Changing Direction

I have done a great deal of soul searching over the past few weeks. I have been exploring my relationship with food and my body in a way I never have before. I have been reading more about intuitive eating, weight bias, health and wellness. I have been getting very honest with myself about my thoughts, beliefs, feelings, ambitions and needs. This process has led me to make some significant changes; some private and some you’ll see reflected here in my blog.

It began around the time of my last blog post. I had started considering embracing intuitive eating. The prospect was daunting as I had a lot of fear regarding losing all the “progress” I’d made in weight loss. As my readers know, I began an endlessly cyclical weight loss journey more than 10 years ago. Within the first year of that journey, I had lost more than 100 pounds. I spent the subsequent years yo-yoing, regaining and losing anywhere between 10-40 pounds over and over and over again, never sustaining weight loss for long and never reaching my “goal weight”. The thought of regaining any of that lost weight was paralyzing until recently, when I began to realize that fear was driven by the anti-fat biases I held and directed at myself. 

I had always known I had been a victim of weight stigma; it was difficult to recognize and admit that I am perpetrator of it. I believed I saw the world through a lens of compassion and body positivity or neutrality, but I didn’t. How could I look at anyone without judgement when I couldn’t look at myself without judgement? My first memory of weight bias and diet culture occurred when parents began dieting, eating their little frozen diet entrées while the rest of the family ate a normal dinner. The first time I felt targeted by weight bias was in middle school when I began to be teased for having a soft chin, and when I had to be publicly weighed in my P.E. class, discovering I was the only girl in the (dreaded) triple digits. I was now indoctrinated into diet culture, drinking my first Slim Fast shake at 13 and buying my first box of Dexatrim diet pills at 16. Young, impressionable, plagued by the insecurities of puberty, living with past and experiencing present trauma, I was diet culture’s perfect victim. Over time, I developed a sort of Stockholm Syndrome regarding diet culture – being both victimized by it while also buying, lock stock and barrel, into the culture and becoming a propagator if anti-fat beliefs. 

My past of jumping on every diet trend to come my way is well-documented. I believed I had solved the diet riddle in 2010 when I learned to count calories and macros and started working out five times per week. I believed what I was doing was healthy. I believed my “discipline” was something to be admired. However embarrassing or painful it is now to acknowledge and take responsibility for my thoughts, I believed my ability to restrict my food intake to that degree and with that level of consistency actually made me better than other people. I thought my willingness to choke down an unappetizing cinnamon roll-flavored protein bar (because it fit my macros) instead of the actual cinnamon roll I was craving made me better. I believed my willingness to sit with hunger, to go to bed hungry, made me better. I believed my dedication to going to the gym and suffering through tedious hours of walking in place on a treadmill, watching the estimated calories burned display tick up and up and up, made me better. I believed working out with injuries rather than resting made me better. In reality, all those things robbed my life of joy day after day. All of those things robbed my body of vital nutrients. All of those things were damaging to the psyches of others, pushing the exact same diet culture bullshit that had been pushed on me, onto vulnerable people and, perhaps, persuading them to embark on the same joyless path I had beaten down. 

I find myself, today, at a new place. I don’t feel the need to atone for having pushed diet culture as long as I did and that is because I was a victim of it myself. I do; however, feel a responsibility moving forward to take ownership of my past and to share openly, willingly and unabashedly that I am realizing now I was wrong. Furthermore, I feel a desire in my excitement for the future to continue to share my experiences, my progress and my changing beliefs and desires. In the past week, I have cancelled my premium membership to MyFitnessPal. I have deactivated my weight loss-specific Instagram account. I have stopped tracking workouts and walks with my Apple Watch. I have changed the description of this blog to reflect this new journey towards food freedom, joyful movement and true wellness. In coming months, as embrace more and more of the principles of intuitive eating, I will begin to make changes to this site’s content to reflect this new journey. Let’s see where this new road takes me. 

Intuitive Eating

So much has happened in my life over the past month; I have been experiencing so much chaos, confusion, frustration, and anxiety. In the moments of calm; however, I have not wasted the opportunities to reflect. As we have dealt with the rapidly failing health of a loved one, those reflections have often pertained to health and wellness, especially long-term health. In a roundabout way, that has led me to the concept of intuitive eating. 

Intuitive eating isn’t a new concept to me. Being a perpetual dieter and spending a lot of time online and offline in this space, I have some understanding of it. I have a half-finished book, “The Emotional Eaters Repair Manual” by Julie M. Simon on my nightstand that talks in great length about it. That book is unfinished largely because, while exhilarating, my knee-jerk emotional response to the concept is fear and mistrust of my own intuition.

