Tiny Buddha

Tag: body

  • When Your Body Betrays You: Finding Strength in a New Identity

    When Your Body Betrays You: Finding Strength in a New Identity

    “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~Rumi

    I didn’t know what it meant to grieve a body that was still alive until mine turned on me.

    It began like a whisper—fatigue that lingered, strange symptoms that didn’t match, a quiet fear I tried to ignore.

    Then one night, I collapsed. I woke up in a hospital room I didn’t recognize, attached to IVs I hadn’t agreed to, surrounded by medical voices that spoke in certainty while I sat in confusion.

    It wasn’t just a diagnosis I was given. It was a line in the sand.

    Before that night, I thought I knew who I was. I had moved across the world for love, leaving behind my home, my language, my work, my identity. I thought that leap of faith had already redefined me.

    I was wrong.

    Illness Doesn’t Just Change Your Health; It Changes Everything

    When you live with chronic illness, the world doesn’t change with you.

    Everyone else keeps moving. Fast.

    Meanwhile, your pace slows to survival mode. Appointments become your calendar. You measure your days in energy—not hours. You go from thinking “I’m strong” to wondering “Am I weak now?” And the hardest part is, people still see you as who you were before.

    But inside, you’re unraveling.

    I remember standing in the shower, my hands trembling, trying to wash my hair, crying because I couldn’t lift my arms long enough. I remember sitting in a café with friends pretending I was fine, while every muscle screamed. I remember how silence became my shield because explaining felt harder than hiding.

    I Had to Mourn My Old Self

    No one tells you how much grief comes with getting sick.

    Yes, I mourned the physical freedom I lost. But more than that, I grieved who I thought I was. The capable one. The dependable one. The one who could do it all.

    I had been that woman.

    Now I couldn’t even cook dinner some nights, let alone help others like I used to.

    And it made me angry. Sad. Ashamed.

    Illness stole not just my stamina but also the image I held of myself. That was the most painful part. I didn’t know where I fit anymore. I wasn’t who I used to be, but I wasn’t sure who I was now.

    The Turning Point Wasn’t Dramatic; It Was Quiet

    Healing didn’t arrive with fanfare. There was no great epiphany.

    It came one small moment at a time.

    The first shift happened when I stopped fighting what was. I realized I couldn’t move forward until I stopped clinging to the past. That realization didn’t heal my body, but it softened my soul.

    And that softness became the doorway to something new.

    I began to see that maybe the goal wasn’t to get back to who I was but to become who I could still be.

    That gave me hope—not because things got easier, but because I wasn’t resisting everything anymore.

    What Helped Me Rebuild from the Inside Out

    If you’re facing a change you didn’t choose, especially one that lives inside your body, I want to offer you what I needed most: permission to become someone new.

    Here are a few things that helped me begin again—not as a fix, but as a practice:

    Grieve the old version of you. Seriously.

    Don’t rush past your sadness. Say goodbye to the “you” who did it all, carried everything, said yes, pushed through. That person mattered. They were real. They deserve your tears.

    Grieving isn’t weakness—it’s the beginning of truth.

    Redefine strength.

    Strength is not being able to run five miles or check every task off your list.

    Strength is waking up in pain and choosing to get up anyway—or choosing to rest instead of proving something.

    Strength is asking for help when your whole identity was built around helping others.

    Stop waiting to feel like your old self.

    The truth? You may never feel like your old self again.

    But that’s not a tragedy—it’s an invitation. To live differently. To deepen. To slow down. To choose softness over striving.

    Some days that will feel like a loss. Other days, it will feel like grace.

    Let others in—selectively, honestly.

    It’s okay if most people don’t understand. Find the few who do, or who are willing to listen without needing to fix.

    Speak even when your voice shakes. Share even when you don’t have a tidy ending.

    You’ll be surprised how many people whisper “me too.”

    Make peace with the pause.

    You’re not falling behind. You’re not broken.

    You’re simply in a new season. One that asks different things of you.

    Don’t measure your worth by how fast you move. Measure it by how deeply you stay with yourself, especially on the hard days.

    I wish I could tell you that I handled all of this with grace from the beginning. But the truth is, I resisted every part of it.

    I wanted my old life back. I wanted to prove I was still the same person. So I kept pushing—ignoring symptoms, pretending to be okay, trying to keep up.

    That only deepened the exhaustion, physically and emotionally. My body would shut down for days. I would hide in bed, ashamed that I couldn’t ‘push through’ like I used to.

    What I didn’t realize then was that trying to be who I used to be was costing me who I was becoming.

    There’s a moment I remember vividly: I was sitting at my kitchen table, the afternoon light pouring in. I had a warm cup of tea in my hand. And for once, there was no rush. No guilt. Just a breath. Just presence.

    It wasn’t a breakthrough. But it was something. A tiny opening. A softness. I remember thinking: maybe I don’t need to heal back into the person I was. Maybe I can heal forward.

    This mindset shift changed everything.

    It didn’t fix the illness. But it fixed the part of me that kept believing I had to earn rest, prove my worth, or hide my pain.

    Now, when the flare-ups come—and they still do—I try to meet them with compassion instead of frustration. I speak to myself like I would to someone I love.

    On the outside, not much has changed. But inside? I’ve made space. Space to be exactly who I am, even in discomfort. Even in uncertainty.

    To anyone reading this who feels like their body has betrayed them—who wakes up wondering who they are now—I want to say this: your softness is strength. Your slowness is sacred. Your survival is heroic.

    Even if the world doesn’t see it, I do. And I hope someday, you will too.

    You Are Still You

    There are moments, even now, when I miss who I was before the diagnosis. I miss the energy. The ease. The certainty.

    But I wouldn’t trade what I’ve found: A self that is more tender. More present. More aware of what really matters.

    Illness taught me to slow down. To let go. To stop living as a checklist.

    And it taught me that I’m still worthy, even when I’m not productive.

    If you’re in the middle of an identity shift—whether from illness, loss, divorce, or something else—you are not alone. You’re not broken. And you don’t need to rush toward reinvention.

    You are still you. Just different.

    And that different might be where the real light gets in.

  • When the Body Freezes: On Love and Grief in Midlife

    When the Body Freezes: On Love and Grief in Midlife

    “I was constantly seeking a balance between mourning what’s already been lost, making space for the time and moments we still had left, and making sense of this complicated process that felt like my heart was split between two contrasting realities: hope and heartbreak.” ~Liz Newman

    There is a quiet heaviness that begins to settle into many of us in midlife.

    It doesn’t announce itself with drama. It slips in through unanswered emails from an aging parent, through half-slept nights spent wondering how we will ever afford live-in care, or whether that one fall they had was the beginning of the end.

    It’s not grief exactly. It’s the shadow of grief that lingers before the loss, that creeps in through ordinary moments and whispers that everything is slowly, quietly, but undeniably changing.

    My mother has Parkinson’s. She lives alone in the UK while I live abroad—untethered by design, a traveling healer by choice—except now that freedom feels like it comes at a cost I never calculated.

    She has started falling. Backwards. Her voice is nearly gone. I can barely understand her over the phone anymore, and every time she forgets a detail or struggles to find a word, my stomach knots.

    I wonder when the dementia will get worse and instead of only forgetting my birthday, she will also forget about me: her eldest daughter. I wonder how long she can live on her own. I wonder what happens when things really go south.

    And I panic.

    The truth is, I can’t just pack up and move to the UK. Not anymore. Not with Brexit and visa restrictions. These days, my visits are brief, limited to a few weeks or months at a time. Right now, I’m here for the summer, doing what I can while I can.

    Add to that the financial uncertainty of running a healing business and the lack of steady income to support full-time care. The weight of it all settles quietly. Like many of us, I carry it in silence and swallow the worry. I fold it into my body, into the slope of my shoulders. The right one, to be exact.

    Until one morning I wake up, and I can’t move my right arm the way I used to. Turning it inward sends a sharp pain up through my upper arm. At first, I think I must have slept weirdly. But when the pain lingers for days, my hypochondriac side takes over. I start googling symptoms. And frozen shoulder pops up.

    I pause. Then I type in “spiritual meaning of frozen shoulder.”

    And everything clicks.

    In spiritual traditions, the shoulder is where we carry burdens that were never ours. It’s where we hold onto responsibility, overcare, and all the invisible weight of things unsaid.

    When a shoulder freezes, it may be our body’s way of saying, “I can’t carry this anymore.”

    A frozen shoulder can also signify:

    • Suppressed grief or emotion, often near the heart
    • Over-responsibility and carrying others’ pain
    • Fear of moving forward, or feeling stuck
    • A lack of energetic boundaries
    • A subconscious attempt to halt motion when our lives demand change

    All of these mirror how I feel about my mother. The anticipatory grief. The helplessness. The guilt. The stuckness of being in-between countries, in-between decisions, and in-between who I was and who I need to become. Wanting to take care of her and to sign the power of attorney papers and equally not wanting to do any of it because it’s just so damn painful.

    The Midlife Guilt That Has No Language

    There is no manual for this phase of life. For the moment when your mother still lives but is slipping. When you are still someone’s child but also now the one silently parenting the parent. When love no longer feels light but edged with dread and uncertainty.

    And unlike childhood, this stage has no defined rite of passage. We often endure it quietly, bravely, invisibly. We plan around it. We work through it. We cry into our pillows about it.

    We don’t want to be seen as selfish. We don’t want to fail them. We don’t want to map a life of meaning only to feel like we missed the most important chapter back home. And then the body begins to speak.

    Reclaiming the Self While Loving the Mother

    Healing my shoulder may take time. Physically and emotionally. But it has also been an invitation to ask: Where am I over-caring? Where am I still trying to prove my worth through sacrifice? What if I let myself hold love and limits?

    Maybe I don’t need to force myself to stay for an entire summer out of guilt that I otherwise don’t live nearby.

    I don’t yet have all the answers about my mother’s care. But I know this:

    • I don’t need to disappear to honor her: I don’t need to dim my joy in front of her so she doesn’t feel the contrast of what she’s lost.
    • I don’t need to break to be a good daughter: I don’t need to say yes to every request out of fear that one day, she won’t be able to ask, nor do I need to say “I’m fine” when I’m anything but.
    • I don’t need to put my dreams on hold to make up for the years I wasn’t there, or carry the weight of what I couldn’t prevent.

    Maybe the most radical thing we can do, in a world where many of us live oceans away from aging parents, is to stop blending ourselves into the expectations of those who stayed behind. Our parents. Our siblings. The ancestral and societal chorus of “You owe them everything.”

    Because the truth is we can’t always return. Not like generations before. The village is gone, the visa expired, the life we’ve built stretches across time zones and cultures.

    Maybe we need to learn to soften the guilt without hardening our hearts. I wonder if we can learn how to grieve the distance without erasing ourselves. Can we find a new kind of middle path where love is not measured by geography but by presence, honesty, and the quiet ways we still show up?

    What if love is no longer a burden carved from duty but a bond held with tenderness and boundaries?

    If your shoulder aches too, or your chest feels heavy or your body is acting up in any way, pause. Because we were never meant to disappear into devotion and carry too much. We were meant to love with presence. To grieve with grace. And to remain visible, even while honoring those we come from.

    I have come up with a few journaling prompts I will journal through myself. If they are in any way helpful on your own journey, please feel free to do the same:

    Journaling Prompts for the Tender Weight We Carry

    1. Where in my body am I holding what feels too heavy to say aloud? What does this part of me wish I would finally hear or honor?

    2. What roles or responsibilities have I inherited culturally, ancestrally, or emotionally that no longer feel sustainable? Am I willing to release or reimagine them?

    3. When I think of caring for my aging parent, what emotions arise beneath the surface and beyond obligation? What fears, guilt, or grief live there?

    4. What does love look like without self-sacrifice? Can I write a version of devotion that includes my wholeness?

    5. If my body were writing me a letter right now about how I’ve been living, what would it say? What boundaries or changes might it ask me to consider?

    If you do, share in the comments what realizations came up for you.

  • How to Enjoy Food and Feel Good in Your Skin

    How to Enjoy Food and Feel Good in Your Skin

    Have you ever felt like fat and food were your enemies? Like everything would be better if you could just lose weight—and eat whatever you want without consequence?

    I felt that way for much of my childhood and teens, when unresolved trauma and low self-esteem led to a long battle with food and my body.

    I struggled with bulimia for over a decade, starting at twelve. And though I technically “recovered” in my early twenties, I spent years after trapped in rigid food rules and a lingering fear of eating the “wrong” thing.

    It wasn’t until my thirties that I finally felt free with food and truly comfortable in my own skin.

    So many of us struggle with food in ways that profoundly affect our lives.

    We eat to numb, then restrict to “make up” for it. We obsess over every bite, or we check out entirely. We feel ashamed of our habits, uncomfortable in our bodies, and unsure how to break the cycle.

    And the worst part? It can completely consume our lives.

    When food feels like a source of stress, it’s hard to be fully present. It’s hard to feel confident. It’s hard to enjoy much of anything.

    But when you change your relationship with food—when eating feels enjoyable, your body feels like home, and you’re not constantly judging yourself—everything gets better. Your energy, your self-esteem, your day-to-day happiness.

    Since I’ve lived both sides of this struggle, I’m passionate about sharing tools and teachers who help people find that same freedom. And it’s why I’m excited to introduce (or reintroduce) you to Jules Clancy, one of Tiny Buddha’s earliest contributors (from 2011) and this month’s sponsor.

    Jules is a former food scientist turned health coach who’s dealt with binge eating herself, so she understands both the biology and the emotional side of food struggles. She’s offering a free 31-minute training called:

    The Secret to Eating What You Want AND Feeling Good in Your Clothes

    In this short but powerful workshop, Jules shares:

    • The 3 essential skills for a naturally healthy relationship with food
    • 6 sneaky reasons past efforts haven’t worked (so you can do things differently now)
    • The 3 phases of healthy eating (so you know what you’re working toward)
    • A surprisingly simple, non-restrictive approach to nutrition
    • And a small, doable first step to help you eat with more ease and enjoyment

    Jules’ approach is warm, down-to-earth, and backed by both science and experience. And while she offers a paid program as well, the free training alone is incredibly insightful and actionable.

    If food has been a source of guilt or stress and you’re ready to feel calm and confident instead, I highly recommend checking out the free webinar.

    You can sign up for instant access here.

    I hope it’s helpful to you!

  • The Trauma in Our Tissues and How I’m Setting Myself Free

    The Trauma in Our Tissues and How I’m Setting Myself Free

    “I feel like I can see with my whole body,” I said to my peer after our last session exchange.

    As part of my ongoing growth and development as a practitioner, I regularly participate in somatic therapy exchanges with a small group of peers.

    On completion of our last session, I found myself sitting with a sense of a quiet, steady seeing, almost like sitting on the top of a mountain, rooted to the earth, not a breath of wind, and a 360-degree view of not just the world around me but of it within me, and me within it.

    It felt as though I had stepped into a deeper dimension of perception, where sight wasn’t limited to my eyes but woven into my body’s knowing.

    It was unfamiliar, but a place where I felt a deep sense of being able to rest. Completely.

    I came to her that morning wanting to work on the shock I felt I was still carrying from the day—twelve years ago—when I learned my partner had taken his life. I’ve done a lot of work over the years, but the impact of this moment in time was still untouched.

    As we prepared for our session, I felt a fluttering in my chest and a mild contraction behind my heart and upper torso.

    “I feel a little fear…” I shared with her, knowing that this was normal and the very reason I had yet to touch how my body had stored the impact of this day.

    Often the places we fear the most are exactly where we need to go.

    I recalled the memory of traveling down the small bitumen road leading to the gravel driveway of our family home. We lived on two acres in a beautiful community in semirural NSW. My dear friend, who unbeknownst to me had already been informed of what had happened, was driving, as I was five months pregnant and overwhelmed with emotion.

    That morning, we had gone to the local police station to report him missing. He had not been answering his phone and had not turned up at work that day. His closest friend had not heard from him, and neither had I.

    We all knew something was amiss.

    As we turned onto our property, we were met with a row of cars scattered outside the entrance. My breath caught in my chest, my eyes widened and darted, taking in the cars and the close friends walking toward me through the front door. The moment felt so surreal; I knew something was terribly wrong.

