un-becoming
TRIGGER WARNING- Please do not read this if you are remotely triggered by anything that has to do with body image, weight, eating disorders, etc. Please!!!
It’s very hard to explain one thing without explaining everything. I definitely didn’t explain everything, but I explained a lot… there was a lot to explain, and a lot that I hid, so this is long. Obviously you don’t have to read this, whoever you are, but if you chose to then here you go… please be kind. <3
** Before I begin, major major shoutout to Dr. Kay Segal… I have absolutely no idea where I’d be without you. Thank you for always demanding more of me, always calling me out on my bullshit, and for always believing in me… even when I didn’t believe in myself. Love you more than I can express. https://www.cdbti.com/meet-the-team **
May 30, 2020
Do you ever get super deep in your thoughts when you’re in the shower? That just happened to me. And I felt compelled to just… share.
This morning I woke up at 4 am- don’t ask me why. I accepted that falling back asleep just wasn’t in the cards for me this morning, so I got up and drove to see the sunrise at Glencoe beach. It was beautiful.
Yesterday, my mom and I did an amazing 15 minute meditation over Zoom led by my favorite meditation teacher, Darrell Jones. During the meditation, Darrell asked us to visualize something we find beautiful- whether it be a cappuccino, a beach, a person or anything in between. I couldn’t help but visualize the present moment… my mom and I were meditating by the pool, 2 of my best friends were sunbathing beside me (socially distant), the sun was warm on my face, and it was a perfect 72 degrees with a breeze. After the visualization was complete, Darrell recited the (debatably cliche) phrase “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”. However, he explained the quote in a different way than we usually interpret it. We often take this to mean that everyone has their own individual tastes and opinions, etc. Darrell explained, however, that it is us- our perspective, our outlook, our spirit, our soul… that makes things beautiful. (I promise he explained it in a much more beautiful, moving and eloquent way, but I’m trying here.)
After the meditation concluded, we opened our eyes and my mom said, “You were my beauty”.
I could tell by the way she looked at me that the last thing she was referring to about me was anything physical.
If you know my mom, or know anything about our relationship, you can imagine how this literally stopped me in my tracks. She’s the absolute best, trust me. But we have a very complicated relationship, she’s tough, and words that sincere and heartfelt aren’t something I hear from her often.
So all day, in the back of my mind, I was thinking about my (for lack of a better word) ‘journey’- who I am today, and who I used to be. I realized that my mom was right. I am beautiful. Although I probably should say “I have always been beautiful”, I did some pretty ugly things to myself… for a very long time. Maybe I have always had a gigantic heart, maybe I have always been a ‘beautiful’ girl, but for a large part of my life I was disconnected, I was in so much pain, and let me tell you… that isn’t a beautiful way to live.
Okay, now going back to this morning. Firstly, getting off of my phone and out of bed at 5 am to create such a special moment for myself is something I’m proud of, so let’s start there. But while I was at the beach, I soaked up the beautiful sunrise for about 15 minutes before noticing beautiful purple flowers in front of me and the sunlight perfectly hitting the trees beside me. It then all clicked- yes, of course; the sun and flowers are undoubtedly beautiful. But it was my desire to get out of bed and appreciate nature’s beauty this morning, that created that beautiful moment, and that beautiful memory, for myself. And it was my open eyes, my ability to finally be in the present moment, and my willingness to experience the world around me that let me appreciate those flowers and the trees too... not just the sunrise.
Does that make sense? I hope so.
Okay, fast forward to the shower. In the shower, I was thinking about all of this. For a while now, I’ve wanted to somehow share my experience. Even last weekend, I was speaking with a friend and told her how much I want to share… how fraudulent it feels to have not said so much… and how I truly believe that by sharing, I might be able to help others. I told her that I have always been waiting until I was “better” to share. She told me the same thing I’ve told myself many times, that I’ll always feel that way, that there’s never a right time, and that we’ll never truly feel completely “better”. Trust me, I had said this to myself many times, so I shrugged it off and told myself what I always do… that I need to wait until I’m at least a little bit better, until I’m out of all of this at least a little bit more.