I have endured an ever-evolving eating disorder for the past 30 years. I have sought and received professional treatment for bulimia and binge eating disorder. I find myself now questioning whether the past 10 years of dieting is nothing more than a restrictive, control-based counterpart of disordered behavior surrounding food. When I am counting calories, when I am pre-planning and preparing my weekly meals and weighing out portions on my little kitchen scale, I feel like I am being “good,” like I am being disciplined and healthy. But maybe this isn’t self-care – maybe this is just another extreme. I believe I fall short of orthorexia, but I also believe that the emotions I feel when I think about having this relationship with food for the rest of my life tells me this isn’t right, it isn’t sustainable, it isn’t what I want for myself. At the same time, giving that up feels like risking the weight loss and improved overall health I have achieved thus far.

It’s scary to imagine giving up control. It’s scary to imagine learning to trust my intuition. It’s scary to think I may not be able to tell the difference between my intuitive voice and the voice of my trauma. Yet, it is equally scary to imagine being 60 years old, my mobility limited by nearly a lifetime of being overweight, tugging my little food scale out of the cabinet to weigh out one ounce of chickpeas. 

When I think about a successful transition to intuitive eating, I feel this potential for liberation. What would that feel like? What if there are no more “good foods” and “bad foods?” What if there were no more counting calories, no more weighing foods, no more refrigerator full of little snack-sized zip top plastic bags of portioned grapes or carrot sticks? What if I never looked at others again with envy at their “normal” relationships with food, if I didn’t feel like there is something wrong with me?

I have been driven by my goals to where I am now – the incessant calorie-counter, the persistent dieter, constant “pinner” of online fitspo. My weight loss journey has been driven by the pursuit of a physical ideal I have imagined for myself, sculpting the body I see in my mind’s eye. I have paid some lip service to the idea of overall mind, body and spirit wellness but, honestly, those were superficial thoughts I invented to justify my quest for a certain type of body I saw as worthy of love and respect (something I have never felt I’ve had in my life). I find myself, today, in a head- and heart-space, of wanting something different from what I have wanted before: wanting true and lasting overall health and wellness. I find myself, today, wondering if adopting a practice of intuitive eating along with a more natural, intuitive and holistic approach to fitness, emotional health and mental wellbeing might be the path for me. It’s scary. It’s exciting. It’s enticing. I wonder…

Cruise Control in a Demolition Derby

I was feeling great. My path felt clear, unobstructed. I was feeling liberated from my destructive behaviors. I was finding it easy and rewarding to follow my meal plan, I was enjoying my daily walks. I had shifted into cruise control.

I have only been back on this path since the start of the new year. This isn’t shifting into cruise control on an open highway – it’s cruise control in a demolition derby. 

A demolition derby isn’t a comfortable, safe, modern vehicle gliding across a freshly paved multi-lane interstate. It’s a junker with a punctured radiator plucked from a wrecking yard, grinding on three flat tires through mud, pounded on all sides from by junkers and flying debris. Just surviving it requires unwavering focus and determination. 

Over the weekend, I took a few hits to the core trauma. Rather than keeping my eye on the situation, rather than acknowledge I was on a dubious foundation and on a course full of potential hazards, I checked out by switching to auto pilot. I didn’t deal with my emotions or the behaviors resulting from them. I disregarded them, dismissed them as “water under the bridge.” Then I shifted, spending (wasting) my clarity walks on sort of irrelevant but feel-good topics. Unaddressed, the painful feelings arising from my negative core beliefs stewed beneath it all. That culminated in a nearly two-pound weight gain this week. 

Sometimes I think that eating is the only unproductive, unhealthy coping mechanism in which I engage but it isn’t. Distraction is definitely one of my coping mechanisms. By immersing myself in distracting thoughts and activities, I can conveniently ignore – and cease working on – my problems. Working on my issues is painful and my distractions, whether that be outfitting my bike with artistic decorations for the Spring or driving across the greater South Bay searching for Cotton Candy Manic Panic to dye my hair, feels like it gets me out of feeling that pain. That is an illusion, though. The pain is still very much there, still very much impacting my emotional, physical and mental health. 

It may sound strange, but I am grateful for my weight gain this week. It has jarred me awake, gotten me back in the present – back in the derby, my hands on the wheel, my eyes peeled for the hits that could be coming my way. 

Next Level Me

Don’t you just love a New Year? A fresh start, a new beginning, a time when it feels like the future is ripe with possibility and we have the opportunity to leave everything we don’t want behind. Intellectually, we all know that every waking minute of every day offers this – there is no reason to wait for a New Year or a birthday or a Monday or whatever arbitrary starting line we designate. But I love the magic and promise of a New Year and this year is no different. 