    There is a moment in time where our nervous system perceives what the eyes have yet to see. A deeper knowing that, much like an animal in the wild who can feel the storm before it arrives, braces itself against the danger afoot.

    I don’t know when that initial moment was for me. Whether it was when I spoke to his work and was advised he hadn’t turned up, when I went to the police, when my friend stood to take a private call while we were waiting for the police to contact us, or when we turned the car to drive down the little bitumen road, right before the tree canopy parted to expose the cars scattered outside my home.

    When it comes to shock trauma, the brainstem registers the shock before it has even happened. And the body, in response, braces.

    I was already bracing as I exited the car, tightening further as I met the eyes of my friend walking out of the front door, and then at the nod of his head, my world stopped and my body locked.

    I had shared with my colleague that morning that I felt like I was bracing. That in my deepest moments of meditation, I could feel a very deep clench. That sometimes I wake with a very subtle but palpable internal holding, a contraction deeper than I could touch on my own. I also shared that I felt this bracing was impacting my health.

    For many years, I have worked diligently on restoring my health. Spending thousands upon thousands. Recovering from severe biotoxin poisoning, chronic fatigue, and burnout from the trauma of the relationship, the trauma of his death, and all of the survival stress beyond.

    Though I have come a very long way, I know there is still a way to go. Peeling away layer by layer.

    Our session met one of those layers.

    Releasing trauma can often appear as a tremor. A tremble. It can show up in the arms, hands, legs, feet, or anywhere in the body, visible to another in its release. And it can also be held deep inside, in tissues that never see the light of day.

    Twenty-five minutes into our session, I felt a subtle internal tremble. It felt almost like an electric shock. A tremor that started in my cervical spine, just under the occiput, the back part of the skull at the base of the head where the skull meets the spine, and rippled to the bones protecting the back of my heart, and there it stopped.

    I had been sitting in silence with myself, noticing sensations in my body and allowing my body to direct me to where the bracing was. Sensing, feeling, and ‘being with’ all that arose. Offering simple, loving presence.

    It took all of three seconds from start to finish for this seismic ripple to initiate a wave through my body that was literally like a soul-level shudder—a deep unwinding pulse—reaching into the very fabric of stored experience so that it may unravel.

    It was sudden, potent, and gone in an instant. And then something unlocked, I took a deep breath, and I wept.

    I grieved in a way I had not yet done for what was lost that day. For him. For me. For my children. For his family. For the ripple effect of his choice.

    I cried an ocean of tears for days. Tears that were locked within the fortress of my body, held in place by years of survival, tension, and bracing.

    In my own attempt to manage the intensity of the event, my own vulnerability of being pregnant at the time, and all that came after it, I had braced against the news of his death and the aftermath. I had braced against the reality of mothering alone. I had braced against my breath. I had braced against all of it.

    Over the years, I thought I had worked through all of that, but deep down inside, I was still bracing.

    As I cried, I softened.

    The walls that once held so firm began to melt a little, and in their place, there was space. A vast, quiet openness where my breath could move freely, where my body no longer clenched against itself or life.

    I felt lighter. Not in the way of something missing but in the way of something finally released.

    I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I could finally exhale.

    This is what I was holding. This is what I was not feeling. What I was unable to feel at the time because my body was primed to protect my unborn child. This was what my body had been orienting around for the last decade.

    Holding in these tears, holding in the shock, holding in the fear.

    This is where deep unraveling happens. This is why we work with the body.

    I can’t say that all was released in that session, but I can say that the earth cracked open enough for me to feel a space within my being that is unfamiliar and yet also feels very much like what a deeper part of me knows as home.

    In the days that followed, I moved differently. I breathed differently. I noticed the absence of a tension I had carried so long it had become invisible, woven into the fabric of my being. And with its release, even more presence to be with what is, rather than bracing against what was.

    This is what the body holds.

    Not just the stories, not just the memories, but the impact of them, the ways we shape ourselves around survival. And this is why we must listen, not just with the mind, but with the body itself.

    Because healing isn’t about erasing the past. It’s about unwinding from it.

    It’s about reclaiming the space within us that trauma occupied. It’s about finding breath where there was constriction, movement where there was rigidity, presence where there was absence.

    And ultimately, it’s about coming back to ourselves. Whole. Embodied. Free.

    As I continue on this journey, I find myself increasingly aware of how much of our lives—the obstacles we face and the emotional, health, and relational challenges we experience—are shaped by the events we have yet to truly feel.

    Trauma, shock, old wounds, and all that we hold in our tissues don’t disappear because we ignore them; they settle into our body, like dust gathering on the shelves of a forgotten room, firing the lens through which we see, live, and breathe, waiting for the moment when we are courageous enough to turn towards them instead of away.

    I recognize that the path of healing is not linear, nor a one-time fix or a quick release. It’s a constant process of coming back to the body, coming back to the breath, and coming back to ourselves. The layers that we peel back, slowly, patiently, hold not just pain but also possibility in their wake; and in the space after each unraveling, we move closer to the wholeness that resides within us all, buried beneath years of survival, and the quiet, fertile ground of presence.

    By listening deeply to our body and holding space for ourselves with compassion and presence, we give ourselves permission to unravel and heal. We make room for the truth of what happened, and in doing so, we make room for the truth of who we are beyond the trauma.

    I don’t know what the future holds or how many more layers I’ll uncover, but I do know this: A part of me is no longer bracing. That part is here. Present. With all of it. And in this presence, I find the gift of peace.

    And maybe, just maybe, that is where true freedom begins.

  • What Happened When I Stopped Ignoring My Body

    What Happened When I Stopped Ignoring My Body

    “When we listen to our body with kindness, we honor the present moment and give ourselves the care we truly need.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    It started back in middle school for me—the need to feel thin in my English riding breeches. I’d compare myself to others at the barn—the ones with the long, slender legs and tiny waists. My thirteen-year-old self wasn’t willing to be chubby; though, looking back, I realize that was only in my own eyes.

    What I didn’t know then was that by ignoring my hunger, my cravings, and my body’s messages, I was also silencing my own voice. It would take decades before I learned that listening to my body was not just about food—it was an act of love.

    At first, I learned to override my body’s cues—hunger, cravings, thirst, even sadness.

    Slowly, over time, I tuned out every signal my body sent me.

    When I look back now, I see that I was restricting “just enough” to fly under the radar, but honestly, I’m not sure my parents would have noticed. Not noticing was the theme of my adolescence.

    In college, I was a vegetarian and an athlete. Rowing seemed like the logical next step from horseback riding. I loved being on the water, and I loved the challenge. And I needed to be distracted. What better way to avoid myself than a full course load, twice-a-day practices, and a part-time job?

    I asked a lot of my body during this time, while still locked in full-blown disordered eating. I ran on quick-burning, simple carbohydrates—donuts, Pop-Tarts, and a whole lot of Swedish Fish. And on weekends? Alcohol and pot took over. I numbed, I ran, I ignored.

    When I moved to Montana at age twenty, I packed up my disordered eating and body dysmorphia and took them with me. Rowing had made me bulky, with big lats, huge arms, and solid thighs. So, in the only way I knew, I restricted fully—until I felt light in my body again. Not too thin, just enough to stay unnoticed.

    Settled in Montana, I ate one meal a day—if you could call it that. Honey on white toast, a latte with two pumps of vanilla. I was walking around in a fog, going to class, working, partying, drifting without direction or self-awareness. When I look back on that time, I want to hug the girl I was. My body, my heart—they were doing everything they could to keep me going.

    I wish I could say there was a single, defining moment that changed everything. But healing wasn’t a sudden revelation—it was a slow unfolding, like the first light of dawn after a long night. A gradual awakening to myself, one small act of listening at a time.

    The shift began, almost unknowingly, when I joined the local food co-op. Fresh food was abundant, and unwittingly, I found role models in the shoppers around me. They looked vibrant, grounded. Healthy. I wanted that.

    I began noticing things. My usual cow milk latte left my heart racing, my stomach bloated, rashes appearing on my arms. So I experimented. I learned to cook. I added in different foods. I started eating meat again.

    One day, I realized that the fog in my brain had lifted—just slightly. And I wanted more of that. I was craving something new—something I had never craved before. Health. Clarity.

    For the first time, I didn’t see cravings as something to fight but as information.

    My sugar cravings weren’t a moral failing; they were my body begging for nourishment after years of restriction.

    My exhaustion wasn’t something to push through; it was a plea for rest.

    When I approached my body with curiosity instead of judgment, I finally started to hear what it had been trying to tell me all along.

    And so, I went along. I met a lovely man who lit me up, and we married. Years later, we had a son, the apple of my eye.

    Being in a relationship, caring for another human—it was tricky at first. I was still a fledgling cue reader, still learning how to listen to my own needs while meeting the needs of others.

    Before I met my husband, I had slowly begun healing from childhood wounds. It was a bumpy road, full of missteps, but I kept at it. I practiced tuning in, listening with curiosity. Noticing when judgment arose—because judgment had always been my first language—and replacing it with compassion. Asking my body what it needed and, for once, responding with care.

    I began caring for myself as I would care for my child—with tenderness, patience, and deep love. I swapped sugar for whole, nourishing foods, not out of punishment but because my body wanted them. I stopped running myself ragged and, instead, allowed myself to rest.

    Now, at fifty, my son has flown the nest, and my husband and I are celebrating twenty-four years together. My old friends—disordered eating and body image struggles—still visit sometimes, especially as I navigate menopause. But now, I meet them differently.

    I don’t fight them, and I don’t let them take over. I simply ask, What are you here to tell me?

    Because now I know: Listening to my body isn’t about control or discipline. It’s about love.

    And in that listening, I find my way home to myself, again and again.

  • How I Learned to Love the (Aging) Girl in the Mirror

    How I Learned to Love the (Aging) Girl in the Mirror

    The most profound personal growth happens when we stop running from our pain and start listening to what it’s trying to teach us.

    For years, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

    Her body felt foreign—betraying her with weight she couldn’t lose, hot flashes that set her skin on fire, and exhaustion so deep, it felt like her soul was crumbling. Her mind, once sharp and confident, was now clouded with doubt, anxiety, and brain fog so thick she could barely think.

    But the hardest part?

    She didn’t just feel different. She felt invisible.

    I was that woman.

    A pharmacist. A mother. A wife. A woman who had spent decades helping others navigate their health, only to find myself drowning in my own. I was in my forties, staring down the barrel of perimenopause, but I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was that my body was breaking down, my emotions were unraveling, and no one—not even my doctors—could tell me why.

    So, like any overwhelmed, desperate woman, I did what I thought I was supposed to do.

    I went to my doctor.

    And, like so many women before me, I left with a handful of prescriptions that did nothing but mask my symptoms and a vague, dismissive diagnosis:

    “You’re just getting older. It’s normal. You’ll be fine.”

    But I wasn’t fine. And I knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just “aging.”

    That was the moment I realized: If I wanted answers, I was going to have to find them myself.

    Breaking Up with the Lies I Believed About Myself

    It took years for me to unlearn what I had been taught about women’s health.

    I was a pharmacist, after all. I had spent my entire career dispensing medications, trusting the guidelines, believing that if something was truly wrong, there would be a pill to fix it.

    But what I never learned in pharmacy school was how to truly heal.

    That healing doesn’t come in a prescription bottle. That it isn’t about “powering through” or “sucking it up.”

    It’s about listening to your body instead of fighting against it.

    And that meant I had to start seeing my body, not as something that was failing me, but as something that was trying to speak to me.

    The weight gain? That was my body saying, “Something isn’t right. Pay attention.”

    The hot flashes? “Your hormones are shifting. Don’t ignore me.”

    The anxiety and depression? “Your body is in survival mode. Let’s figure out why.”

    For the first time in my life, I stopped fighting myself.

    I started learning about functional medicine, hormone balance, and the intricate ways our bodies change as we age. I discovered that perimenopause wasn’t just “the beginning of the end” but a crucial transition that—if supported properly—could actually lead to my healthiest, most vibrant years.

    I realized that hormones rule everything, and when they’re out of balance, nothing works the way it should.

    But more than that, I started to see how deeply my self-worth was tied to my physical body.

    I thought if I gained weight, I was less valuable.

    I thought if I struggled, I was weak.

    I thought if I couldn’t figure it out, I was failing.

    I had to break up with those beliefs.

    The Hardest (and Most Important) Lesson

    The hardest part of my healing journey wasn’t changing my diet, adjusting my lifestyle, or even balancing my hormones.

    It was learning to love the girl in the mirror again.

    Not just when she looked “good.”

    Not just when she felt confident.

    Not just when she fit into her favorite jeans.

    But when she was struggling.

    When she was exhausted.

    When she was bloated, broken out, and sobbing on the bathroom floor because she felt like she was losing herself.

    Because the truth is, healing doesn’t start with a diet plan or a hormone protocol. Healing starts when you decide you are worthy of feeling better. And that means learning to love yourself—even when you don’t feel lovable.

    Even when your body is changing.

    Even when your energy is gone.

    Even when your reflection doesn’t match the way you feel inside.

    Because you are not broken.

    And menopause? Perimenopause? The hormonal rollercoaster that makes you feel like you’re losing your mind?

    It’s not the end of you.

    It’s the beginning of a new version of you. A wiser, bolder, stronger you. A version that doesn’t shrink herself for others. A version that doesn’t put herself last. A version that knows she is still powerful, radiant, and worthy—at any age.

    And when you finally see her—really see her—you’ll never let her go again.

    If You’re Struggling Right Now, Read This

    If you are sitting in your car after a doctor’s appointment where they dismissed your symptoms…

    If you are staring at your reflection, feeling like a stranger in your own skin…

    If you are exhausted, overwhelmed, and wondering if you will ever feel like yourself again…

    Please hear me when I say:

    There is hope. You are not crazy. You are not imagining things. Your body is speaking to you, and it’s time to start listening.

    Do the research.

    Ask the hard questions.

    Get the right testing.

    Eat the foods that fuel you.

    Move your body in ways that bring you joy.

    But most of all, love yourself through it.

    Because this is not the end.

    It’s just the beginning.

    And you, dear, are just getting started.

    And that is how I started learning to love the girl in the mirror.

  • A New Understanding of True Health: 6 Practical Tips

    A New Understanding of True Health: 6 Practical Tips

    “Your body is precious. It is your vehicle for awakening. Treat it with care.” ~Buddha

    For years, I thought I was healthy. I was eating what I thought was a “balanced” diet, working out regularly (mostly cardio and HIIT), and I felt like I was ticking all the boxes for self-care. On the surface, everything seemed fine. I thought I had health all figured out.

    But the truth is, I wasn’t actually healthy. I was caught up in a cycle of restriction and over-exercise, trying to make my body fit a version of health that wasn’t serving me. I was punishing my body, not nourishing it. And it wasn’t until I hit a breaking point that I finally started to question everything I thought I knew about health and well-being.

    The Illusion of “Being Healthy”

    Growing up, like most, I was surrounded by diet culture. Thinness was celebrated, and I was constantly told that my worth was tied to how I looked. I learned to equate “health” with being skinny, and any deviation from that ideal felt like failure.

    This mindset became a driving force in my life. I believed I had to earn my self-worth through extreme exercise and rigid food control. It wasn’t just about being healthy—it was about fitting into a certain mold. My body became a project, something to be molded, shaped, and controlled rather than something to be nurtured and cared for.

    I spent a lot of time believing I was healthy because I was always doing the “right things”—working out and eating “clean.” But I wasn’t really paying attention to how I felt. Cardio and random gym sessions were my go-to, and I never took any days off. The goal was always to burn calories, not to feel strong or energized. I thought that the more I exercised and the fewer calories I ate, the healthier I would become.

    And when it came to food, I was equally obsessed with control. I counted every calorie, avoided anything “bad,” and felt guilty every time I ate something that wasn’t on my list of approved foods. I never went out to eat, as it gave me too much anxiety. I wasn’t eating to nourish my body; I was eating to control it.

    Despite all these so-called “healthy” habits, I was exhausted. I was drained all the time, despite my best efforts to fuel myself with “good” food and work out regularly. My body was telling me something was off, but I wasn’t listening.

    The Wake-Up Call: Realizing I Wasn’t Truly Healthy

    The turning point came once I realized I was still unhappy with my body, even after pushing it to its limits. I had finally found myself in a healthy relationship, yet I was still trying to make myself as small as possible.