But all week, little things would happen that made me realize two things: Firstly, I realized how different I am than I ever have been, and for lack of a better word… “better”. And secondly, I realized that she was right. I realized that there will always be a voice of darkness inside of me. For the rest of my life, I will probably have thoughts that pop up in my head now and then that tell me horrible things about myself. And then I saw this quote. “You are not responsible for your first thought. You are responsible for your second thought, and your first action.” And BOOM, it all made sense. Although they are less than ever before, continuing to still have negative thoughts, urges and triggers don’t mean I’m “not better”. Having a bad day doesn’t mean I’m “not better”. Having a negative first thought, and then combatting that with a badass second thought and shooting that shit the fuck down? That means I am BETTER. Having a bad day and being able to wake up the next day, pick myself up and carry on and not revert back to old ways? That means I AM BETTER.
So here we are.
And in truth, I never reallyy planned to do this. I probably don’t know most of you that are reading this. I don’t “owe” any of you anything. Being truthful and transparent with my friends and family… that’s one thing, that’s something I felt completely obligated to do. But I don’t feel obligated to do this. I could continue posting about random shit without saying anything I’m about to say, but I don’t want to, and I’ll tell you why. It’s because I wish that I had had something like this to read a couple of years ago. And if I can help just one person by sharing this, then it’s worth it.
I’m tired of getting messages from girls who tell me that “my life is perfect” and “they’re so jealous”. Well, thank you- I am definitely blessed in a lot of ways. But I can’t continue to contribute to the false image that people create on Instagram that makes other people feel bad about themselves for not having it all, not having it all together, or not having it as easy as some people make it seem. If I did that, I promise… that was never my intention. But sharing this shit is hard! And when you leave the struggles out, all that’s left is the good stuff. I’m not saying that everyone has a dark story, but everyone has a story, and that’s important to remember. Seriously.
Okay here we go. Fuck.
I’ve struggled with anxiety for basically my entire life. I began having panic attacks at age 3 due to things in my family that were completely out of my control… but that’s another story for another time. Regardless, the panic attacks were provoked, there was trauma, and they were not spontaneous. But they happened, and my anxiety began, and I think that’s just something important to note. I struggled with anxiety and depression throughout my childhood and adolescence, and to be honest I don’t think I ever had a healthy relationship with food. Maybe until I was 6, but that’s it.
To cope with grief and family issues, I’d emotionally eat and overeat as a child, and pretty quickly I became a chubby kid. I was constantly made fun of, called names, teased, and I was keenly aware of my weight from age 7-ish on. I remember always wanting to be smaller. When I got diagnosed with Celiac at age 12, the weight melted off. Gluten free food was nottttt a thing back then- it was impossible to get gluten free anything anywhere, so at first the weight loss was unintentional. But pretty quickly, I realized how differently I was treated by adults and kids alike. It isn’t like I was getting deliberately bullied for my weight at that point, but when I began to lose weight, people began to look at me and speak to me differently. The “you look so beautiful” “you look so healthy” “you look so great” comments began rolling in. So quickly, the weight loss became intentional. I remember having to work with a dietitian to navigate Celiac at first, and at a certain point the continued weight loss became concerning for her. She’d come to my house and help me plan gluten free meals (I know this sounds crazy, but no one knew what the fuck gluten even was, and if you asked for something gluten free at a restaurant they’d look at you like you were speaking a foreign language), and she’d weigh me. I vividly remember getting ready to go down to the kitchen to meet with her, and shoving anything heavy I could find into the pockets of my robe so that the scale read higher. I was 11.
I wasn’t concerningly or unhealthy thin, and that’s something I really want to point out. The only time I was ever potentially ‘concerningly thin’ in my life was about a year ago, and although I’ve gained about 15-20 lbs sine then, it doesn’t look thaaat drastic. So many people judge health based on weight, but let me tell you- I’ve been a ‘healthy’ weight for the majority of my life, including during times that I was doing some of the unhealthiest things possible. And people can be fighting other battles that have nothing to do with weight at all! So let’s just throw that notion out the window, okay?!
I’m going to try to keep this as brief as possible here, I don’t think the specifics of behaviors are that important, but if you have any questions feel free to reach out. I’ve clearly been aware of food, weight and body image for a long time. I ‘tried’ to restrict from about the ages of 11-14, although I’d ‘slip up’ now and then and overeat... but nothing too extreme. I remember buying the Tone It Up program when I was 14- I desperately wanted to ‘learn how to be skinny’ and wanted to ‘educate myself on how to be healthy’. I remember always being envious of my naturally thin friends, and being frustrated at how difficult it was for me to have the bodies they did.
