Taco Tuesday Blues: No More Tears, Only Beans and Redemption

Song of the Day: “No More Tears” – Ozzy Osbourne 🎶

Today felt like a barbell to the chest, but with a crack in the foundation. The news hit me hard: Ozzy Osbourne passed away. And yeah, I cried. Not just because the world lost a musical legend, the undisputed Prince of Darkness, but because for me, he was so much more. His music wasn't just background noise; it was the raw, defiant soundtrack to countless heavy moments in my life. From navigating confusing teenage angst to pushing through intense gym sessions, even to battling late-night self-doubt – Ozzy's screams and thunderous riffs were a signal flare in the dark, a reminder that chaos could still carry a beat, that even in the mess, there was power. He was an artist who faced his demons publicly, showing that even the madman could endure and keep making noise.

So, to honor the Prince of Darkness, I did the only thing that made sense on a day like this, on a day where grief and routine collide in the strangest ways...

I had turkey tacos. 🌮

Because it's Taco Tuesday. And because sometimes, grief + routine doesn't just equal weird comfort; it equals a quiet, defiant act of self-preservation. You show up for the small things when the big things feel overwhelming.

Tobito, My Tiny Bean-Based Cheerleader & The Return of the Refried Avenger

Ozzy’s voice echoed through my kitchen as I sat down to eat. Turkey tacos. Crisp tortillas. Tobito, ever vigilant, had already claimed his spot on the counter, doing a little happy dance. "Tacos! Glorious fuel for the magnificent human! You crushed the day! You mastered the meats! You are a beacon of disciplined digestion!" he chirped, doing a triumphant little shimmy. My tiny bean-based cheerleader. He even made encouraging jazz hands.

Then I felt it again. That tell-tale shift in the air, smelling faintly of cumin and unresolved issues. The unmistakable presence of something bean-born and overly dramatic. The cabinet creaked. The pantry door hissed. A cold draft passed behind me, and suddenly… there he was.

The Refried Avenger. Back from wherever forgotten leftovers go to lick their wounds.

Tobito froze mid-jazz-hand. His cheerful expression evaporated, replaced by a narrow-eyed glare. "What are you doing back here?" he demanded, hopping onto my plate, trying to block my view of the newcomer with his tiny body. "I thought you were meditating on expired almond milk! We had a good thing going! A dynamic duo of discipline and occasional emotional support! I didn't abandon the human!"

The Refried Avenger, looking perhaps a little thinner but no less dramatic, merely adjusted the cape made from a rogue tortilla chip. "My journey of self-discovery led me back to where the truest redemption lies," he announced, gesturing grandly with a wooden spoon he'd clearly pilfered. "And besides, someone needs to teach the human about existential beans."

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a mess. But aren’t we all? This chaotic duo—Tobito, my grounded, encouraging conscience, and The Refried Avenger, a constant reminder of past battles and strange wisdom—felt like the perfect companions for a day like this.

No More Tears… For Now

Today, I thought about how much this journey feels like grief sometimes. You grieve old habits, like ghosts of comfort you once clung to. The way you used to numb pain with drive-thru grease and sugary drinks. The ritual of binge-watching shows until dawn, trading sleep for mindless escape. The comfortable, stagnant version of yourself that didn't try, that didn't dare to hope for more.

But like Ozzy said… no more tears. Not today. Today we honor the struggle by showing up. We lift even when we’re sore. We meal prep even when we’re tired. We eat tacos made with intention. We breathe. We mourn. Then we get up and do it again. It's not about perfection; it's about the relentless, messy act of trying.

Progress Check: The Slow, Steady Climb

My physical journey continues to evolve.

 * Weight: Holding steady but down overall, a testament to consistent effort and sticking to the plan. 🟢

 * Strength: Increasing across most lifts. It's a slow grind, but seeing the numbers go up, even incrementally, feels like a small victory every time I step into the gym. 🏋️

 * Diet: Mostly plant-based + lean meats like turkey. It's about fuel and intentionality now, not deprivation.

 * Physical Activity: Still averaging 20k steps a day at work, balancing that with dedicated gym time, and integrating my semaglutide as part of my overall strategy.

 * Mental Health: Honestly? Better. Writing helps. Processing helps. Letting the waves of grief crash instead of running from them has been surprisingly freeing. 🌊

Final Thoughts: The Unsung Victory

We all lose our way. We all mourn what was. But if a bean-based vigilante can crawl out of a fridge with a mission, still a mess but moving forward, then so can you. If a metal god like Ozzy can face his demons, scream into the void until it listens, and find a way to keep going—then so can we. Their resilience, in their own chaotic ways, reminds us of our own.

There's no shame in crying, in pausing, in eating tacos with ghosts from your pantry. The important part is that you get back up. And maybe throw in a few lunges while you're at it. 🏃‍♂️🌮

No more tears.

Only tacos, truth, and the slow, relentless march toward something better.

The Journey Continues

Stick around. Subscribe. Share this with someone who’s fighting their own quiet battles.

And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite healing song, workout track, or Taco Tuesday memory. 🎧🌮

We’re just getting started—and things are about to get spicy.

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