    That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t truly taking care of my body. I was pushing it too hard with exercise and restricting the food I ate, trying to mold it into some version of myself I thought was “healthy.”

    It was clear: Health isn’t about being obsessed with calories burned or how little I can eat. It’s about taking care of yourself holistically, nourishing your body, and respecting its signals.

    Strength Training: The Empowerment I Was Looking For

    Once I realized something had to change, I decided to shake up my routine. I swapped my hours of cardio for strength training with a plan. I was always under the impression that weightlifting would make me bulky, but I realized it was exactly what I had been missing. I wasn’t just exercising to burn calories or eating to punish myself—I was exercising and eating to become stronger, to take up space.

    Strength training taught me something profound: It’s not about punishing your body to fit into some ideal. It’s about building your body’s power and resilience, which translates to feeling stronger, more confident, and energized. I was working to feel strong and capable rather than just lean or toned. It wasn’t about what I looked like but how I felt in my own skin.

    As I started lifting weights, I noticed a huge shift. I felt more empowered. I was proud of my progress. Every time I got stronger, I felt more in tune with my body. I realized that true health comes from building resilience, not burning out.

    Nourishing My Body, Not Punishing It

    The next major shift for me was with food. I had spent so long treating food like the enemy—avoiding it, restricting it, and feeling guilty when I ate something “bad.” But I soon realized that nourishing my body was not about deprivation. It was about fueling it with the right nutrients to support my strength and energy.

    I started to focus on eating foods that made me feel good: healthy fats, lean proteins, complex carbs, and plenty of veggies. I stopped counting calories and started listening to my body. I ate when I was hungry and stopped when I was full, without guilt or shame.

    For the first time, food became a tool for nourishment, not something to control or punish myself with. I stopped labeling foods as “good” or “bad” and instead focused on what fueled my workouts, gave me energy, and helped me feel my best. Nourishing my body became a form of self-love.

    A New Understanding of True Health

    Looking back, I understand that true health isn’t about fitting into a particular mold or following strict rules. It’s not about punishing your body with excessive cardio or restricting what you eat. True health is about building a sustainable, balanced lifestyle that allows your body to thrive—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

    I thought I was healthy when I was obsessing over calories and pushing myself to exhaustion with cardio, but I was missing the bigger picture. Real health comes from nourishing your body, moving in ways that empower you, and caring for yourself with kindness and respect.

    Practical Tips for Shifting Toward True Health

    If you find yourself in a similar cycle of over-exercising, restricting food, and feeling drained, here are some tips to help you shift toward a more balanced approach.

    1. Focus on strength, not just cardio.

    If you’ve been stuck in a cardio-only routine, try adding two thirty-minute sessions of strength training per week. It doesn’t have to be intimidating. Start with bodyweight exercises or dumbbells and gradually increase the challenge as you build strength.

    2. Nourish your body.

    Shift your focus from restriction to nourishment. Eat foods that make you feel energized and strong—whole foods that support your body’s needs, like lean proteins, healthy fats, and lots of vegetables.

    3. Move with purpose.

    Instead of overdoing cardio, choose movements that make you feel good. Strength training, yoga, walking, swimming, or even dancing are great ways to stay active without overstressing your body.

    4. Let go of perfection.

    Health isn’t about being perfect; it’s about balance. Don’t stress about eating the “right” foods all the time or burning as many calories as you can. Focus on what makes you feel good and sustainable in the long run.

    5. Listen to your body.

    Your body is your guide. Pay attention to its signals. Eat when you’re hungry, move with purpose, and rest when you need to. Trust that your body knows what it needs to be healthy.

    6. Allow yourself to rest.

    Rest is just as important as movement. Don’t skip it! Your body needs time to recover and rebuild strength. Allow yourself to rest and recover without guilt.

  • The Epiphany That Freed Me from My Body Obsession

    The Epiphany That Freed Me from My Body Obsession

    “Your body is precious. It is your vehicle for awakening. Treat it with care.” ~Buddha

    What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear or see the word fitness? Do you think of an Olympic power lifting athlete, gymnast, or swimmer? The way we interpret and respond to the word fitness is a driver of physical health, but also our mental health.

    From a young age I associated health with fitness, which, to me, meant fitter is better. Society fed me the image of perfection. And so the chase of fitness became a moving target that could never be achieved.

    “I am strong, I am healthy,” I thought. I saw my physique as evidence of my ever-improving health. My fatigue and sore muscles were the price to pay for optimal health, or so I believed.

    Friends, family, folks at the gym, even strangers reaffirmed me by complimenting me on my body. This fueled my desire to continue “improving” my fitness.

    Like a house, foundation cracks take time to become problematic. For a while the cracks may go unnoticed. But then one day, leaks from a heavy rain begin to appear.

    Swapping nutrition for calorie-dense meals. Chugging shakes void of any enjoyment. Eating was becoming a chore and was no longer guided by my hunger, but instead by the precisely calculated macro nutrients needed to ensure I was meeting my calorie requirements to grow my muscles.

    Physically, I looked good, but I didn’t feel good. “What is wrong with me?” I wondered. I began to search for answers.

    Did I have low testosterone? Were there chemical imbalances that could be blamed for my insomnia, low mood, irritability, and anxiety?

    We hear these things all the time: Exercise your way to a better mood! Exercise helps you sleep! A fit body equals a fit mind!

    I ignored the cracks in the foundation for a while. It was easy given all the positive feedback I was receiving. I kept lying to myself: “This is happiness. I am happy!”

    I travel a lot. I enjoy seeing other cultures and meeting people. However, travel previously presented a problem: deviation from my exercise routine, thus derailing my goal of improved fitness.

    Even preparing for a trip became problematic. I’d find gyms at my destination and ensure the schedule or itinerary could accommodate.

    I never considered that I had an underlying issue as it related to my exercise, fitness, and physique because, again, society and everyone around me were telling me I was healthy in spoken and unspoken ways.

    The Cracks Begin to Worsen

    Fitness is not exponential. In fact, it is quite the opposite. “Gains” are more easily acquired when starting out and have diminishing returns as time passes. Despite knowing this concept from a biological perspective, logic didn’t win the day.

    Eventually, my time and energy yielded fewer tangible results. Maintaining what I had built took diligent planning in terms of nutrition and other activities. Simply stated, my physique started to rule my every move.

    Still naïve to the reality of what was going on, I decided my hormones must have been out of whack. While my testosterone was on the low end, it wasn’t terribly out of range. Even still, I decided to leap into the world of TRT (testosterone replacement therapy) in hopes that this would give me the boost I needed. (Note: This was under the supervision of a physician.)

    Again, the external affirmations began to flow. But something else happened, something more serious. I began paying the price for this new boost in the form of side effects.

    Insight: The Side Effect I Needed

    By now my life was entirely run by my desire for more “fitness.” But I began to wonder, “Do I really want to do this for the rest of my life?” I then experienced somewhat of an epiphany.

    The side effects and challenges with TRT served as a desperately needed wakeup call. I began to scrutinize my goals. I asked, “Are these goals serving me as a whole person? How could I have gotten so far off course? How did my passion for fitness and my desire for self-improvement lead me here? What am I doing to my body?”

    I realized with crystal clarity that I had conflated fitness for health and wellness. And more importantly, I started to understand that “fitness” should not be achieved at the expense of emotional and mental wellness. Fitness does not equal health.

    For some this might sound like a no-brainer. I knew that anxiety disorders and obsessive/compulsive disorders exist. What I didn’t know is that the phenomenon I was experiencing is far more prevalent than one can imagine.

    Blurred Lines

    We are fed from a very young age that fitness means strong, fast, and powerful, and that fitness is something you can see. My goodness, this couldn’t be farther from the truth.

    We are told to exercise and that exercise is good. And exercise is good, in moderation. However, unhealthy exercise is increasingly becoming problematic for a significant number of people worldwide. The obsession of supranormal musculature has gone from nonexistent to shockingly prevalent over the past half century.

    The line between healthy exercise and too much is often blurry because, on the surface, fitness looks healthy. We look at someone with a six-pack and think, “Oh, they’re healthy,” when in reality we have absolutely no way to holistically determine someone’s health just by looking at them.

    As I mentioned before, the calorie-stuffing and arguably obsessive-compulsive behaviors around eating take place at alarming levels in the “fitness” world.

    Body dysmorphia comes in many shades and is defined as a mental health condition where a person spends an excessive amount of time worrying about their appearance (Mayo Clinic).

    Accepting that I suffered from body dysmorphia was both freeing and disappointing. Freeing because I was no longer blind to the true source of my difficulties. Disappointing because I felt powerless on so many levels.

    Somewhere along the line the fruits of my exercise had become a source of validation for my worth and existence. Sure, being strong and fit is good, but at some point, that goal was 100 miles behind me.

    My New Perspective

    The side effects served as my awakening, and it was time to get to work. I know first-hand, from my work, that changing one’s perspective, though difficult, is doable. So I made it my mission.

    This process was slow. Relearning is as much biological as it is emotional in that creating new neurocircuitry doesn’t happen overnight.

    I started to conceptualize fitness as more than the summation of strength or speed. What if I include what I can’t see: how I feel, physically and emotionally?

    I reassessed my values and started making sure my goals were in sync with them.

    This new way of thinking demanded that I approach fitness and self-improvement from the inside out, not the outside in. The driving goal became a desire to feel whole, content, and enough.

    Before, I felt physically drained and fatigued. Emotionally, I felt empty, shallow, and lost. My motivation was external. My relationship with my body was one of disrespect.

    It took time, but I am now able to see physical activity in a new light—as a way to keep my body operating optimally. My relationship with food is driven by my desire to fuel my temple, to connect with nature as a sustaining source of life, and to replenish and nourish my life.

    Where I am Today

    I push myself physically, but not in the same way as before. Today, my body is my temple. I exercise several times a week, but I listen closely to my body’s whispers. Soreness and fatigue are signals that it is time for rest.

    I believe fitness is the byproduct of health, not the driving force. To me, fitness is not the reflection in the mirror. Fitness is how I feel physically and emotionally. Fitness is feeling whole.

    The improved relationship I have with myself is proving to be worth it many times over. My relationships with those close to me have improved. I feel at ease in the company of others because I’m not waiting for their affirmation to boost my self-worth.

    I know there will be good days, weeks, and months along with bad. But now that I have had a taste of stillness and peace, I am confident the good will outweigh the bad.

    My body is my best friend. I now treat it as such.

  • How to Free Yourself from Pain from the Past

    How to Free Yourself from Pain from the Past

    “There are two levels to your pain: the pain that you create now, and the pain from the past that still lives on in your mind and body.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    When I read this quote, it stopped me in my tracks. So much of our pain and suffering in the present is caused by us repeating cycles and dwelling on pain from the past. We want so badly to resolve our suffering. But our search for resolution often involves repeating the painful cycles we have already been through, in the hope that someone or something will change.

    How many of us have gone through a divorce and realized in the process that the whole relationship was a repeat of a painful relationship from our childhood? How many of us are realizing that we continue to attract the same kinds of people into our lives? People who take advantage of us, want to use us, or have some form of agenda that creates more pain and suffering.

    We live in our minds trying to think of all the ways we can protect ourselves and avoid more pain and suffering. The irony is that this inevitably creates more of what we are trying to avoid. This is because what we focus on, we create. The law of attraction is always at play.

    For years, I lived highly dependent on my mind. I thought that if I got all the psychology degrees, considered all possible future outcomes, and created a well-thought-out plan of action, I would be able to fix my pain and suffering and free myself for a life of meaning and purpose.

    It was devastating to realize after years of chasing a meaningful life that I could not create safety, joy, and purpose through the actions of my mind.

    Subconsciously, I stayed trapped in cycles of pain while trying to resolve my past by hoping the people around me would change. I kept my life small so I could stay in control. I never wanted to be around crowds of people. I never wanted to share and be vulnerable, and I never wanted to let anyone see my feelings. I stayed hidden away behind my mind, where I felt in control and safe.

    But I also felt miserable. Empty and purposeless. For a while, I was suicidal.

    Thankfully, I left those feelings behind years ago, but the emptiness of going through the motions of life without a true connection to what I was doing or why I was here remained, and it was maddening.

    I have found that more people feel this emptiness than anyone would ever think. Many of us keep it hidden in the silence of shame because we desperately want it to be fixed and go away. It’s embarrassing to admit that we feel broken and sad behind all the layers of achievement and pretty social media posts.

    We attempt to fill this emptiness with eating, drinking, scrolling, having sex, shopping, collecting things, and so on. So many of us are terrified at the thought of spending a whole day, much less a whole lifetime, being alone with ourselves. Being with ourselves with no distractions.

    The thoughts in our mind haunt us. We torture ourselves with memories from the past and worries for the future. We torture ourselves with thoughts of how disappointed we are in how our lives have turned out. We recreate pain from the past over and over again by dwelling on the twisted and tormented thoughts in our minds and feel that life is unfair.

    Many people will tell you the answer is praying, reading the bible, going to a therapist, reading self-help books, or doing something with your mind. None of these things are bad in and of themselves, but no amount of staying in your mind will fix or heal the pain of your past that you continue to repeat in the present.

    Unresolved emotions of the past are stored in our bodies, and they’re in the driver’s seat of our lives, causing chaos, disappointment, and frustration everywhere we go.

    I used to think I was really bad at making friends. I usually would wait until someone approached me before striking up a friendship. I isolated a lot because it just felt safer and easier. Over time, I got frustrated because I realized that I kept ending up in these friendships with people who never really saw me.

    My pain and fear of rejection was in the driver’s seat, so I protected myself by keeping the real me hidden away. If I caught anyone’s attention, I would play the role I thought I needed to play to be friends.

    The biggest problem here is that this attracted other people who also played roles instead of being their authentic selves. The role they played was “take care of me,” while I was playing the role of “I’ll take care of you.” This match worked well initially, but always left me in the same broken pattern of not being truly seen. That empty crater in my soul just kept getting bigger and bigger.

    The only way to stop the cycle of pain is to become fully present with yourself here and now. To connect to your body and the spirit within you that is ever present.

    When you drop into your body and feel your emotions, you are then free to just be. So many of us are terrified of the silence of being with ourselves because the pain of the past combined with our present actions to distract ourselves haunt us. The secrets we hold inside are killing us.

    You aren’t a bad person for the things you do to find some form of pain relief. Life isn’t about being a good or bad person. It is about being authentic, real, and connected, or disconnected and fragmented because of the cycles of pain on repeat.

    Are you tired of the constant disappointment? Are you tired of hating yourself and your life? Are you tired of feeling like you are always behind, not quite enough, and devastatingly empty inside? It is so painful, isn’t it? It is so painful to feel the destruction and pain of the disconnection to our true selves. It is painful to face the things we do to distract ourselves from the reality of our emptiness.

    Healing happens in the body. Pain is released from your body. Get out of your mind and into your body and you will be set free. You will experience peace and joy. You will stop the cycles of pain and be at peace with the present moment just as it is. 

    I know it feels impossibly hard. There is so much chaos swirling around in your body that it feels dangerous to actually feel your feelings. A great quote from my mentor, Colin Ross, helped set me free. “Feeling your feelings won’t kill you; it’s your attempt to not feel them that will.”

    It is uncomfortable, it is painful, it can be overwhelming at times, but feeling your feelings will set you free.

    Here is a place to start: Play some music that brings you comfort and close your eyes. Pretend you are getting in a glass elevator in your mind and ride it down into your body. Once the elevator has arrived in your body, identify the emotions you find. Write them down.

    Lower the elevator a little more and see if different emotions are in a different part of your body. Explore your whole body and write down everything you discover.

    For the days to come, spend some time with each of those emotions and ask them what they have to say. Give each emotion a name if it’s easier. Once you feel more comfortable with an emotion, you will feel safer to actually feel it. 

    For example, when I ride my elevator down into my chest, I can see anger. I named my anger Carrie. In my journaling time I ask Carrie, what do you have to say? She tells me all the reasons why she is angry and feels that life is unfair.

    She tells me about my former marriage and how much I was taken advantage of. She reminds me of all the times he silenced me when I tried to share my needs and shamed me when I tried to speak up for myself.

    She tells me about how enraged she feels that I never had a voice growing up. I was sexually abused and emotionally neglected, and if I expressed any emotion other than happiness, I was shamed and rejected by my family and culture. She is so angry for the “good girl” roles I had to play while never really being seen or valued.