After my family experienced yet another loss, depression crept in when I was 15 and the overeating turned into binge eating to numb the pain. I’d eat healthy all day, work out really hard, try to eat ‘super clean’, and would usually wind up eating my face off late at night. It was manageable for a little while, and from the looks of it I was a perfectly slim, healthy girl. I’m going to use numbers because I think it’s important to show how little variation there is throughout all of this. Of course, some people have different stories and their weights have fluctuated like crazy, but I think it’s important to show how sick someone can be, without their weight changing thaat much. Anyways- my freshman year of high school, I was about 120 lbs. Sophomore year I remember taking Vyvanse a couple times for the first time- half to study, half to lose my appetite. That was basically the beginning and the end of it for me with Adderall, it just doesn’t work for me in any capacity- I can’t even focus on it (ironically), I just end up crying and it makes me miserable lol. Thank god, honestly. The summer after my sophomore year of high school, when the binging increased a little, I was about 127 lbs. Junior year, shit hit the fan for a million reasons. I was depressed as fuck, basically refused to go to school, and the binging got out of control. I would stay home from school, smoke sooo much weed, and eat until I fell asleep. (I love weed, don’t get me wrong, but everything about the way I used it then was unhealthy). At my heaviest, I was 137 lbs (I’m 5’ 6.5”), so although i had gained weight, I wasn’t that ‘big’- again, this doesn’t add or take away from my journey, I just really want to reiterate that weight is not always an indicator of health. At the end of the school year, I decided enough was enough and I began seeing a ‘nutritionist’ that one of my friends was seeing at the time. I told her that I just wanted to get back to my normal weight and wanted to stop binging. She put me on an EXTREMELY strict plan, and thinking about it makes me want to cry because I know that all I was looking for was someone to help me repair my relationship with food. All she did was make everything a million times worse. I’m not blaming her, clearly there were underlying issues, but holy fuck. The plan consisted of 6 meals a day- 20g of protein at every meal. Carbs with the first 3, a fat with the second 3. The fifth meal (dinner) was 4 oz of chicken, and an entire bag of steamed broccoli. Plain.
I was living off of egg whites, protein powder, Quest bars and steamed broccoli. I’d try and try to stick to my plan… but most nights I’d fall off at night (obviously?? who could stick to that?!) and binge. I’d wake up, go work out and sweat out the binge, and try to get back on track. It’s truly heartbreaking, because all I was trying to do was become healthier and stop the binging… I was way too close to understand that this was just making it worse. I remember bringing Tupperware with meal prepped food with me when my family and I would leave the house. I’m all for planning ahead and being prepared… but this was something else. Everything I consumed was weighed on a food scale and tracked in My Fitness Pal, as instructed by the ‘nutritionist’. I developed such a strong fear about eating anything I didn’t know the calorie count of, couldn’t track or hadn’t planned for. Yet, most nights I was binging until my stomach hurt. Oh- weight wise, working with her I did get my weight back down to about 125.
As senior year began, I remember feeling anxious and scared about going to college and not having a kitchen to cook my special foods in. If you know me, you know that I love to cook. But this was different- I was cooking food that I didn’t like the taste of, I was cooking to have control, and I feared anything I didn’t cook and couldn’t track in my app… and worst of all, I was doing all of this because I was told to. By an adult! A professional! A mother! And truly, I think she had the best intentions. In theory, I guess her plan was fine. I’m sure she had no idea how damaging it could be to teach such rigidity to a 16/17 year old girl, and I don’t blame her. But I do think it’s important to share how damaging it was.
The first time I purged was at my little brother’s birthday party we had at my house. I was 17, so he was turning 10. I ate more pizza than I had wanted to- well, let’s be real, I hadn’t wanted to eat any pizza at all. It was the middle of the day, and I went upstairs and stuck my fingers down my throat. That was September of 2014.
The next 5 years were a blur. I never went away to inpatient treatment, but I went to outpatient treatment, a CBT group, CBT therapy and more. I threw up almost every single day, multiple times a day, for nearly 5 years. There are so many details and crazy stories that I could share, but I don’t think any of that really matters here. It was as bad as it could’ve been, that’s all. It was reallyyy really bad. Sometimes I wanted to get better, sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I did and didn’t at the same time.
It began strictly about food and weight. Really, it did. But over time it became much more than that. More than anything, a habit. Having an eating disorder rewires your brain. It fucks with your reward pathways and it truly is an addiction. I don’t know how to explain… but the urges I had to binge and purge were as strong as the urges I had to drink water when I was thirsty. I couldn’t shake them, and they felt so real. They were so real.