In mid-December I discovered a new-to-me podcast: Bad Bitches Losing Weight with Melissa Ronda. I began binge-listening, furiously taking notes, and thinking, “damn, this woman totally gets me.” I’m sure the podcast will feature in future entries, but I wanted to talk about one episode in particular today. “WWNLMD?!?” The title is a play on the WWJD? (What Would Jesus Do?) bumper sticker phenomenon and the acronym stands for “What Would Next Level Me Do?!” The episode talks about getting a clear picture of what the evolved version of yourself looks like, how she thinks and acts, how she shows up, what she will and won’t tolerate and then checking in with yourself when the need arises, asking yourself what would next level me do in this situation? For instance, maybe you want to eat something counterproductive to your goals, you ask “would next level me eat this?” 

Over the next few weeks, I did a lot of contemplation and journaling defining the next level version of myself. I was all-in. I could see her in my mind’s eye: I knew what she looked like, how she did hair, what she wore, what she listened to, how she would act in situations. I got a crystal-fucking-clear picture of wo I wanted to be. As a New Year’s Resolution, I created a list of 13 defining qualities of next level me (fully anticipating this list will grow and evolve over time). On January 1, I hung my nifty, designy “Next Level Me” sheet on the refrigerator and, at first, I was on it. Bam-bam-bam, check-check-check, checking off these qualities and focusing on being this version of myself. Of course, over the following weeks I started slowly taking my foot off the gas and emotionally detaching from wanting the things on the list. This is kind of crazy, right? Why would I not want this? These are really awesome qualities on this list. Why grow complacent about those desires? Why would they stop feeling less important than having king cake and chocolate parfaits? At first, I didn’t really realize how much I had detached from the wants on this list and when I did finally realize I had detached, I didn’t really ask myself why.

I think, intuitively, my focus had shifted. Instead of spending my afternoon “clarity walks” (I’ll touch base on what a clarity walk is another post) having these detailed conversations with myself about “next level me”, I had started deep-diving into my emotional issues. The conversations with myself were really difficult but liberating ones about core trauma and core beliefs, about my relationship with food and how it was defined by those traumas and beliefs. As I was having these conversations, the desires to partake in behaviors that didn’t serve me subsided – I stopped being tempted by things in the house like cookies or cupcakes. It wasn’t about strengthening resolve or will-power, I simply stopped needing to eat to soothe emotions. This feels like a very clear, very strong indicator that I was right to trust my intuition on shifting focus, that this work is healing my heart. As I work through all this, I think – and I am theorizing here – this is going to allow me to circle back to the “Next Level Me” list in a more sustainable way. It is as if something in me knew I wasn’t fully ready for that list until I cleared some clutter, some stumbling blocks out of the way. 

As I tackle these emotional issues, I think the best route forward is to look at the list more deeply. When I first discovered I had strayed from the list, my solution was, “well, maybe I should journal about each item on the list and define it more clearly.” I don’t think that’s what I need to do – I think I know the definition of each item on the list, I had a very clear picture of it when I put it on the list. The best path forward is to journal on why I put each item on the list. There has to be a reason, a damned good reason. I don’t have to define “clean eating” for myself, it’s not a new or confusing concept. But why is “clean eating” so important to the vision I have of the best version of my future self… so important that it’s the first item on the list? Why is leaving my comfort zone and handling my shit so important? This is something worth some seriously peeling back of the onion. That next level version of myself is not at the bottom of a list, she’s at the end of a long, arduous road of introspection, understanding, accountability and work.

Exploring My Relationship With Food

Why do I eat things that are bad for me, things that don’t support my efforts? Why do I eat so much? So often? What triggers me to switch to a sort of auto-pilot state of frenzied consumption, in which my conscious self truly doesn’t wish to participate?

I think everyone can agree that eating can be a corporeally pleasurable experience. A bite of something that tastes good is physically gratifying. Even anticipating that bite can cause physical reactions of salivation and tummy grumbling. That is universal. It’s a given. What happens when you live a predominantly unpleasurable existence, when you live with depression and anxiety? 

Depression has been a near-constant for most of my life. I had my first thoughts of self-harm and suicide at age 12. I have experienced depression in levels varying from disinterest and disengagement to debilitating apathy and suicidal fantasies. At some point (a very early point, I imagine), I subconsciously learned that the pleasurable sensation of eating something gave me a few moments of alleviation from the constant sadness or nothingness. Sure, the enjoyment only lasted as long as the food lasted but it was relief, a brief time of feeling pleasure; a brief time of not feeling pain. 