    As I get to know her and hear all of these things she has to say, I feel compassion for her and also start to feel anger along with her myself. Each time I connect with her, I validate why she is angry. The intensity of her emotion gets smaller and smaller the more I connect with her and feel her.

    You can do this exercise with all emotions, and it can help you get to know yourself and not be so scared of what is contained inside. 

    When neither your past nor your emotions haunt you, you are free to love your life in the present moment just as it is. Flawed, imperfect, messy, and unpredictable.

    Now that I’m not scared of feeling my emotions, I am at peace. Sometimes I still need to grieve the truth of what has happened to me. I will never be okay with the abuse and neglect I experienced. However, I can feel those emotions when they come up, and they don’t overwhelm me. I feel them for that moment, and then I can move on to enjoy the life I have created now. A life that has people who really see me and care about me in it.

    Perhaps the biggest change for me is that I don’t feel I have to prove my worth to anyone. I am just me, and I feel at peace with that. This shift has allowed me to get out of my head and just be.

    We don’t need to dwell on the past or control how our life looks or what will happen next. We can just be here in the present, full of gratitude, hope, love, joy, and all the messiness from the past lives we have lived.

  • How Restrictive Diets Mess with Our Brains and Lead to Bingeing

    How Restrictive Diets Mess with Our Brains and Lead to Bingeing

    “Your body is precious. It is your vehicle for awakening. Treat it with care.” ~Buddha

    When I went on my first diet in my teens (low-carb, it was back in the Atkins days), I wasn’t even overweight. I weighed less than 120 pounds, but my jeans had started to get a little tight, so I thought I needed to lose five pounds or so. At the time, I didn’t have a bad relationship with food; I just ate like a typical teenager—not the best choices.

    About two hours in, I remember starting to obsess over the things I couldn’t eat and being desperate to be skinny ASAP so I could eat them again.

    By mid day, I “failed.”

    I caved and ate…. *gasp, shock, horror*… carbs.

    And something weird happened. Instantly, I felt like I was bad.

    It’s not just that I thought I had made a bad choice.

    I thought, “You idiot, you can’t do anything right. Look at you, one meal in and you screwed up already. You may as well just eat whatever you want the rest of the day and start again tomorrow.”

    I think I gained about five pounds from that attempt.

    And I continued slowly gaining more and more weight every year after that—and feeling guiltier and guiltier every time I ate something “bad.”

    Atkins low-carb miracle cure had failed me horribly and began a decades-long battle with food and my weight.

    See, it wasn’t that I thought my choice was bad and then I just made a better choice next time; it was that I felt like I, as a person, was bad.

    And what happens when we’re bad?

    We get punished.

    I didn’t realize until many years later, but those degrading thoughts and overeating the rest of the day were, in part, my way of punishing myself for being bad and eating the bad things.

    The harder I tried to control what was going in, the worse it got and the more out of control I felt.

    In my thirties I hit bottom, as they say, as a result of trying to follow a “clean eating meal plan.”

    Four days into my first attempt to “eat clean” and strictly adhere to what someone else told me I should eat, I had my first-ever binge.

    Prior to that, I had some minor food issues. I ate kind of crummy, had slowly been gaining weight, and felt guilty when I ate carbs (thanks, Atkins).

    But a few days into “clean eating,” I was in the middle of a full-blown eating disorder.

    The clean eating miracle craze may have made me look and feel amazing, but emotionally, it failed me horribly and began my years-long battle to recover from bulimia and binge eating.

    But I thought it was just me. I was such a screw up, why couldn’t I just eat like a normal person?

    I saw how much better I looked and felt when I was managing to “be good” and “eat clean,” but within a few days or weeks of “being good,” no matter how great I felt from eating that way, I always caved and ended up bingeing again.

    And every time, I thought it was me. I told myself I was broken and weak and pathetic.

    Even later, when I started training other people, my message was “If it’s not on your plan, it doesn’t go in your mouth” and “You can’t expect to get the body you want by eating the things that gave you the body you have.”

    I wanted clients to feel amazing and get the best results possible, so I gave them what I knew would accomplish those two things.

    But, at the time, I didn’t know that it was actually those messages and rules that had created all my own issues with food, and I most definitely didn’t know they would have that affect on anyone else.

    I thought everyone else was “normal.” I was just broken and weak and stupid—that’s why I struggled so hard to just “be good” and “stop screwing up.”  Normal people would see how much better they felt when they ate that way, and they’d automatically change and live happily ever after.

    Ha. No.

    The more people I trained, the more I became acutely aware that food is the thing most people struggle with the most, and I started recognizing the exact same thoughts and behaviors I’d experienced, in the majority of my clients.

    And almost every single one of them also had a looong history of failed diets.

    Hmmm. Maybe it wasn’t just me.

    Not everyone goes to the extreme of bulimia, but the more I spoke with other people about their struggles with food and shared my own with them, the more I realized how shockingly pervasive disordered eating and eating disorders have become.

    Binge eating is an eating disorder—one that more people struggle with than I ever imagined. Though, most people are horrified to admit it, and many may not even be willing to admit to themselves that they do.

    I get that because it’s associated with lack of self-control and gluttony, and there’s a great deal of shame related to both of those things. But it actually has little to do with either, and you can’t change anything until you admit you’re struggling.

    And disordered eating in general is even more pervasive.

    Feeling guilt after eating is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

    Restricting entire food groups is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

    Severely restricting food in general in not normal. That’s disordered eating.

    Beating yourself up for eating something “bad” is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

    Starting and stopping a new diet every few weeks or months is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

    Diet culture has us so screwed up that we spend most of our lives doing these things without ever realizing they’re not normal. And they’re negatively affecting our whole lives.

    As I was working on my own recovery, I dove into hundreds of hours of research into dieting, habits, motivation, and disordered eating—anything I could get my hands on to help not only myself but my clients better stick to their plans.

    It’s so easy, I used to think; there must be some trick to make us just eat what we’re supposed to eat!

    But I learned the exact opposite.

    I learned that trying to “stick to the plan” was actually the problem.

    The solution wasn’t in finding some magic trick to help people follow their meal plans; the solution lay in not telling people what to eat in the first place.

    There are many reasons behind why we eat what we eat, when we eat, and even the quantities we choose to eat; it just doesn’t work to tell someone to stop everything they know and just eat this much of this at this time of day, because at some later date it’ll make them skinny and happy.

    Our brains don’t work that way.

    Our brains actually work exactly the opposite.

    As soon as we place restrictions on what we’re allowed or not allowed to eat, our brains start creating compulsions and obsessive thoughts that drive us to “cave.”

    Have you ever noticed that as soon as you “can’t” have something, you automatically want it even more?

    That’s a survival instinct that’s literally been hard-wired into our brains since the beginning of time.

    In November 1944, post-WW II, physiologist Ancel Keys, PhD and psychologist Josef Brozek PhD began a nearly yearlong experiment on the psychological and physiological effects of starvation on thirty-six mentally and physically healthy young men.

    The men were expected to lose one-quarter of their body weight. They spent the first three months eating a normal diet of 3,200 calories a day followed by six months of semi-starvation at approximately 1,600 calories a day (though 1,600 calories isn’t even all that low). The semi-starvation period was followed by three months of rehabilitation (2,000-3,200 calories a day) and finally an eight-week period of unrestricted rehabilitation, during which time there was no limitations on caloric intake.

    Researchers closely monitored the physiological and psychological changes brought on by calorie restriction.

    During the most restricted phase the changes were dramatic. Physically, the men became gaunt in appearance, and there were significant decreases in their strength, stamina, body temperature, heart rate, and even sex drive.

    Psychologically, the effects were even more dramatic and mirror those almost anyone with any history of dieting can relate to.

    They became obsessed with food. Any chance they had to get access to more food resulted in the men binge eating thousands of calories in a sitting.

    Before the restriction period, the men were a lively bunch, discussing politics, current events, and more. During the restriction period, this quickly changed. They dreamt, read, fantasized, and talked about food all the time.

    They became withdrawn, irritable, fatigued, and apathic. Depression, anxiety, and obsessive thinking (especially about food) were also observed.

    For some men, the study proved too difficult—they were excluded as a result of breaking the diet or not meeting their weight loss goals.

    We don’t struggle to follow diets and food rules because we lack willpower. It’s literally the way our brains are wired.

    Why? Because from an evolutionary standpoint, we’re not designed to restrict food. Coded into our DNA is the overwhelming urge to survive, so when food (either over-all calories or food groups) is restricted, our brains begin to create urgency, compulsions, and strong desires that force us to fill its needs—and often, even more than its needs (binges).

    We cave because our brains are hardwired to. Then the act of caving actually gets wired into our brains as a habit that we continue to repeat on autopilot every time we restrict food or food groups.

    And it triggers the punish mode that I spoke of earlier, which only compounds the problem and slowly degrades our self-worth.

    So every year millions of people are spending tens of billions of dollars on diets that are making the majority of us heavier, depressed, anxious, food-obsessed binge eaters, and destroying our self-worth.

    Now I know all that sounds pretty bleak, but there is a way out. I know because I’ve found it.

    It sounds like the opposite of what we should do, but it saved my life.

    I gave myself permission to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and stopped trying to restrict. The scarier that sounds, the more you need to do it.

    As soon as nothing is off limits, we can begin to slowly move away from the scarcity mindset and break the habits and obsessions created by dieting.

    When we give ourselves unconditional permission to eat whatever we want, without guilt or judgment, we give ourselves the space to get mindful about our choices.

    We give ourselves the opportunity to explore why we’re making the choices we’re making and the power to freely make different ones because we begin to value ourselves again.

    When we remove the guilt and judgment, start to value ourselves again, and work on being mindful, we can begin to notice how the foods we’re eating make us feel and make choices from a place of love and kindness rather than fear, guilt, and punishment.

    It sounds too simple to work, but it saved my life.

    Rather than telling people what they should and shouldn’t eat, or trying to listen to someone who’s telling us what we should or shouldn’t eat, we have to build a connection with our bodies.

    We have to learn to listen to them, to learn to distinguish the difference between physical hunger and emotional hunger. To stop eating when we’re not physically hungry, and to start feeling emotions instead of feeding them.

    We have to break the habits that drive autopilot eating. We have to be mindful, trust the wisdom of our own bodies, and make choices based on how they make our bodies feel rather than what some diet tells us is the answer to happiness and being skinny.

    UPDATE: Making the choice to not eat meat for ethical reasons and avoiding certain foods for allergy/medical purposes are not the same as restricting food groups for a diet. If you’re happy and feel great with whatever you’re currently doing, carry on! This is meant for people who are struggling with repeated diet attempts and overeating/bingeing, who feel out of control because they can never seem to “stay on track.”

  • How I Got Healthy & Overcame My Food/Body Issues by Ignoring Conventional Advice

    How I Got Healthy & Overcame My Food/Body Issues by Ignoring Conventional Advice

    I was an award-winning personal trainer and nutrition and wellness coach for over eight years.

    I also spent close to three decades struggling with my own weight and food issues—trying to “stick to” diets and/or healthy eating and lifestyle goals. And many years struggling with binge eating, bulimia, and (what I thought at the time was) an uncontrollable sugar addiction.

    During the years I was working in the fitness and nutrition industry, whenever I’d get new clients, I’d find out what their health and fitness goals were, and I’d give them the perfect plan to help them get there.

    And I made sure to remind them, it’s not a diet, it’s a lifestyle.

    I did that because it’s what I learned to do. It’s what everyone does.

    Because that’s what we’re taught—that eating, living, or being healthy requires us to make choices that others have told us are healthy and not do the things they’ve told us are unhealthy.

    You know… the perfect healthy lifestyle that constantly reminds you to:

    • Eat this, not that… or you’ll get sick, disease-ridden, and die early.
    • Weigh this amount and not more…. or you’ll get sick, disease-ridden, and die early.
    • Move this amount each day, in these ways… or you’ll get sick, disease-ridden, and die early.
    • And… you’re not dieting. You’re just eating healthy. You’re creating a healthy lifestyle.

    The perfect healthy eating and living plans constantly remind you that you must always be fighting, resisting, ignoring, and controlling yourself, your body, your hunger, and your cravings.

    And always doing more, working harder, being disciplined, having motivation, building willpower, etc.

    There’s a predictable formula for this supposedly “healthy” eating and living culture.

    The formula insists that we conform to a socially acceptable, mythical, perfect body size and shape.

    The formula treats our health as though it’s a future goal or accomplishment that we can only achieve later if we’re “good” now.

    The formula must be followed with no excuses. When it’s not, the problem is you and your obedience, willpower, discipline, motivation, and commitment.

    The formula is primarily concerned with optics rather than actual health. As long as we portray the “picture of health” and the behaviors we’re engaging in appear healthy, it doesn’t matter if the pressure, fear, and shame created by trying to stick to them are actually destroying us behind the scenes.

    The formula requires us to trust the rules and advice of others over our own bodies.

    It’s a mass-marketed, templated, “easy” model that allows no room for our own inner knowing, logic, self-trust, or personal power.

    It’s easy to sell because it preys on fear and always sounds so shiny and tempting.

    And this is what we’re taught it takes to eat and live healthy lives.

    Multi-billion-dollar-a-year industries have taught us how to “get healthy.”

    “Lose weight, feel great. Gain confidence. Get fit. Be healthy and happy. Live your best life.” But the unspoken truth is that it’s only “…as long as you follow our rules.”

    But you’re not going to be able to stick to this plan, and when you can’t, you’re going to waste your entire life at war with yourself, promising to “get back on track.”

    “On track,” of course, meaning doing all the things they say you’re supposed to.

    It’s a paradigm that promotes constant fear and oppressive attempts to control ourselves and our bodies in order to follow one-size-fits-all, arbitrary prescriptions.

    Nothing proves this more than how we’ve become so completely conned into believing the lie that healthy eating is hard work that requires willpower, discipline, commitment, and constant vigilance.

    That’s horrible and not a healthy way to live at all!

    We’ve been sold this message because it’s highly profitable for us to believe that we cannot trust ourselves and our own bodies and we must rely on others to tell us what to do.

    And we’ve bought it—hook, line, and sinker.

    But it forces us to go through life literally fighting with ourselves and our bodies, trying to follow their rules.

    It forces us to live disembodied, detached, disconnected from, distrusting, and fully ignoring the wisdom of our own bodies and our own inner knowing.

    Living in all that fear, disconnection, and distrust is so harmful.

    For me, it resulted in bulimia, binge eating, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, chronic clinical depression, self-loathing, crippling shame, and what I was fully convinced was a sugar/food addiction so severe that I often went to bed at night afraid I would die in my sleep because I’d eaten so much.

    I lived in a constant state of being completely consumed by not only the number on my scale but also fear and shame every time I “screwed up” and ate something “bad.” For decades of my life.

    Eventually, my mental, emotional, and physical health deteriorated so badly that I recognized my only choice was to learn how to heal because I couldn’t keep living that way—it was killing me.

    I finally recognized that my suffering was in large part the result of everything I was taught to do to maintain this supposedly healthy eating and lifestyle plan.

    And all I really wanted was peace.

    So I turned my back on it all.

    I stopped exercising every day and started a little light, mindful walking and mobility work instead— whatever helped my body heal.

    I released the need for my body to look a certain way or be a certain size and worked on healing my relationship with it instead of fighting to shrink, change, or control it.

    I stopped trying to make myself “eat healthy” and allowed myself to not only eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, but I even allowed myself to binge. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s truly the first step that helped me stop binge eating.

    I shut out every single message I’d ever gotten in my life about what it takes to eat or live “healthy,” and I started reconnecting with myself so I could figure out what actually helped me best support my overall well-being, right now, in this moment.

    I even eventually quit being a trainer and (traditional) nutrition and wellness coach.

    I tuned out everything I knew about what “healthy” eating and living looks like, and instead I turned inward and started connecting with myself. I started getting to know myself, understanding the patterns that were driving all those unhealthy choices in the first place and learning to change those.

    I started asking, how do I feel right now? How do I want to feel? What do I need (mentally, emotionally, or physically) in order to bridge the gap between the two, if there is one?

    It’s changed everything in the most glorious ways.

    I haven’t binged in many years. That’s a pattern that simply no longer exists in me.

