rose, if policies passed against my values, if the cost of living increased, if the world felt unstable. God had me then. God has me now. God will always have me.

Life Without Jesus Leaves Fear in Charge

That is not denial. That is faith.

Here’s a truth many resist: the problem isn’t who sits in the Oval Office. The problem is trying to navigate a broken world without Jesus. Life without Him will always feel overwhelming, unstable, and produce fear, anger, and despair—no matter which party holds power.

If your peace rises and falls with election results, your foundation is wrong.
If your joy disappears every four years, your hope is misplaced.
If your mental health collapses whenever a politician speaks, politics has become your god.

Presidents will fail you. Governments will disappoint you. Policies will change. Leaders will lie. Power will shift.

But Jesus Christ remains on the throne.

True Peace Comes from Jesus

He ruled before any president. He rules before any political party. He will rule long after every name we argue over fades into history.

True peace does not depend on the right candidate winning. True security does not depend on the right laws being passed. True fulfillment does not depend on shouting louder than the other side.

It comes from knowing Jesus. Everything else will eventually let you down.

And that’s not political commentary—that’s eternal truth.

This morning, I went to the doctor for a routine yearly physical. Nothing dramatic. No flashing red warning lights about my health. Just the usual annual check-in that responsible adults schedule so we can pretend we have our lives together.

I arrived on time.

Actually, I arrived early—because that’s what responsible adults do. We show up ten minutes early, clutch our insurance card, scroll our phones, and mentally rehearse how to explain that weird pain in our shoulder that only shows up when we sneeze while holding a coffee mug.

And then we wait.

Thirty minutes, to be exact.

Now, let me be clear: thirty minutes is not the end of the world. I realize doctors run behind. Emergencies happen. Appointments take longer than expected. I understand the logistics.

But while I sat there, staring at the same outdated magazine about Mediterranean diets and “10 Ways to Tone Your Core,” my brain started doing what brains do best.

It started thinking.

And what I kept coming back to was this: how are we still this far behind when it comes to women’s health in 2026?

Because once I finally got called back and the appointment actually began, the conversation went exactly where it always goes.

My weight.

When Every Conversation Comes Back to the Scale

Let me start by saying something obvious.

I’m overweight.

I know it. My scale knows it. My doctor knows it. The jeans in the back of my closet that I keep hoping will magically fit again definitely know it.

I could probably stand to lose fifty pounds. Maybe more.

But here’s the part that frustrates me: I have never had a medical conversation that didn’t eventually circle back to my weight.

Not once.

When I’m sick, we talk about my weight.

When I’m healthy, we talk about my weight.

When I ask a question about something unrelated—my joints, my sleep, my headaches, menopause symptoms—the conversation eventually loops right back around.

Weight.

It’s like every road in women’s healthcare leads to the same destination.

And this morning was no exception.

Good Numbers, Same Conclusion

Here’s the ironic part.

My numbers are good.

My blood pressure is good. My labs come back normal. My cholesterol behaves itself. Nothing in my chart screams emergency.

Yet despite all that, the recommendation remains the same.

Weight loss medication.

Diabetes medication “as prevention.”

Weight loss surgery.

Those suggestions come up again and again, even when the tests don’t actually point in that direction.

Now, let me clarify something important: there is nothing wrong with those treatments. For many people, they are life-changing and necessary.

But when they become the only conversation?

That’s when the problem begins.

Because eventually you start wondering whether anyone is listening to anything else you’re saying.

Are Women’s Bodies Still a Medical Mystery?

Maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe it’s unfair to say it.

But sometimes it feels like men’s healthcare has progressed further than women’s.

Maybe that’s not because men’s bodies are simpler.

Maybe it’s because for decades medical research focused more heavily on men.

Historically, clinical trials often excluded women because researchers believed hormones would “complicate the data.” As a result, huge portions of modern medicine developed using male bodies as the default template.

Even today, many conditions affect women differently. Symptoms present differently. Pain gets interpreted differently.

And yet we still find ourselves in exam rooms explaining the same things over and over.

Or worse, being told the same solution regardless of the question.

The Family Tree of “Short and Fluffy”

Another thing doctors don’t always account for is genetics.

There’s not really a thin woman in my family.

We weren’t built that way.