It also became about control. Both in terms of my body, and my life in general. Felt out of control in my life? Binge and purge. Felt lonely during college? Binge and purge. Felt nervous? Felt excited? Felt hungry? Felt tired? Felt anything? Pretty soon it didn’t matter what I felt. Sometimes triggers were emotional, sometimes they were physical, sometimes they were habitual… and ultimately I was binging and purging almost every day, all day. And although I was thin, I wasn’t scarily thin. Bulimia is often hard to see because you can’t always ‘see it’ because so many things are a factor.
I was hiding it from everyone. Seriously, EVERYONE. For a long time I hid the severity of my eating disorder from my therapist, because I wanted her to be able to tell my mom I was doing great.. I didn’t want her to worry, and I also didn’t want to have to stop. I hid it from my friends, my boyfriend, even my roommates. So much of my life was spent hiding. being secretive. being sick. I don’t know how I didn’t die. Seriously. I ended up in the hospital a good amount of times, with dangerously low levels of potassium. The kind of levels that put you at severe risk for a heart attack. One time while getting admitted to the ER, I had a mini-stroke in the waiting room. I thought I was dying.
And I can confidently sit here and say that, with the help of some very special people, I saved my own damn life.
Most of my college years are a blur, and in truth there’s a lot of it that I don’t remember. I would shake all the time. Physically shake. Not be able to think straight, feel like I was going to faint. And I just couldn’t stop. When I’d wind up in the hospital I’d promise myself I’d get better, but then the next day I’d be back doing the same old shit. It didn’t matter where I went. Family trips, vacations, college, out with friends, home, internships, it didn’t matter. I’d find a way. And most days I’d wake up and try to get through the day without binging and purging, but usually I’d fail. And when I’d go out, even if I just had a shot or 2 I’d black out and be hungover for 24 hrs because there was literally nothing in my body. Not fun !!! For the majority of college, I weighed 112-114. At my lowest, I was 109. At my heaviest, I was 117.
Things were a bit better my junior and senior year of college, but not great. My boyfriend at the time was incredibly loving and supportive, and for the first time in my life I saw myself as truly beautiful. I was no longer scared of gaining 10 lbs and having people treat me differently… but I still found myself attached to my eating disorder behaviors, and even though I knew I wouldn’t be treated differently, I still didn’t want to gain weight. Things were relatively a little better, but nottt great.
I finished college a semester early in December of 2018 (took 2 online classes spring semester), and I committed to getting fully better. I had always imagined myself somehow getting better before I finished college. But I looked around and realized that I wasn’t better. AT ALL. I was actually worse, and I was an adult now… working, in the real world. I realized that I wasn’t just going to ‘get better’ without trying. I realized that it was going to be a lot of work. And then I realized that it was probably going to be the hardest thing I had ever had to do. But for the first time in my life, I wanted to get better.
Throughout the past 16 months, and more specifically the past year, I’ve been forced to confront anxiety and depression in excruciatingly painful ways, because for so long I used my eating disorder to numb the pain. I got used to not having to ‘deal’ with my emotions, so throughout this past year I’ve had to re-learn how to handle them- sadness, heartache, anxiety, discomfort, etc. There was one horrible night during recovery this winter where I was feeling so insanely low- I was under tremendous pressure in business, my family was going through a lot, I was mentally struggling with my weight gain, and I had been bottling everything up for far too long. I just… cracked. I reverted back to eating disordered behaviors (purging), but my body wasn’t ‘used to’ it anymore, and I got incredibly sick- I fainted, couldn’t think straight, and was depressed beyond belief. That was the scariest, darkest night of my entire life. I hit rock bottom. I felt hopeless. I felt like a failure. I felt like I’d never really get better for good. I felt like I’d never really be happy. And I didn’t want to be alive anymore.
Yes, I relapsed. But what I did the next morning is the reason why I am where I am today: I took a good look in the mirror and asked myself if I wanted that night to be the night that undid all my progress and sent me right back to my old ways, or if I wanted that night to be the very last night I let my eating disorder win. Hint: I chose the latter.
Recovery wasn’t a straight line, it was gradual and slow and full of setbacks, but I wanted it so badly and wouldn’t let anything stop me. The past 16 months haven’t been easy, but they’ve been amazing, because holy fuck were they worth it.