    I’m not scared of and don’t feel addicted to or out of control around sugar (or any food) anymore.

    Food no longer controls me… not even sugar.

    I crave things that help me feel my best, including water, which I never used to drink before.

    I treat (and speak to) myself and my body with love and kindness.

    All of the “unhealthy” choices we make, all the unhealthy things we do to ourselves—even binge eating and supposed “sugar addictions”—it’s all merely the result of our conditioning. The stuff going on inside us.

    My external world, my lifestyle, my unhealthy choices, they were all symptoms of what was going on inside me—all the self-abuse I heaped on myself, ironically, because I couldn’t “stick to” a healthy living plan.

    When I changed that, when I stopped focusing on what I was doing and started changing my inner world, who I was being, my outer world (and the choices I was making for myself and my body) naturally changed.

    Healthy eating and living should never be the goal; they’re the result of how we’re being.

    Because here’s the thing: your body doesn’t care about the “health” goals you hope to meet in the future.

    It only knows what it needs right now, in this moment, and whether you’re making choices that help support that or not.

    If you’re trying to make yourself be consistent with some plan that’s supposed to help you reach some goal at a later date, you are, by definition, disconnected from your body and what it’s trying to tell you it actually needs right now.

    That’s a recipe for not making healthy choices and ignoring your body’s cues and messages.

    Supporting our health requires supporting our overall well-being, and we can only do that when we’re deeply connected to ourselves through what I call wholehearted being: being present, connected, curious, and intentional about our unique moment-to-moment needs and loving ourselves and our bodies enough to want to honor them.

    When you do that, making choices that best support yourself and your body right now becomes the natural result.

    Not some arbitrary goal that you can’t ever stay consistent enough to reach.

    If you’re reading this and can relate to any parts of my struggles with weight, overeating, binge eating, and sugar addiction, I want you to know that you, at your core, instinctively know what you and your body need to feel and live your best.

    You’ve just been conditioned out of that inner knowing after a lifetime of learning from everyone else that the only way to be healthy is to control yourself and your body and follow their advice instead of trusting your own inner knowing.

    With wholehearted being, I’ve gone from binge eating, bulimia, obsessive and compulsive thoughts and patterns around food and exercise, self and body hate and distrust…

    …to kindness, compassion, self and body love and trust, and learning to genuinely want to eat in ways that best support and nurture me.

    A New Path to Healthy Eating and Living

    Healthy eating and living through wholehearted being helps you build a foundation rooted firmly in your own self-love, trust, and worthiness because how we feel about ourselves impacts every aspect of our lives, including how we treat ourselves and our bodies.

    From there, you learn to make choices for yourself and your body through four main pillars of being:

    Present in this moment and in your body so you can break the conditioning that drives unhealthy behaviors

    Connected to your inner world—your thoughts, feelings, and communication from your body about what you need

    Curious about your inner experiences in this moment, with gentle awareness, self-compassion, and non-judgment

    Intentional with your thoughts, behaviors, and responses—intentionally choosing from kindness, gratitude, and love

    This process is incredibly powerful because it does two things that are required for lasting change:

    1.It helps you learn to love, trust, and value yourself enough to care how you treat your body.

    2. It allows you to put space between your triggers and the conditioned, autopilot behaviors that drive unhealthy choices in the first place. This allows you to get to know yourself, your patterns, and your needs and learn new tools and practices that better support your overall well-being. Tools and practices that also help you learn to better understand and nurture, not only your physical needs, but your mental and emotional needs as well. And that’s vital because our thoughts and emotions are major components of our overall well-being. They drive the choices we make.

    It’s a powerful and simple process but not an easy one. It takes courage to relearn to trust yourself with food, to learn new ways of being, and it takes a lot of practice, repetition, and support, but it’s so very worth it.

    After eight years in the fitness, nutrition, and wellness industry (and almost thirty years of dieting), I finally got healthy and broke my sugar addiction by choosing to start focusing on my life instead of my weight or food choices.

    By learning to tune out the external messages trying to tell me what I “should” eat or do and turn inward to start making choices for myself that best nurture my whole being, moment to moment—choices that are grounded in love, self and body trust, connection, and kindness.

    And it’s changed everything.

  • How I Learned to Love My Body Instead of Hating Her

    How I Learned to Love My Body Instead of Hating Her

    “Your body does not need to be fixed, because your body is not a problem. Your body is a person.” ~Jamie Lee Finch

    I was thirty years old when I realized that I was completely dissociated from my body.

    I grew up in the height of the purity culture movement in American Evangelicalism. Purity culture was based on one primary concept: abstain from sex until marriage. But the messaging went further than this.

    I sat next to my peers in youth group while the male pastor stood on stage and told us young women to always cover our bodies. For example, two-piece bathing suits were completely out of the question for summer activities. Why?

    Our female bodies cause the young men to “stumble” and have impure thoughts. So out of love for the young men in our group, we must cover up and never do anything “suggestive.”

    The message was clear: My body caused others to sin. My body is bad.

    It would be impossible for me to accurately detail how many times and in how many different ways I received this message growing up.

    I didn’t know it was happening, but over time, I learned to dissociate from my body. My body was bad, and I was trying to be good, so I must distance myself from her.

    Thankfully, I listened to my body when she told me to leave this religious group and find my own way in the world. Yes, my body talks to me. More on that later.

    Recently, society has seen more acceptance of bodies. We see variety in body shapes represented in the media. While that’s a great sign that we are moving in a new direction, simply saying that we love our bodies isn’t enough.

    That feeling of positivity toward our body when we say that is momentary. We must take consistent action in order to make meaningful and lasting change.

    Here are the ways I was able to radically change my relationship with my body and learned to see her as my greatest ally and most prized possession.

    See Your Body as a Person

    A concept introduced to me by Jamie Lee Finch, seeing my body as a person changed everything.

    It allowed me to do one key thing: cultivate a relationship.

    Once I started referring to my body as “her,” I understood how far from her I really was. I didn’t know my own intuitive “yes” and “no.” I didn’t know what I really wanted in life.

    When was I safe? When was I in danger? These are questions that our bodies are designed to answer.

    So I learned to listen to her. And I talked back.

    A number of years ago, I noticed that I was constantly pushing people away. I really beat myself up about this, seeing myself as a cold, unloving person.

    Eventually I realized that this behavior started after a traumatic body violation that I had experienced. I understood that my body was resisting vulnerability and closeness in relationships as a way to protect me from further harm.

    I could see that my body had not been working against me, but for me. And I had the opportunity to say to her, “Thank you so much for trying to keep me safe, but I’m going to start trusting people again. I have learned from the experience and will trust my gut to alert me to danger.”

    I realized that things I thought of as “wrong with me” were in fact genius protective and defense mechanisms that my body wisely developed in order to keep me safe in my environment.

    I started talking lovingly to her, full of gratitude for all the ways she worked to keep me safe over the years. I started seeing past experiences through a different lens.

    About ten years ago, I was in a relationship with a man who wanted to marry me. I was in constant turmoil inside about the relationship, plagued with doubt and uncertainty, unsure if I should stay or go.

    I was so mad at myself for not having a clear “yes” or “no” about the situation. I didn’t realize this at the time, but I can see so clearly now that the anxious feeling in my gut was my body trying to tell me that this man was not my person.

    In truth, my body was always working for my best interests. No one looks out for me the way my body does. She has always been my most fierce protector.

    So I talk to my body and she talks to me. It’s the most important relationship I have.

    Write a Thank You Letter to Your Body

    There is a reason that gratitude practices have become so popular: they work.

    One I started to understand just how hard my body had been working to protect me, I wanted to show my gratitude.

    Writing a thank you letter can be the catalyst for a powerful mindset shift. It’s so easy to see all the things we hate about ourselves and our bodies.

    Write a letter to your body. Think about all the millions of ways your body has worked to keep you safe.

    How your body has alerted you when there’s danger, enabled you to speak truth by giving you gut feelings, and allowed you to experience the greatest pleasure.

    We can never know all the ways that our bodies tirelessly work for us. Gratitude allowed me to further cultivate a positive relationship with my body and work in partnership with her instead of against her.

    Gaze into Your Own Eyes

    If you’ve done eye gazing with another person, you know how powerful and bonding it can be. This is true when you eye gaze with yourself.

    I practice this by sitting on the floor in front of my closet doors that are large mirrors. I feel my body rooted into the ground before looking deeply into my own eyes.

    As a woman, I often look into my left eye, which is generally considered to be the feminine side. The masculine is the right side.

    This practice can bring intense emotions, so start with only a few minutes. You can grow your practice to twenty minutes or longer should you wish.

    See yourself. Really see. And feel the feelings that arise.

    It’s not uncommon for me to cry during this practice, reflecting on all the ways I’ve spoken negatively about my body and remembering how truly spectacular she is. She is beautiful, wise, and strong.

    Eye gazing will allow you to see and experience these truths. And when you embrace those truths, your relationship to your body will change.

    Try Mirror Work

    Remember when you were younger and a parent told you to say one nice thing about your sibling or friend that you were fighting with? There’s something about acknowledging the good in another person that regulates emotions and stirs positive feelings. The same can be said about your body.

    Mirror work is standing in front of the mirror and pointing out things you love about your body. This can be done clothed or unclothed depending on your comfort level.

    The thing you love can be as small as an eyebrow or as large as your torso. As you start to focus on one thing you love and sit with the positive emotions that arise, you will start to consistently feel more positive about your body.

    You’ll notice things you never saw before. Or see things as beautiful instead of ordinary.

    The sexy curve of your left thigh, the strong shape of your ankles, the color of that freckle on your shoulder. You are uniquely you and that is inherently valuable.

    Mirror work can be a ten-second practice or ten-minute practice. You can focus on the same part of your body every day or something different each time.

    I incorporate mirror work into my morning routine when I’m brushing my teeth. As I brush, I look at myself in the mirror and pick one thing I love about my body that morning. This way, it doesn’t feel like I’ve added another self-help practice, but rather I’m taking advantage of opportunities to multitask.

    When we take the time to see ourselves, what we really like about ourselves, we will learn to love what we see.

    Commit One Loving Action

    Similar to saying something nice about someone, doing a kind and loving action can also foster feelings of fondness and compassion.

    For a week, do one focused, loving action to your body. If you can’t think of anything, ask this question: What’s something I have been wanting to incorporate into my daily self-care or hygiene routine, but haven’t done?

    For me, this was moisturizing my feet. When I first did this practice, I had just moved to a new city with a much drier climate. My feet were so dry, but I wasn’t taking the time to moisturize them.

    So I committed to do this once a day for a week. It wasn’t long before I started seeing my feet in a new way.

    I was intentional when I sat on my bed and did this. I took my time rubbing the lotion in, observing new things about my feet I had never noticed before. Thinking about how hard my feet work and all the places they’ve stepped over my lifetime.

    After doing this for a week or so, moisturizing became a natural part of my daily routine. In fact, I consistently moisturize all of my skin now, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.

    Some extra tender loving care will naturally grow your love for your body and cause you to care for them better.

  • 5 Ways to Use Movement (Not Exercise) to Support Your Mental Health

    5 Ways to Use Movement (Not Exercise) to Support Your Mental Health

    “Nothing is more revealing than movement.” ~Martha Graham

    It seems like only yesterday that I was at home with a newborn, a kindergartener, two dogs, and a husband who, just like me, was working from home, when we were thrown into the unthinkable COVID19 pandemic.

    It didn’t take long for the stress and tension to build in my body. The feeling of instability, uncertainty, and fear, not to mention the post-partum anxiety, took its toll on my body as it became more rigid, bound, immobile, and frozen.

    All the ways I had relied on movement as exercise were taken away, adapted to in-home and Zoom learning, which unfortunately did not work for my schedule or home life. It was the first time in a long time that I was not able to incorporate dance into my week.

    It seemed very hard to expand, stretch, even breathe, and that’s when it hit me. A little voice inside said, “You need to practice what you preach!” I needed to redefine movement and focus it on my mental health; connecting to movement for emotional well-being and not just for physical activity.

    When most of us think of movement we think of exercise. While all exercise is movement, not all movement is exercise.

    There are so many ways our bodies move, even involuntarily, that contribute to not only how we feel but what we think. Science tells us that molecules of emotion exist throughout the body, so wouldn’t it make sense that in order to manage those emotions, we need to tap into all the ways to move the body that houses them?

    First, let’s look at what movement is. Movement is anything that allows the body to change position or relocate. This can be something as grandiose as running a marathon, or a resting heartbeat, blood pumping, even breathing. All of these examples involve parts of the body or the whole body shifting its position.

    So, with this in mind, how are you moving right now? Now ask yourself, how is this movement impacting my mood in this moment? Is it supporting a healthy mindset or perpetuating a habit or behavior that contributes to a negative thought pattern?

    In my case, as mentioned above, my movement was very limited, confined, and rigid. It was often impeded by another person, my newborn, who through no fault of his own needed me for survival. I neglected my own body’s needs and it took a toll on my mental health.

    Changing the way you think or even feel actually comes down to changing how you move. So what can be done? Here are five ways you can use movement to support your mental health.

    1. Focus on your movement right now.

    When we focus on our movement in the present moment, we minimize the anticipation of what’s to come, which is often tied to fear or anxiety. We also mitigate dwelling on the past, which can harbor feelings of guilt and doubt.

    Every movement is an opportunity to be in the moment, because every moment is found in movement.

    Bring to mind one part of your body and simply become aware of its shape, how much space it takes up, if it has any rhythm, or even the lack of movement present. Begin to shift this part of the body in small ways and explore how this part moves.

    I began to recognize that my body was closed and tight. So I intentionally made an effort to check in with my posture, giving myself an opportunity to stretch and expand in my body to counter the negative effects I was experiencing.

    2. Cross the midline of your body.

    When we engage in any cross-lateral movement, like walking, marching, or giving ourselves an embrace, we encourage one hemisphere of the brain to talk with the other. This boosts neural activity across the corpus collosum, which increases neuralplasticity, otherwise known as the brain’s ability to change. This allows new pathways to develop which directly corresponds to our emotional resilience, ability to problem solve, and think critically.

    Begin by giving yourself a big hug or simply touching opposite hand to opposite knee. You could also try exercises or yoga poses that require you to cross your midline, like side bends, windmills, or bicycling while lying on your back.

    3. Move your spine.

    When you engage in movement of your spine, you tap into your self-awareness. This vertical plane of the body houses our core; beliefs, identity, moral compass. Bringing attention to the spine and any way it is able to move gives us the opportunity to become more aware of our inner world, how we feel, and what we need.

    Keep in mind that you do not have to be flexible, but gently explore all the ways you are able to move your spine, rib cage, and even hips.

    I like to start my day from the comfort of my bed, lying on my back, bringing my knees into my chest, and hugging my legs. As I tuck my chin, this allows my spine to curve as I attempt to connect head and tail.

    4. Play with timing and space.

    We move in familiar ways because we like comfort, even it that comes at a price for our mental health.

    Our bodies tend to stick to a certain timing, pace, and even shape as we move through our world. When we change up the timing and shape or the space our bodies take up, we begin to challenge our minds by moving out of our comfort zone. This can be uncomfortable, but done in small bouts and with ease, can increase our window of tolerance or ability to manage stress.

    Notice the natural pace of our movement (walk, gesture, etc.) and try speeding it up and/or slowing it down. Same thing with space, can you take up more space? How does that feel?

    5. Move more, not better!

    Increasing all the movements at our disposal makes us more resilient in our minds. When you only move in so many ways, then you can only think in so many ways.

    When we move our bodies more, in new and unfamiliar ways, building a robust movement vocabulary, we increase our ability to transition through life, manage challenges, or at the very least, begin to connect with ourselves in a different way. This can lead toward more self-compassion and empathy.

    When I began moving more throughout my daily life, I had more compassion for myself and my children, who were also struggling to make sense of the world, just like me. I could model my own need for regulation and safety in my body, and as a family we were better for it.

    Your body, and its movement, is your greatest resource for emotional well-being and mental wellness. It often starts with noticing all the ways your body currently moves and inviting in new ways of moving whenever possible.

    There is no wrong way to do this, as it is an individualized practice designed to harness your own mind-body connection. Furthermore, it’s not the movement alone that matters but the execution as well. Being mindful and intentional as you engage in this practice is vital.