My family tree is full of women who are strong, short, and—let’s call it what it is—fluffy.

We’re sturdy. Solid. Built like we could carry groceries, grandkids, and emotional baggage all at the same time.

Could we all benefit from healthier habits? Sure. Who couldn’t?

But there’s a difference between encouraging healthy lifestyle changes and reducing someone’s entire medical experience to a number on a scale.

Because weight alone doesn’t tell the full story of a human body.

And yet far too often, it becomes the only story doctors read.

The Anxiety Nobody Talks About

Here’s something I realized this morning while getting ready for my appointment.

I have developed anxiety about going to the doctor.

Not panic attacks. Not anything debilitating.

Just that quiet, persistent dread.

The kind where you already know how the conversation will go before you even walk through the door.

I know the moment I step on the scale.

I know the look.

I know the notes that will get typed into the computer.

And I know the conclusion waiting at the end of the appointment.

“Lose weight and come back in six months.”

That’s it.

Conversation over.

When the Investigation Ends Too Soon

Here’s the real problem with that approach.

It stops the investigation.

Sometimes I have aches and pains. Nothing severe. Just the random annoyances that come with getting older and possibly entering the rollercoaster known as menopause.

But when I bring them up, the conversation often stops before it really begins.

“You probably wouldn’t have that pain if you lost some weight.”

Maybe that’s true.

But maybe it’s not.

Maybe there’s inflammation. Maybe there’s arthritis. Maybe there’s something hormonal happening that deserves attention.

Yet the moment the weight explanation appears, the curiosity disappears.

And curiosity is supposed to be the heart of good medicine.

The Shame Cycle That Helps No One

Ironically, the constant focus on weight doesn’t always motivate change.

Sometimes it does the exact opposite.

The guilt creeps in.

The shame follows right behind it.

You leave the appointment feeling like you failed a test you didn’t even know you were taking.

Then six months pass.

You didn’t lose the weight.

The pain still exists.

And now your mental health feels worse than it did before the appointment.

So you go back, bracing yourself for the same conversation again.

Round and round it goes.

The Myth That Fat People Caused Healthcare Costs

At some point in my life, someone actually said this to my face:

“You know, people being overweight are the main reason healthcare is so expensive.”

Apparently, I personally destroyed the American healthcare system by enjoying bread.

The wild part is that statement usually comes from people who know nothing about my health history.

They don’t know my labs.

They don’t know my lifestyle.

They don’t know my genetics.

They just see a body and make a judgment.

And unfortunately, sometimes that same judgment slips into medical spaces too.

A Simple Request: Listen

Let me be clear about something.

I am not asking doctors to ignore weight.

Weight absolutely can affect health. It would be ridiculous to pretend otherwise.

But it should not be the only lens through which my health gets evaluated.

Because bodies are complex.

Pain has causes.

Hormones fluctuate.

Joints wear down.

And sometimes symptoms deserve investigation even if the patient happens to be overweight.

The Truth That Needs to Be Said

So let me say this clearly enough for the people in the back.

Fat women deserve proper healthcare.

We deserve to be heard.

We deserve real conversations, not automatic conclusions.

We deserve tests that search for root causes instead of assumptions that stop the investigation.

We deserve doctors who see a whole human being, not just a number blinking on a scale.

A Better Future for Women’s Healthcare

Women’s health has come a long way, but clearly we still have work to do.

We need more research that includes women of every body type.

We need medical training that addresses bias—both conscious and unconscious.

And we need healthcare environments where patients feel safe asking questions without fear of being dismissed.

Because when patients feel heard, they engage more in their care.

When they feel respected, they trust the system.

And when they trust the system, everyone benefits.

The Ending We All Deserve

I walked out of my appointment today thinking about something simple.

Healthcare should not make people feel small.

It should not make people feel ashamed.

And it certainly should not make people feel invisible.

Instead, healthcare should start with listening.

It should continue with curiosity.

And it should end with partnership—two people working together to figure out what a body needs in order to thrive.

So here’s my closing thought.

If you work in medicine, please hear this:

The number on the scale is not the whole story.

Behind that number sits a woman with a history, a family, a body, a mind, and a voice that deserves to be taken seriously.

And until every woman—no matter her size—can walk into a doctor’s office without fear of being dismissed, the conversation about women’s health is far from finished.