Over the past 16 months, I’ve gained about 15 lbs, and I love every single damn one of them. Why? Because if this is what my body looks like when I’m fueling it with nutritious food, indulging when I want to and moving a way that feels good, then so fucking be it- then this is EXACTLY what I want to weigh. And If I lose or gain 5 lbs while still continuing to do that, then so be that too !!! Wherever my body wants to be when I am treating it kindly and being healthy, then that’s what it will be and I do not want to weigh ANY. LESS. My jeans may be tighter.… but my butt’s also bigger, my hair’s fuller and longer, I can think (finally) straight and I don’t shake all day so, ya- I’ll take it !!
And oh yeah- by the way; no one will treat you any differently lose 10 lbs. You won’t be any happier. Your life won’t change. You might need to buy new jeans, that’s literally all. “Those extra 5-10 pounds, that place where your body naturally wants to be- that’s your life. That’s your late night pizza with your friends, that Sunday morning bottomless brunch, your favorite cupcake in the whole entire world because you wanted to treat yourself. Those 5-10 pounds are your favorite memories, your unforgettable trips, your celebrations of life. Those extra 5-10 pounds are your spontaneity, your freedom, your love.”
I was nervous to come home for quarantine. It was one thing to be ‘better’ while living alone in my apartment- a place where I could control everything. A place where I was alone. But coming back to live with my mom and my brother during a global pandemic, in the house that I had been so sick in, was a wholeee different ballgame. To my surprise, the past 3 months here have been amazing. And I am so fucking proud of myself- (And by the way- up until recently, I don’t think I would’ve even been able to formulate the sentence “I am so fucking proud of myself”.) I truly believe that it’s telling of my growth, and who I have become. Actually, not who I have become, but who I have always been. I saw this quote recently- “Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming. It’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you.” And that’s exactly it- for so long I felt like I wasn’t me. I was living in such dissonance. I was doing things that were in complete conflict with my values, who I am at my core and who I wanted to be. It was the worst feeling.
I was so disconnected. And I also want to give a shoutout to Jacq Gould. I wish I found her years ago, when I was really in the thick of it, but everything happens for a reason and having her guidance and group program to lean on during the past few months of quarantine has been amazing during this brand new chapter of my life. I finally feel that now, I have won this battle and destroyed this disgusting, awful monster, and that I can truly begin to work on me, because I feel like me for the first time in a very long time… Maybe ever.
For so many years, I was simply surviving… and barely, at that. I felt like a prisoner. I felt trapped. I was doing things I didn’t want to do, I was destroying myself day after day, and ultimately I was showing myself pure hate. Pure disrespect. Pure abuse. But none of it felt like my own actions… there’s truly no better way to describe it than I felt like a prisoner. I felt completely controlled by something outside of my body- except it wasn’t outside of my body, was so deep in my own head that I couldn’t even fucking think straight. I felt like a robot. A carrier for this awful monster.
I finally feel like I have un-become that eating disorder monster. That sad girl who did so many horrible things to herself. Who was in so much pain. And who kept causing herself so much pain.
But I’ll tell you why I was so apprehensive to share this- because I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy about snapping my fingers and losing 5 or 10 lbs. And that’s just the truth. I’d be lying if I said that I don’t have triggering thoughts or strong urges sometimes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have bad, dark days because I’m learning to live without this crutch. I’d be lying if I said that the thought of certain situations doesn’t scare me. And I wanted to wait to share my story until all of those thoughts went away. But until this week, I realized that 1) I can FINALLY confidently say that I AM RECOVERED, and 2) I don’t want to wait any longer in case someone could benefit from reading my story and 3) although ed thoughts will continue to get smaller and smaller with time and continued hard work, they may never completely go away- and that’s okay. Because weight, food and body image isn’t black or white. The older I get, the more I realize that most people have a complicated relationship with food. Even for those who had a perfectly healthy relationship with food while growing up, it just gets complicated when we get older! The world is stressful, and social media makes it even more complicated as fuck- between Instagram models, Instagram nutritionists, health coaches, diet trends and everything in between.. It’s overwhelming and hard to navigate. So I’ve realized tha having those thoughts now and then is probably something I’m just going to have to deal with, the same way that recovering alcoholics have to make an active choice every day to stay sober. But I’ve also realized that it isn’t that black and white because unlike an addict whose sobriety is mostly defined by completely abstaining from a substance… I can’t just ‘stay away’ from food. I’m not comparing battles or saying one is easier or harder at all, I’m simply saying that in this specific aspect of recovery that I’m speaking about, eating disorders are very complicated because I have to consume the very thing I was addicted to, in order to survive. So for both that reason, plus just the fact that I’m a 22 year old girl living in 2020 America, I’ve accepted that those thoughts are going to come! But like I said, “You are not responsible for your first thought. You are responsible for your second thought, and your first action.”.