    Integrating the aforementioned tips into your lifestyle is a guaranteed way to A.C.E. your mental health. By becoming more AWARE of our movement, we can CHALLENGE our current behaviors and EXPAND our minds in order to live more emotionally regulated lives.

  • Start Your Day Right with the Magic Morning Mindset

    Start Your Day Right with the Magic Morning Mindset

    “What nine months of attention does for an embryo forty early mornings alone will do for your gradually growing wholeness.” ~Rumi

    We would likely all agree that manicures, baths, and cozy movie nights on the couch all fall under the umbrella of self-care. But I believe that it’s time—actually, beyond time—to go deeper and re-claim what self-care truly means. It’s also time to see self-care as imperative, and to move it from the lonely bottom of our to-do list and plant it firmly at the very top.

    For me, self-care has become my fuel and my fire. When I claim time on my calendar on a regular basis for things like play, sister time, and self-reflection, I stay in connection with myself and the things I actually want to say yes and no to.

    Self-care is about clearing out the cobwebs in my mind with daily journaling and going to the gym. It’s about telling my husband, “I can’t make dinner for us tonight, my love; I need to go and have some time alone and take a bath after a long day.” And doing so without guilt.

    And the miraculous thing is, the more I claim time for myself, the more I overflow with generosity and patience for the people I love most. See how that works? The more I give to myself, the more I can give to others from a place of fullness.

    We would never dream of driving cross-country without stopping for fuel, snacks, and water—or trying to make the drive on an empty tank. Yet we seem to think that we can keep pushing through our own exhaustion without consequences.

    When I look back at my own journey from physically, emotionally, and spiritually falling apart, to reclaiming myself on all levels, I see it all began with a decision to stop caring so much about what others thought, and to make my own wellness, happiness, and voice priorities again.

    I began to notice that when I gave myself permission to speak up for myself in the moment, even as my voice was shaking, I left the conversation with a sense of wholeness, without any lingering emotions that were not honored.

    When I didn’t speak my mind, and held in my opinions and needs, I ended up at Best Buy yelling at the customer service manager because I had so much pent up sadness and anger from stuffing things down and being “nice.”

    The more I was honest with myself about my self-care needs, the more I could be myself with those around me.

    It all started over a decade ago. I had just dropped my son off at pre-school. As I sat in my car in front of the coffee shop where I had intended to work for a few hours, I found myself unable to get out of the car.

    I felt the tears start bubbling up, but they weren’t quite ready to flow yet. After all, I didn’t really have anything to cry about, did I? My son was healthy, my husband loved me, we had a steady income from his job, and I had the freedom to create a business.

    Our home was warm and furnished. We had friends and family to call on. Admittedly, my sister and mother were both thousands of miles away. And my best friends were on opposite coasts. But I’d thankfully found a few new friends to share the early motherhood journey with, and they were truly lifesavers for me. I’m sure I was that for them as well.

    Yet, there I sat in my car, stuck in a fog of confusion, unable to step inside the coffee shop. All I could think was, “Who the hell am I now? Where did the me that I knew so well go? And who the hell am I about to become?”

    That’s when the phone rang. It was my sister (i.e. divine intervention). She asked me how I was, and that’s all I needed to hear. The floodgates broke wide open and the waterfall of tears began.

    “What’s wrong??? Are you okay???” she asked.

    “Yes, no, yes… well, everyone is fine, I’m fine, it’s just…I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling… I’m just… sad.” There was some kind of relief in letting myself cry and saying it out loud. It felt like a valve that had been screwed on too tightly had suddenly been released.

    I realized during our conversation that part of me had been hiding for a while. This was the part of me that had been letting go of who I was little by little. As I became a wife, a mother, a resident of a new state, and a homeowner, the parts of me that were used to more freedom, more expression, and less constraint in speaking my truth, began to emerge. And this part of me was pissed, hurt, sad, and ready to run.

    But I knew that I couldn’t run back to who I was before I got married and became a mama. And I couldn’t run forward either because the ground in front of me had become uncertain; I didn’t know how I was going to step into all of these new roles while still maintaining a sense of myself. All of my attention was now focused on keeping another human alive, and being the wife of this man who was now my only family in this new place.

    Instead of running, I just imploded, but it happened slowly, over time, so that I hadn’t noticed.

    Over the last several years of hustling to build a business, raise a baby, and build a home, my body had taken a backseat to my brain and my to-do list. And now, at this very moment, after years of pain in my belly, and sheer exhaustion, my body was ready to be honored again.

    Back in the car, my sister asked me the one thing that would shift the trajectory of my life: She asked me if I felt like going to a yoga class. She said she remembered a time in our lives when I was shouting my enthusiasm for yoga from the rooftops. And admittedly, it had been years since I stood at the top of my mat and held my hands in front of my heart.

    After I stopped crying, I promised her I would get me to a class.

    The very next morning I was in this gorgeous azure blue and gold studio that would become my anchor over the next two years.

    I cried at some point during almost every yoga class for the next six months. And I slowly began to feel my body arrive in the moment again. I could feel the parts of myself that had been hiding begin to show up and talk to me on that mat. Each pose was slowly coaxing me back to myself, and molding me into the new self that I was becoming.

    About six months into my new yoga habit, Deborah, my powerhouse yoga teacher, offered a six-month yoga teacher training intensive. Even though I had no desire to teach yoga, I felt an instant yes in my heart and body.

    We met every other Saturday and every other Wednesday evening. This was the first time I committed to being away from my son on a regular basis. The guilt I spread on myself was thick, but I knew I had to do this. I knew it would be what I needed so that I could actually be present when I was home and give to my family in the way that they deserved.

    One of the aspects of the yoga teacher training was to commit to doing yoga every day. More specifically, every morning. As the mama of a young kiddo who was still not committing to a regular sleep schedule, my morning sleep time was not something I was willing to give up.

    But I trusted Deborah as my guide and mentor. She had taught me to connect with my body and emotions on a deeper level than I had ever considered before. Through movement, writing, and meditations, she showed me how to recognize my emotional triggers and to release my tension so that I did not hold it in my body for years to come (as I had been doing all of my life). So I begrudgingly decided that I was willing to try this morning yoga thing.

    I thought, “I could give up five minutes of sleep and start there.” And that is exactly how it all started. The magic was born in those first five minutes.

    I noticed something shifting for me during those first few days of my new morning commitment to be someone who wakes up a little earlier to move my body, meditate, and breathe.

    I noticed that my patience level with my son was expanding. I noticed that the things I had normally found frustrating became amusing. I was more peaceful during transitions, and my son began to notice as well. Even at three to four years old, he told me I looked happy. That was all the motivation I needed.

    Next, I committed to ten to fifteen minutes of this morning routine. And on days when my son woke up earlier, I began leaving out a little basket of toys and books that would occupy him while I finished. There were definitely mornings when he just needed me to hold him or cuddle. And that was just fine.

    I realized that this was truly an evolving practice and that he wouldn’t be four years old forever. There was no use in getting rigid about something that was meant to help me find more peace and joy.

    Over the next decade, my morning yoga turned into the Magic Morning Mindset because the more I practiced, the more I found that synchronicity, laughter, abundance, and much more began to arrive with ease and grace.

    I believe this is true for everyone. If you’re looking to take better care of yourself, mind, body, and spirit, the morning is where it starts.

    Whether your morning mindset practice is short or long, includes yoga or dance, includes writing for an hour or for just five minutes, there’s always a benefit beyond the morning hours.

    The way you start your day sets the tone for your day. Starting with the Magic Morning Mindset prepares you to be calmer, more joyful, more connected to yourself, and better able to voice your needs. By prioritizing self-care and putting it at the top of your to-do list, you’re telling yourself that your needs matter.

    What is My MAGIC Morning Mindset?

    M – Movement
    A – Alignment
    G – Gratitude
    I – Intuition (or Intention)
    C – Connection

    How Can You Start?

    1. First, set the intention that you want to create a three-step Magic Morning Mindset.

    2. If you have a hard time waking up, commit to going to bed a bit earlier (even fifteen to twenty minutes will make a difference)

    3. Decide what you want to do for your mind, body, and soul (you can find some ideas below).

    4. Set yourself up for success—lay out a yoga mat the night before, or have your journal and a few pens ready. (I can’t tell you how many pens I’ve gone through over the years.)

    5. Stay gentle by starting with five minutes.

    6. Notice how you feel throughout the day after doing the Magic Morning Mindset practice.

    Some Ideas To Get You Started

    Mind

    • Write down your dreams.
    • Just write without editing, even if it feels really weird and you’re writing nonsensical words. Just write.
    • Write ten to fifteen I AM statements: ex: I am committed, I am loved, I am happy, I am light.
    • Write any thoughts or ideas floating around in your mind until you feel lighter.
    • Journal about anything that comes up while doing these practices so that you can reflect on your journey as you go.

    Body

    • Put on your favorite song and dance.
    • Do three to five yoga sun salutations.
    • Stretch and move any way that feels good in your body.
    • Do some push-ups and jumping jacks until you feel warm in your body.
    • Journal about anything that comes up while doing these practices so that you can reflect on your journey as you go.

    Spirit

    • Sit quietly for three to five minutes just noticing your breath.
    • Choose a guided meditation.
    • Meditate any way that feels good to you (there are countless resources).
    • Start with even one minute of stillness and see how it feels.
    • Journal about anything that comes up while doing these practices so that you can reflect on your journey as you go.

    —

    As with all new things in life, you may feel excited about starting your morning with some magic at first, but then find you have less time on some days than others. Over the last decade of practicing this Magic Morning Mindset, I’ve had long stretches where I’ve felt fired up and have woken up early enough to enjoy a luxurious sixty to ninety-minute morning practice. But on some days, I’ve only been able to squeeze in five to ten minutes.

    I can feel the difference in my day when I choose to invest more time in my morning. But I don’t give myself a hard time when it has to be shorter. The secret sauce is to stay open and flexible, and to take it one day at a time.

    As long as you are showing up for yourself in some meaningful way each morning, you are saying yes to your wellness and your joy, and staying connected with yourself.

    Make this practice your own and notice the changes in your day and in your life as you prioritize your own needs and get you back on the top of your to-do list.

  • How I Healed My Body and My Life by Embracing My Sensitivity

    How I Healed My Body and My Life by Embracing My Sensitivity

    “I used to dislike being sensitive. I thought it made me weak. But take away that single trait, and you take away the very essence of who I am.” ~Caitlin Japa

    “You’re making people uncomfortable,” my mother would say. “Stop being so sensitive,” she would then quip.

    I have always been sensitive for as long as I can remember. Now I understand there’s a name for it: highly sensitive person (HSP).

    The scientific term is sensory processing sensitivity (SPS). As it turns out, 15-20% of the population has this trait.

    As a highly sensitive person, my nervous system filters less information. I take in more from my environment.

    It’s theorized this can often be a survival mechanism set up during early developmental years—particularly if the environment the baby is in does not feel safe.

    Often, this can be due to the emotional state of the parents, especially if they exhibit emotional unpredictability or volatility.

    This isn’t always the case, but it’s very common. It was the case for me.

    Babies can’t regulate their own nervous system. They need their caregivers to attune to them in order to regulate. If they don’t get that, their little systems figure out what they can do to adapt. Like develop a high degree of sensitivity so they can pick up on any threat at the earliest possible moment.

    It left me highly emotional. I cried a LOT. And got shamed a lot for it.

    I had a hard time with clothes. Seams and tags left me with painful rashes.

    I struggled with loud sounds. They were just too much for my little ears (and still are!). And any new, unexpected loud sound still startles me to this day.

    I had a hard time with people. Anyone upset affected me deeply, and I didn’t know what to do with all of those big feelings.

    It was overwhelming. And I thought something was wrong with me.

    I carried shame, guilt, and doubt around with me for years.

    I tried to hide myself. Make myself small so no one would notice me. So that I wouldn’t make people feel uncomfortable.

    I tried to be who people expected me to be so that I could feel accepted. Because, as a highly sensitive person growing up, I didn’t exactly fit in with my peers. And it left me feeling deeply ashamed of myself.

    So I had to be what others were so that I could fit in. That’s how it works, right?

    Year after year I did the things that I thought would help me fit in—with my family, friends, and society.

    I stayed quiet and kept my thoughts to myself to detract attention.

    I tried to mimic what others were doing so that I could appear “normal.”

    I prioritized others’ needs before my own, because if I could just make sure others were happy and taken care of, then maybe I would be more likely to be accepted.

    I made life choices based on what others wanted and expected, hoping that would lead me to the mysterious normalcy that society advertised.

    But I wasn’t happy.

    I was overwhelmed, confused, tired, and resentful

    I often felt like I was drowning.

    I started to get sick.

    It started with bone-crushing fatigue. Life felt impossible to get through.

    Then the migraines started. It was so hard to think, let alone function.

    The sinus infections followed suit.

    And then the hives, rashes, and weird swellings that doctors had no idea what to do with.

    All non-stop. And none of which could be rectified with any amount of medication. Doctors told me I’d just have to “live with it.”

    I figured out through my own investigation that by cutting out dairy and gluten, my physical symptoms improved. It opened my eyes to a whole new way of thinking about my body and what I put in it that I had never before considered.

    But the anxiety remained.

    That feeling I was drowning worsened. Even though my body felt better. Not great, but better.

    It took going through a dark night of the soul to realize that the path I was on was not right for me. It was not my own. I was doing what other people wanted me to do.

    And ignoring my own personal truth was destroying me.

    I had to make a change. I didn’t have a choice at this point.

    I had to find my own True North instead of trying to comply with what others wanted, because it was making me sick.

    And what a journey it’s been.

    I learned many things along the way, including the fact that I’m an HSP. And that those with HSP have a higher chance of developing conditions of immune dysfunction, like autoimmunity and endometriosis—both of which I also discovered I have.

    When the nervous system is highly active, as is the case with sensory processing sensitivity, messengers called inflammatory cytokines can be produced, which cross-talk with the immune system, triggering over-activity and increasing chances of conditions like autoimmunity and allergies, and worsening their symptoms or progression.

    What I’ve discovered on this journey is that the best way to help all of it is to understand my nervous system, embrace the sensitivity, and find my own personal True North.

    When I stepped into my own uniqueness rather than shaming or hiding from it, everything changed.

    It was a journey to get here.

    To learn that when others react to me with their judgements and opinions, it’s actually about them. They’re reacting to something about themselves they haven’t yet healed, accepted, or integrated.

    It’s not about me at all. It took a long time to learn that lesson. But when I finally did, it liberated me. To follow my own path, despite what the naysayers say. And to take responsibility for my own life, letting go of the need to soothe or heal others. Even if I could feel their pain. Even if they expressed their discomfort.

    The only way I could truly find my own healing so that I’m not suffering was to heal me first. To find my own way first.

    Focusing on trying to keep others happy and comfortable didn’t work, nor would it ever work.

    I learned through my journey that embracing my sensitivity as a gift—as a superpower—is what healed me.

    Improving my diet and lifestyle choices has helped me physically feel better. But only got me so far. They are important, but not the entire solution.

    What got me the rest of the way was learning to love, accept, and embrace myself for who I truly am, sensitivity and all. Find my own unique path and follow it.

    That’s what holds up the light for other souls to follow suit. That’s what can heal the world.

  • 45 Simple Self-Care Practices for a Healthy Mind, Body, and Soul

    45 Simple Self-Care Practices for a Healthy Mind, Body, and Soul

    “There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling leaves and remember that it is enough to be taken care of by myself.” ~Brian Andreas

    Do you ever forget to take care of yourself?

    I know. You’re busy, and finding the time to take proper care of yourself can be hard. But if you don’t, it won’t be long before you’re battered from exhaustion and operating in a mental fog where it’s hard to care about anything or anyone.

    I should know.

    A few years ago, I had a corporate job in London, working a regular sixty-hour week. I enjoyed working with my clients and colleagues, and I wanted to do well.

    But I had no life.

    I rarely took care of myself, and I was always focused on goals, achievements, and meeting the excessive expectations I had of myself. My high tolerance for discomfort meant I juggled all the balls I had in the air—but at the expense of being a well-rounded human being.

    So I made an unusual choice. I quit my job and moved to Thailand to work in a freelance capacity across many different countries and companies, which enabled me to set my own hours and engagements.

    I began to take care of myself better, scheduling in time alone, for exercise and for fun.

    I got to know myself better and know what I needed—not just to function, but to flourish.

    But guess what?

    At the end of last year, I spent Christmas alone in bed, completely exhausted.

    Why did this happen?

    Well, I had been running my busy website and consulting in seven countries in just two months. I forgot to take care of myself again, and I got a nasty case of strep throat.

    Self-Care Isn’t a One-Time Deal

    The strep throat was a harsh reminder that self-care isn’t something you do once and tick off the list.

    It’s the constant repetition of many tiny habits, which together soothe you and make sure you’re at your optimum—emotionally, physically, and mentally.

    The best way to do this is to implement tiny self-care habits every day. To regularly include in your life a little bit of love and attention for your own body, mind, and soul.

    The following ideas are tiny self-care activities you can fit into a short amount of time, usually with little cost.

    Pick one from each category, and include them in your life this week.

    Tiny Self-Care Ideas for the Mind

    1. Start a compliments file. Document the great things people say about you to read later.

    2. Scratch off a lurker on your to-do list, something that’s been there for ages and you’ll never do.

    3. Change up the way you make decisions. Decide something with your heart if you usually use your head. Or if you tend to go with your heart, decide with your head.

    4. Go cloud-watching. Lie on your back, relax, and watch the sky.

    5. Take another route to work. Mixing up your routine in small ways creates new neural pathways in the brain to keep it healthy.

    6. Pay complete attention to something you usually do on autopilot, perhaps brushing your teeth, driving, eating, or performing your morning routine.

    7. Goof around for a bit. Schedule in five minutes of “play” (non-directed activity) several times throughout your day.

    8. Create a deliberate habit, and routinize something small in your life by doing it in the same way each day—what you wear on Tuesdays, or picking up the dental floss before you brush.

    9. Fix a small annoyance at home that’s been nagging you—a button lost, a drawer that’s stuck, a light bulb that’s gone.

    10. Punctuate your day with a mini-meditation with one minute of awareness of your thoughts, feelings, and sensations; one minute of focused attention on breathing; and one minute of awareness of the body as a whole.

    11. Be selfish. Do one thing today just because it makes you happy.

    12. Do a mini-declutter. Recycle three things from your wardrobe that you don’t love or regularly wear.

    13. Unplug for an hour. Switch everything to airplane mode and free yourself from the constant bings of social media and email.

    14. Get out of your comfort zone, even if it’s just talking to a stranger at the bus stop.

    15. Edit your social media feeds, and take out any negative people. You can just “mute” them; you don’t have to delete them. 

    Tiny Self-Care Ideas for the Body

    1. Give your body ten minutes of mindful attention. Use the body scan technique to check in with each part of your body.

    2. Oxygenate by taking three deep breaths. Breathe into your abdomen, and let the air puff out your stomach and chest.

    3. Get down and boogie. Put on your favorite upbeat record and shake your booty.

    4. Stretch out the kinks. If you’re at work, you can always head to the bathroom to avoid strange looks.

    5. Run (or walk, depending on your current physical health) for a few minutes. Or go up and down the stairs three times.

    6. Narrow your food choices. Pick two healthy breakfasts, lunches, and dinners and rotate for the week.

    7. Activate your self-soothing system. Stroke your own arm, or if that feels too weird, moisturize.

    8. Get to know yourself intimately. Look lovingly and without judgment at yourself naked. (Use a mirror to make sure you get to know all of you!)

    9. Make one small change to your diet for the week. Drink an extra glass of water each day, or have an extra portion of veggies each meal.

    10. Give your body a treat. Pick something from your wardrobe that feels great next to your skin.

    11. Be still. Sit somewhere green, and be quiet for a few minutes.

    12. Get fifteen minutes of sun, especially if you’re in a cold climate. (Use sunscreen if appropriate.)

    13. Inhale an upbeat smell. Try peppermint to suppress food cravings and boost mood and motivation.

    14. Have a good laugh. Read a couple of comic strips that you enjoy. (For inspiration, try Calvin and Hobbes, Dilbert, or xkcd.)

    15. Take a quick nap. Ten to twenty minutes can reduce your sleep debt and leave you ready for action.

    Tiny Self-Care Ideas for the Soul

    1. Imagine you’re your best friend. If you were, what would you tell yourself right now? Look in the mirror and say it.

    2. Use your commute for a “Beauty Scavenger Hunt.” Find five unexpected beautiful things on your way to work.

    3. Help someone. Carry a bag, open a door, or pick up an extra carton of milk for a neighbor.

    4. Check in with your emotions. Sit quietly and just name without judgment what you’re feeling.

    5. Write out your thoughts. Go for fifteen minutes on anything bothering you. Then let it go as you burn or bin the paper.

    6. Choose who you spend your time with today. Hang out with “Radiators” who emit enthusiasm and positivity, and not “Drains” whose pessimism and negativity robs energy.

    7. Stroke a pet. If you don’t have one, go to the park and find one. (Ask first!)

    8. Get positive feedback. Ask three good friends to tell you what they love about you.

    9. Make a small connection. Have a few sentences of conversation with someone in customer service such as a sales assistant or barista.

    10. Splurge a little. Buy a small luxury as a way of valuing yourself.

    11. Have a self-date. Spend an hour alone doing something that nourishes you (reading, your hobby, visiting a museum or gallery, etc.)

    12. Exercise a signature strength. Think about what you’re good at, and find an opportunity for it today.

    13. Take a home spa. Have a long bath or shower, sit around in your bathrobe, and read magazines.

    14. Ask for help—big or small, but reach out.

    15. Plan a two-day holiday for next weekend. Turn off your phone, tell people you’ll be away, and then do something new in your own town.

    Little and Often Wins the Day

    With a little bit of attention to your own self-care, the fog will lift.

    You’ll feel more connected to yourself and the world around you.

    You’ll delight in small pleasures, and nothing will seem quite as difficult as it did before.

    Like that car, you must keep yourself tuned up to make sure that you don’t need a complete overhaul.

    Incorporating a few of these tiny self-care ideas in your day will help keep you in tune.

    Which one will you try first?

  • FREE Online MindBody Therapy Summit for Healing and Well-Being, June 2-6

    FREE Online MindBody Therapy Summit for Healing and Well-Being, June 2-6

    Hi friends! I’m excited to let you know about the MindBody Therapy Summit, a FREE online event, presented by the Embody Lab, that’s coming up next week.

    In this inspiring 5-day summit, running from June 2nd through June 6th, you’ll hear from some of the most impactful healers, teachers, and researchers at the intersection of wellness, spirituality, psychology, embodiment, and somatics.

    What Is MindBody Therapy?

    MindBody therapy helps us understand and shift what gets in the way of being free, happy, and fully alive.

    While traditional therapy focuses on verbal processing and cognitive meaning making, MindBody therapy invites us into the wisdom of our body as the intuitive place of healing and well-being.

    How Can This Event Help You?

    Blending traditional wisdom and embodiment practices with contemporary neuroscience and psychology, MindBody therapy supports healing and transformation while working with every aspect of an individual—psychological, psychical, spiritual, energetic, and social.

    Through methodologies such as Somatic Experiencing®, Hakomi, Body-Mind Centering®, Gestalt, Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, Integral Somatic Psychology, and many other body-oriented approaches to psychology, you’ll gain practical tools to connect with your body and your true self.

    Who Is This Summit For?

    The MindBody Therapy Summit is for you if:

    -You’re seeking knowledge about psychology, somatics, trauma therapy, plant medicine, attachment/intimacy work, internal family systems work, experiential developmental psychology, social/cultural justice and therapy, stress and resilience, and applied poly-vagal theory.

    -You feel like you’ve hit a wall in your talk therapy and you’re looking for a fresh perspective on healing.

    -You’re interested in incorporating somatic methods of healing into your daily practice.

    -You’re ready to fulfill the highest expression of yourself and bring a new dimension of joy into your life.

    -You’re looking to connect with like-minded people engaged in psychology, embodiment practices, and self-inquiry.

    If you’re ready to access a new level of healing and wholeness, click here to register for the MindBody Therapy Summit and get FREE access to all 5 days of inspiring talks. I hope you find them healing and transformative!

  • How I Overcame My Debilitating Gut Issues by Digesting My Emotions

    How I Overcame My Debilitating Gut Issues by Digesting My Emotions

    “I do not fix problems. I fix my thinking. Then problems fix themselves.” ~Louise Hay

    Here’s my secret: In order to fully heal over a decade of debilitating digestive disorders, I had to stop trying to heal. Instead, I had to do nothing. What, do nothing? Yes, that’s exactly right—I had to let go of the search for the perfect cure. Let me explain.

    I developed chronic gut problems at age fourteen—such a precious age! After being dismissed by doctors (“It’s all in your head; it’s a girl problem”), overprescribed antibiotics for years on end, or just given hopelessly ambiguous, catch-all diagnoses like IBS, gastroparesis, candida, h. pylori, and leaky gut (as any sufferer of gut problems can relate to!), I became my own wellness warrior.

    For twelve years, I was on a crusade to find the “right” answer: the right elimination diet, the right supplements, the right doctor, the right healer, the right yoga poses, the right amount of water for my body weight, the right breathing techniques, the right blogger, the right retreat, the right fix that would heal my gut once and for all.

    In truth, I was stuck in a healing loop, and healing became my identity. Sound familiar? I let myself believe that I could never be truly healed, so that I would always be chasing the next popular protocol or promise—paradoxically, it was almost easier that way. “Healing,” which is one of the most profound inner transformations we can undergo, had become a completely disembodied, intellectual exercise.

    I have to be gentle with myself. My quest was not deliberate self-sabotage. You see, I was desperate to get better.

    To not be afraid that any given food, no matter how “healthy,” could set off a land mine of symptoms. To not keep living small so that I could be close to a bathroom and heating pad at a moment’s notice. To stop being defined by my “stomach problems,” and start living fully, or living at all. Until the gut problems led to a cascade of other health problems, and I had to wake up.

    In my healing loop, I was cut off from my inner voice, from my inner guidance, my compass. No wonder I couldn’t get off the loop to a place of true equanimity, balance, and wholeness, in all areas of my life.

    I had no access to my gut intuition.

    Now, I can’t say for sure what came first: suppression of this intuition, which led to gut issues, or the onset of my gut issues themselves, which led to further suppression of my intuition.

    Either way, indigestion, in any form, is literally the inability to let go of the past, of experiences and events that are transient, but that we choose to let define us. Our guts are where our will, personal power, and courage reside. Or, when imbalanced or compromised, our guts are where fear, inaction, and indecision take hold.

    We know this on the same instinctual level that leads us to say, “She’s got guts; trust your gut; I have a bad gut feeling about him; be more gutsy!” But what if we actually listened and trusted our guts? What does that even mean?

    Similarly, we’ve all heard about the mighty microbiome—how we are basically superorganisms composed of trillions of gut bacteria that support everything from immunity to serotonin production. But how does this information translate into the beautiful unification of mind, heart, and belly that leads to quantum healing?

    Sure, we know to take probiotics and eat fermented foods to feed our good gut bugs, but how often do we hear about the metaphysical roots of gut problems—fear, dread, anxiety—and how to weed them out?

    Beginning to Digest My Emotions

    Eventually, when I was twenty-six, I became so depleted from outsourcing my healing powers to “experts,” that the only wounded healer I was left with was myself. Sicker than ever, I realized that no elimination diet would ever work, because there was something else eating away at me.

    What was I not digesting? After twelve years of gut problems, I began to ask myself this question. A wonderful massage therapist told me to start talking to my belly, to ask her what she needed.

    Every day, I lay down with my hands resting on my stomach, and I simply said, “I am willing to feel what is ready to be felt. I am ready to digest my emotions.” That’s all I did. I lay there and waited for my emotions to arise.

    My belly was so tightly contracted, so afraid of herself, that at first, nothing came up at all. I felt completely detached from my entire digestive tract. After all, I’d been beating her up for years, admonishing her for making me sick, feeling completely helpless and victimized in the face of symptoms.

    So I just kept my hands on my belly and trusted. I spoke to her softly. “I am well. What I need to heal is already within. I am willing to feel what is ready to be felt.”

    Little by little, tears came. I imagined the pain was dissolving as black smoke and floating out of my body. Days passed, then weeks. My belly began to give in. I began to digest. And when I did, my whole body shook with the emotion I was most afraid of, fear itself.

    Fear—of failure, of success, of my power, of my weaknesses, of not being enough, of being too much, of the future, of the past, of what was not and what would never be.

    I was holding a lifetime of fear in my stomach, and my stomach was contracting around it, protecting that fear like my life depended on it. My life did depend on it—as a defense mechanism from the vulnerability and open-hearted living that lies beyond fear.

    That fear was slowly depleting me of my life force, of my ability to assimilate anything positive, from nutrients to joy.

    At first, facing a fear so elemental and ingrained can literally seem like dying. And a death of sorts is taking place.

    A deeply somatic, cellular release is underway. All the body needs is support to let the process unfold. S/he needs love, rest, and compassion. S/he needs to know she is safe—and s/he will do the rest.

    It was in that space of not trying to heal, of doing nothing, where healing really began. Because ‘nothing’ is where the little voice of gut intuition can take form. That little voice, what I call the Inner Wise Woman (or Man), can emerge—first quiet, wounded, and confused, and then a little more resilient each day.

    Begin to recognize that voice. Listen to its timbre, its intonations. Learn to trust it. S/he is never wrong. And beyond that voice is where true healing, and true living, begins.

    How to Practice Emotional Digestion

    How do you digest fear? How do you sit with a belly full of fearful thoughts long enough to witness and dissolve them?

    This is the process of emotional digestion that healed my gut after twelve years of incessant pain and discomfort. It is a powerful practice of learning to trust yourself and your intuition, and, if done regularly, will transform much more than just physical pain.

    1. Listen

    Each symptom is a sign, a messenger, of an inner imbalance at play. You have to get quiet enough to listen to the messages.

    Lie on your back in a comfortable position where you can fully relax and release. Place your hands on your belly. Don’t do anything—don’t think about the pain, or what could be causing it, or how to fix it.

    Just breathe and be. Trust that the information you need will surface at the perfect moment, when the body is ready to impart his or her wisdom.

    After you have brought your mind-body into a state of peace and coherence, send your body a signal of safety by repeating an affirmation:

    “I am well. I am whole. I love you and I’m listening.”

    You may lie here for half an hour, or for hours. You may be ready to tune in after a few minutes, or you may need to repeat this practice every day.

    Know that wherever you are is perfect, and everything you need to heal is already within. All you have to do is listen.

    2. Ask

    Once you have become comfortable with the practice of simply listening to your body, you are ready to ask him or her what s/he needs. Tell your belly (or whichever part of your GI tract is in pain), either aloud or in your head:

    I am fully ready and willing to feel what needs to be felt.

    And just see what comes up. Breathe into the answer.

    It may be a resounding voice in your head, or a wellspring of emotion, or a very subtle shift in perception. The more you practice, the more refined your intuition will become. Once feelings have begun to arise, ask your belly:

    What messages are you sending me through these symptoms?

    What feelings can I release from my gut, so I can receive what I need in this moment?

    What information do I need to know to heal?

    Meditate on the answers. Again, depending on the duration of your symptoms, this process may take months or years for answers to fully reveal themselves.

    Don’t worry. Everything is unfolding in perfect time.

    3. Shift

    You have listened to your body’s innate wisdom and asked for answers. Now it is time to shift this knowledge into deep healing. You are literally transmuting the pain so you can make space for more beauty, grace, health, harmony, and peace in your life.

    If you have been storing fear in your belly, call upon courage and belief.

    If you have been storing scarcity mindset and inaction, call upon abundance and willingness.

    If you have been storing low self-worth, call upon gratitude and peace.

    There are many ways to shift a physical manifestation of a metaphysical imbalance—both somatic and emotional. Here are some potent and practical ideas.

    Write through whatever answers arose in your emotional digestion, meditation, and self-inquiry practices. Ask your belly to write what s/he really needs to you/through you. Then, do not judge the words—just let them flow. You may be surprised what comes up.

    Repeat a positive, present-tense statement daily for a month. For indigestion, author and healer Louise Hay suggests the following: “I digest and assimilate all new experiences peacefully and joyously.”