I essentially took quarantine as a rehab of sorts, to truly finalize my recovery and kick my ed, anxiety and depression to the curb for good. I basically didn’t leave my house, spent most of my time in therapy, journaling, meditating, on a walk or doing yoga. I ultimately disconnected from social media too, to cap off my recovery and find out if I could truly be happy, healthy and content without any external validation or distractions… and guess what? I was perfectly healthy, perfectly happy, perfectly balanced, felt the most grounded I have ever felt… all by myself. And I didn’t miss social media for a second. So- I don’t want to wait until I’m any better to share my story. I finally feel better enough to share. And I want to share, because not all pain looks the same. You can follow someone on Instagram or even be someone’s fucking roommate, and not have a clue what they’re dealing with behind closed doors. You can think they’re perfectly fine! With that said, hiding pain and hiding struggles does not make you any stronger, weaker, better or worse. Everyone’s battles are different. And yours are valid and real, even if they don’t look like mine.
SO- with that said. Let me bring you up to speed. Before quarantine, I would make myself a big batch of healthy, yummy food about twice a week. I’d measure it out, and there were still some lingering beliefs about what I felt like was an ‘appropriate’ amount etc. So I would have these pre planned meals both physically in the fridge, and also in my head, and I’d eat them mindlessly. If I wasn’t hungry, I’d eat anyways even if I was a little too full at the end. If I was hungry, even when I was done, then I’d just be hungry. I was eating mindlessly, but I didn’t know it. I think many people at that way. I never really thought about what the phrase “listen to your body” meant, until I started doing it.
During quarantine, I have made dinner for my family almost every night. I LOOOVEE to cook. I find it creative, meditative and therapeutic. Cooking for people I love is one of my absolute favorite things to do. Unlike me, my family was not too thrilled at the prospect of eating the same thing every day, though. So I had to get creative. And we were eating family style, which was different from I had been used to at my apartment- I was used to making a pound of chicken, splitting it into 4 4 oz portions and having 1 a night. Eating family style forced me to really tune in to my hunger cues. Was I hungry? Was I full? Did I want more? Did I not want to finish everything on my plate? It may sound so simple, but I can’t remember ever asking myself those questions.
From there, I got even more tuned in. What did my body want that day? What actually sounded good? How did I feel after I eat certain foods? What were the common denominators that made me feel bloated?
I had always chosen foods to eat based on my knowledge of nutrition, with wanting to be thin in mind. But this was the first time in my life that I just wanted to feel good. I wanted to feel energized but not bloated, full but not stuffed, and simply nourished. And of course, I wanted to enjoy the taste of my food! Duh.
For the first time, I realized that dairy, cauliflower and beans bloat me. And I realized that I feel much better when I eat mostly plant based. With that being said, one of my best friends absolutely loves beans, but fruit bothers her. I love fruit and it makes me feel great! My point is, everybody is different. And there is so much great information out there.. I think that it’s important to expose your body and taste buds to a variety of healthy foods, and to have a good solid understanding of nutrition… but fuck! Our bodies are SMART. And by listening for the first time, I quickly began feeling the best that I have EVER felt. I was the least bloated I have ever been. I had the most energy I have ever had. And debatably best of all, I was thinking about food the least that I had ever thought about it.
The phrase ‘listen to your body’ always sounded a little woo-y to me, but now I know that really all it means is paying attention. Being present enough to just pay attention to how you feel. If you let yourself be present in your body and in the moment, your body and mind will begin to make the connection… between food, mood, physical feeling, emotion and everything in between. Trust me.
All I know is that for the for the first time in my life, I truly feel like myself. balanced. connected. grounded. in control. content. healthy. complete. and happy.
So what’s next for me, here? Well- I want to share my tips, tricks and recipes that make me feel happy, healthy, balanced and empowered. I believe that cooking is powerful, I believe that it’s self care, I believe that self care is healing, and I hope that I can share that with you.
I don’t know exactly what my mom had in mind yesterday when she thought of my beauty, but for so long I have been disconnected from myself in basically every single way possible. And there’s a lot more to unpack there, maybe that’s another post for another day, but reconnecting to my body… or maybe even connecting for the first time… and un-becoming everything that wasn’t really me… has been nothing short of beautiful.
Thank you for reading.
Love,
Hannah