    Move the energy through you. Dancing, shaking, and yoga are among the many powerful ways to literally shift your energy by moving it out of your body, and calling in more refreshing, open, and higher vibrations.

    Try energy healing. Sometimes, the support of an intuitive energy healer, reiki practitioner, or bodyworker is fundamental to releasing stored psychospiritual blockages from the body.

    Once you have listened, asked, and shifted the energy of fear, pain, indecision, lack of will, or whatever arises from your gut, you make space for a radical, new capacity: your intuition. Your inner knowing. Your Inner Wise Woman or Man.

    Next time pain arises, instead of trying to heal, ask your intuition: What does my body need to heal?

    And listen as s/he tells you the perfect medicine for your unique body vessel.

  • Do You Remember When You Didn’t Worry About Your Weight?

    Do You Remember When You Didn’t Worry About Your Weight?

    “We need to start focusing on what matters—on how we feel, and how we feel about ourselves.” ~Michelle Obama

    Do you remember the little girl (or boy) in you? The kid who ran, jumped, danced, laughed anywhere and everywhere they felt like it—before someone told them to shush, that they were too big, too loud, too much.

    The kid who didn’t even know what a scale was before someone told them their size was wrong.

    The kid who just ate—before someone gave them a mile-long list of “bad” foods and made them scared of food and distrusting of themselves.

    After over two decades of fighting with food and my body, I’ve spent the last four years reconnecting with and relearning to trust the little girl in me. And it’s been glorious. The little girl in me, before she was taught to suck in her stomach, lift her boobs, hide her flaws, ignore rumblings of hunger in her belly,  or endure the excruciating pain of the perfect heels because beauty is pain and only skinny matters.

    We were born into bodies that we loved. Bodies that fascinated us. We learned to run, jump, dance, with no thought of how we looked while we were doing it.

    Our relationship with food and our bodies was easy, joyful, and magical.

    We’re born into bodies that know how to eat. They know what they need, when they need it. They know what makes them feel their best and what doesn’t, and they instinctively want to move and feel good.

    They also come with all kinds of built-in functions designed to communicate with us so we hear their signals.

    But slowly, it all changes. We hear people making jokes about weight gain. We hear those around us talking about being fat, needing to lose weight, or otherwise being self-critical. We’re warned against “bad” foods—“Careful, you’ll get fat if you eat that,” as though it’s something we should be afraid of.

    And we’re told we are what we eat, as though we’re good or bad based on what food we choose to consume on any given day.

    We start looking at ourselves and our bodies critically. We start learning that food comforts and we start learning to numb—to ignore the messages we get from our bodies.

    The little kids in us get pushed aside. They get quieter and quieter. We stop trusting them and eventually we forget all about them.

    All of a sudden, the wonder and joy with which we used to look in the mirror is replaced with feelings of disgust, distrust, and shame. We feel frustrated, discouraged, stuck…

    Rather than carrying the joy and wonder for our bodies that we’re born with, we waste decades stuck in the never-ending trance of self- (and body-) criticism, chasing external fixes to make it all go away. 

    Because we’re taught to. The sickest part of all is that it’s usually in the name of “health.”

    Like you, I grew up in a society where I learned that certain ways to look, eat, live, and be are good, and everything else is bad.

    Those messages first became destructive for me in my teens, when I read my first diet book and started my first attempt to lose weight, get fit, and eat healthier.

    I was already fairly small, but every time I looked in the mirror, I saw a reflection I hated because no matter how small I was, I was never small enough.

    There was my life before that awful Atkins book and my life after. Before the book, I just ate.

    After the book, every time I ate my favorite chocolate bar or even just a piece of toast, I felt bad and worried about getting bigger.

    Over time, as I continued to try to “stick to” someone else’s rules about what I should be eating to “be good,” only to keep failing and gaining weight, the guilt turned into shame and judgment every time I ate almost anything.

    My inner world was consumed with one ever present concern: I have to get my act together and get healthy. I have to get this weight under control.

    I’d start and stop a new “weight loss” or “fitness journey” every other month. Vowing that this time would be different because this time, I had the perfect plan, the perfect goals. This time I’d be strict. This time, I’d be good. This time, I was motivated enough to stick with it and I was going to work extra hard.

    It never lasted very long. I’d always “screw up,” lose motivation, “fall off the wagon” only to end up feeling even worse.

    We pray for the day we’ll finally lose weight and all our problems will be over, the day we’ll finally be able to stand in front of the mirror and feel the way we used to feel—before the world told us our bodies were a problem we needed to solve and gave us a thousand different “solutions” that only end up making things worse.

    And we’re taught the solutions to getting there lie in hitting goals. They lie in achievement. They lie in restriction. Deprivation. Suffering. Harder work. More discipline. More motivation.

    If we just hit those weight, food, water, lift, run time/distance, step goals (and stick to them), then we’ll be happy and healthy. Then we’ll be living the “good” lifestyle.

    So we try. Most of us have spent our entire lives trying, failing, and trying again.

    What part of any of that is healthy?

    Exactly none.

    But it’s how our population has been programmed to chase health and happiness. Through this warped need to achieve—to reach goals or see visible progress via the mirror or the scale or whatever.

    But human health and well-being has never been about achievement or goal-setting. It’s not the result of how much you can restrict or deprive yourself, how much you suffer, or how hard you work.

    It’s a moment-to-moment measure of our mental and physical condition, and it’s constantly changing based on a ton of different factors—only some of which have to do with our choices and none of which have anything to do with whether or not we have a thigh gap or what the scale says.

    Yet, those things can make or break our mood, our inner peace, the way we feel about ourselves, and what we think we’re capable of or worth as humans.

    We ride or die based on whether or not external measurements of success make us feel like we’re doing something right.

    Forget about how we feel and what we need—just be good. Be successful. Follow the rules, hit the goals, look good on the outside.

    Less than 5% of people will ever be “successful” at the whole “weight loss/fitness journey” thing, and since I was eventually one of them, I have to ask: How do you define success? We’re “successful” at what cost? 

    Yes, I failed for years, but I was also “successful” for years. I finally had what everyone spends their life chasing through all the diets, lifestyle change, fitness journey attempts, etc.

    Was I happier? A better person? Healthier? No.

    Sure, I looked it. I was celebrated for how amazing I looked, how hard I worked, how inspiring my “discipline” and “self-control” were. My Instagram account was peppered with #fitspo and before and afters. I regularly had comments like #bodygoals and questions from desperate followers asking how they too could achieve the same “success.”

    But in reality? It destroyed me mentally and physically.

    Even after I lost the weight, my life still revolved around the internal war I felt between what I thought I wanted to eat versus what I was “supposed” to eat to “be good” or “make progress” or hell, even just try to maintain the progress I had made. Because by that time, I used food as a coping mechanism for everything. And because reaching goals, forcing “lifestyle changes,” and even weight loss success doesn’t magically solve those kinds of food issues or self-destructive, self-sabotaging behavior patterns.

    I ended up with bulimia and binge eating so severe that many nights I went to bed afraid I may die in my sleep because I’d be so sick from what I’d eaten.

    But at least I was being celebrated every day for my “weight loss success.” At least I looked good. Right?

    It’s all so toxic.

    Because we’ve been taught to demonize certain bodies.

    Because instead of self-trust, kindness, and compassion, we’ve been taught rules and restrictions, hard work, self-control, and “success at any cost,” while ignoring the underlying causes of weight and food struggles.

    Forget about how we feel. Forget about what we need. Forget about the cues we’re getting from our bodies when they’re trying to communicate. Don’t listen to those.

    Just behave and do what everyone else tells us we’re supposed to do.

    We get so caught in this trance of obsessing over it all that we don’t even realize how miserable it’s making us, how much of our life it’s consumed, or how much damage that obsession and all those messages is doing to our health, happiness, and peace of mind.

    We waste decades not only distrusting and disconnected from our bodies, but full on rejecting and fighting them.

    Why? For health? Happiness? To feel good about ourselves? Because it’s just what everyone does so we think it’s what we’re supposed to do?

    We wonder why we struggle so much while being completely disconnected from, and even at war with, not only ourselves but our our bodies.

    No matter what it weighs, your body can and should feel like home. It should feel safe, loving, calm, and centered. But it’s very difficult to ever get there if you’re always fighting with it.

    Taking care of ourselves and our bodies should never have become associated with work, punishment, suffering, or something that required motivation, discipline, or even lifestyle changes.

    What do you suppose determines your lifestyle? Your daily choices.

    And what determines your daily choices? Your programming.

    That is, your thoughts, beliefs, and patterns of behavior. The vast majority of which have developed and been wired into your brain over the course of your life so completely that they run on autopilot.

    That’s why they’re so hard to change and it can feel like we have no control over them—because until we actively work to change those things, we kinda don’t have control over them.

    We just go through life in a trance being driven to repeat the same thoughts and behaviors day after day. If we’re not happy where we are for whatever reason, that’s all that needs to change. Change what’s going on inside and the outside falls into place.

    The greatest tragedy of all is that all the outside noise has made us stop trusting ourselves, our ability to decide what we should eat, and follow through, and often, even our worth as humans. 

    All of which affects our choices because we treat ourselves the way we believe we deserve to be treated.

    Really, all most of us want is to feel better, am I right? We want to feel healthy, happy, good in our skin, comfortable in our clothes, at peace and fulfilled.

    Stop trying to punish and suffer your way there.

    Healthy living shouldn’t make life harder. It should all make life easier, better, and make us feel better about ourselves.

    It’s time to ditch the healthy living goals, the lifestyle change attempts, and hopping on and off the fitness journey wagon every few months. It’s not working.

    Ditch the food rules and restrictions.

    Ditch the plans and goals and to-do lists.

    Ditch deprivation, suffering, and struggle.

    Ditch the fear and distrust.

    Trade them in for love. For self-acceptance. Self-kindness. Self-compassion. Awareness.

    Get to know yourself so you can start understanding what’s going on inside that’s keeping you stuck in patterns that aren’t serving you. That’s where the power is.

    Start finding your way back to that little kid, the one who felt like a superhero before the world taught her (or him) to fear, doubt, and live for achievements and goals.

    Forget all the things you think you “should be” doing and start reconnecting with yourself and your body.

    Pause and notice. Emotionally and physically—what do you feel? Where do you feel it? What is it trying to tell you?

    Try putting your hands over your heart and just breathing.

    Ask yourself, “What do I really want right now? What do I need?”

    Tell yourself and your body, “I love you and I’m listening.”

    Pay close attention to how you feel, physically and mentally, before and after you eat. Before you reach for that thing that you know is going to make you feel terrible ask yourself, “Why do I want it?” Is your body physically hungry, or is it a mindless, learned behavior?

    Ask yourself, “Do I really want to feel the way that’s going to make me feel if I eat it?” If you notice yourself answering, “I don’t care” ask yourself why. Why are you purposely eating something that makes you feel terrible?

    When I started asking myself those questions, I realized I was doing it to myself on purpose because I didn’t believe I deserved to feel good. That was super helpful information because then I could start practicing compassion and figuring out what I was punishing myself for, and ultimately stop.

    We’re born instinctively knowing how to eat, but by the time we reach adulthood, most of the ways we eat and live are learned behaviors.

    The beautiful thing about learned behaviors is that we can learn to change them if they’re not serving us, but it starts with awareness and kindness, not goals and restrictions.

    The more you love and honor yourself and your body, the more at home and connected you’ll feel. The more at home and connected you feel, the more you’ll be able to hear your body when it tells you what it wants and needs. 

    You’ll recognize and trust hunger and fullness cues. You’ll recognize emotions and manage them more easily, without always needing to numb or stuff them. You’ll naturally start feeling compelled to move in ways that make your body feel better because you’ll hear your body when it asks for it.

    The more you live from this place of love, trust, and connection, the more at peace you’ll be, and the better you will naturally start treating your body.

    That’s when health and happiness really have a chance to thrive.

    You don’t need another weight loss or fitness journey; you need a journey back to the place in you that is just love and trust.

    That little kid I spoke of earlier? That kid loves you, trusts you, and knows what you’re worth and capable of.

    That kid is still in you and you need each other.

  • How to Appreciate Your Body (During COVID-19 and Always)

    How to Appreciate Your Body (During COVID-19 and Always)

    EDITOR’S NOTE: You can find a number of helpful coronavirus resources and all related Tiny Buddha articles here.

    “Imagine if we obsessed about the things we loved about ourselves.” ~Unknown

    I used to have a plaque with this quote prominently displayed in my waiting room. Sadly, it’s somehow gotten misplaced over the years.

    What I remember most about the plaque was how it engaged, or disengaged, the people who noticed it. Did they mention the quote when they came into my office? Pointedly ignore it? Let me know that self-love is what they want for themselves? Or express skepticism that they would never get to that point in their relationships with their bodies (if they even had such a relationship)?

    It was the latter group, primarily made up of women in their forties and fifties that I most loved to challenge.

    “What’s your relationship with your body like?” or “When did you stop focusing on what you liked about your body,” I’d ask.

    The answers I heard were often things like “My body changed after my pregnancy,” or “I hate seeing pictures of myself with wrinkles.”

    As a woman who has surpassed the half century mark myself, I completely related—things aren’t quite the same as in my twenties.

    Of course, focusing on the perfect body spans gender. Many men I know joke about or bemoan their “man boobs,” and people who identify as non-binary sometimes hate gendered body parts, like hips or breasts.

    The world I know most intimately is my own, that of a mid-life woman. TV, magazines, and diet talk constantly remind me of the young, smooth, skinny ideal.

    You would think that with a worldwide pandemic happening, these pressures would disappear. Well, they haven’t. Who’s seen the Facebook meme entitled “When You Meet Your Friends After Quarantine,” which shows toddler girls baring their admittedly adorable bellies which they bonk together? My takeaway: bellies may be cute on toddlers, but not on me.

    Or what about the one that shows a much larger Little Debbie of snack cake fame now depicted as Big Deborah? The message: chubby cheeks and extra pounds are not attractive. Watch out. And then there’s talk of the dreaded quarantine fifteen and how to avoid it.

    The message that I should hate my body is alive and well.

    So how do I begin to combat these messages? The quote at the beginning reminds me to shift to my thinking to the positive. I’m working on it. I’ve started to ask myself hard questions. What’s positive about my body? What am I grateful for?

    While I’ve found it helpful to think about these things, a gratitude journaling and practices have spurred the most movement toward the positive. The positive present, that is, rather than the losses of the past (like that flat teenage stomach) or the anxiety of the future “quarantine fifteen.”

    Cultivating A Body Gratitude Practice

    I offer my body gratitude in many ways. Journaling is one. Gratitude journals can be simple, such as a bulleted list of how I am grateful to my body (e.g., for health, mobility, endurance).

    I can also answer questions more overarching questions like “How has my body been a friend through the years?”

    As I ask these questions, I tune in to the sensations in my body. How do I feel in my body when I offer this gratitude? It’s often a lightness in my chest or a fullness in my heart.

    It can be a challenge to keep a body gratitude journal, so I’d like to offer some examples.

    I am grateful to my body for having the endurance to take a walk each day. 

    I am grateful to my body for persevering through a difficult pregnancy. Yes, it’s not the perfect body, but it’s given me the gift of a talented, unique daughter.

    I also love to choose a daily card from Louis Hay’s “Healthy Body Deck.” It’s shifts my perspective when I read these gratitude affirmations and thank parts of my body I never considered.

    For instance, one card says “I love my feet. I walk upon this planet safe and secure, always moving forward toward my good.” I never thought of all the things my feet do for me.

    Some of the cards are funny, such as thanking my spleen for its role, but they help me to connect and laugh.

    I also try to notice opportunities for gratitude throughout my day. During a recent grocery trip I was talking to a cashier, who described her fears about COVID-19. Her teenage son had struggled with some past health issues and she was concerned about him becoming sick. It reminded me to thank my body for having a great immune system that keeps my fear levels low, and it provided the basis for my nightly journal entry.

    Finally, body gratitude practices can involve ritual. This is a work in progress for me, but I offer it to others as an alternative. Love baths? Fill a tub with warm water and bubbles, light some candles, and play some music. Take the time for a soak, letting your body have permission to relax and recharge and thanking yourself for getting through another day of keeping yourself and your family safe.

    You—and your body—are doing a wonderful job getting through this crisis. Appreciating yourself can help you stay healthy and enable you to use this time for growth and self-connection.