In writing this, I caught myself wanting to label the feeling “happiness” or “comfort” but happiness and comfort are soul-deep emotions. Food doesn’t and can’t provide those. It can only provide the pleasurable sensation we are physiologically hardwired to experience when eating calorie-dense foods. It is easy to mistake that sensation for happiness or comfort when you don’t know or remember what those things actually feel like. I truly believe that’s what happened with me, that I began to associate those experiences of something tasty on my tongue with happiness, emotional satisfaction, and comfort. My life had little actual happiness in it for many years – party due to my external circumstances and the trauma I was experiencing/had experienced and partly due to my as-yet-undiagnosed and untreated bipolar depression.

I began to associate those experiences of something tasty on my tongue with happiness, emotional satisfaction, and comfort.

I liken it to taking pain medicine for an injury. Pain medicine doesn’t mend the injury, it only provides temporary relief from the pain of that injury. The injury is still there. The injury could even be exacerbated by the use of pain medicine if the injury is compounded by further activity during the alleviation of pain. Food doesn’t cure depression, it only engages the mind elsewhere for brief respites. The effects of eating, particularly overeating or eating unhealthy foods, can actually compound the depression by adding excess weight to the body, in my case leading to morbid obesity.

When I had my success in 2010 I had two things working in my favor.

1.     My healthy diet and consistent moderate-to-vigorous exercise regimen altered my brain chemistry, releasing endorphins and dopamine, physically relieving my depression symptoms.

2.     The process of losing weight was a pleasurable experience. It made me actually happy to have support, to weigh-in and see progress, to shop for new clothes and see my body transformed in an exciting and gratifying way.

The urge to relieve sadness with food was gone during this time, making it easy to adhere to healthy meal plans and remain motivated to exercise. Then my world got turned upside down. My weight loss stalled when I reached the limits of what my current efforts could achieve. I lost my job and I lost my support system, leaving me feeling alone and insecure about my future. Depression and anxiety returned and, because I never addressed the emotional or psychological issues behind my previous behavior, I had no healthy coping mechanisms and I resumed using food to provide momentary relief from my mental health disorder. 

I feel like there are now two important tasks for me to begin work on. The first is to begin to identify pleasurable activities I can use to interrupt bouts of depression and disinterest. So far, I have considered jigsaw puzzles, online games, adult coloring books, physical activity, playing piano, window shopping, spa baths and mani-pedis.  The second task is to continue to explore the evolution of my relationship with food because there is more much still to be unpacked. For instance, the subconscious process of briefly alleviating depression by eating eventually became habit, a ritualized compulsion regardless of the level of depression or anxiety I was experiencing and that is something to explore and understand. Nevertheless, I feel like this was a significant realization today. It makes sense, it rings true, and that gives me hope of overcoming it. 

A Return to Blogging

From the beginning of my journey, I have been focused on my weight. I talked a good game about self-care, about fitness, about motivation, about all sorts of things but every ounce of my drive was measured in pounds on a bathroom scale. Turns out, this may not be the best way to go about this. 

I took time off from blogging – about 19 months – and I made the decision to do that for a number of reasons. The first reason was that I felt obligated to generate content on a regular basis, which put me in a position of trying to write when I had nothing meaningful to say. I read some of those posts now and have to refrain from rolling my eyes as a few range from pretentious to banal. The second reason I stepped away was a nagging case of imposter syndrome. Who am I to dole out weight loss advice when I have never actually reached my weight loss goals, when I struggle as much as I do? I felt like a fraud, like I was all self-righteous talk without the results to back that up. The third reason I stopped blogging was that this blog really doesn’t have a large readership and it often felt like I was screaming into the void. Seriously, my own family didn’t even read this. 

Why on earth would I come back now? Most simply put, things have changed. 

I have started, for the first time in my journey, to really start digging deep into my emotional issues. I recognize that this is not a weight loss journey but a transformative journey of body and soul. I recognize that, until they are addressed, the issues driving my behavior will continue to reemerge and hinder my progress. It isn’t enough to want to lose weight. My weight was never my problem, it was a symptom of my problems. I wear my trauma on my body, like an anchor tethering me to my past. 

I have been doing a lot of thinking, a lot of talking to myself aloud, a lot of journaling trying to learn about the roots of my behaviors. I have been examining my core traumas, looking back in time to identify when coping mechanisms were adopted and patterns emerged. Looking inward doesn’t feel like enough. I feel the need to engage in the cathartic practice of writing my discoveries down. This is the deep dive. The peeling of the onion. The unpacking of baggage. I am the cartographer of the roadmap of my life. I write when I have something to say. I write with brutal, painful, potentially embarrassing candor without any hope or expectation of inspiring anyone. Finally, I write for an audience of one: myself. 

New Year’s Resolution

Where to begin…

I have about a hundred thoughts swirling in my head regarding what I wanted to write about today. Do I talk about my holiday self-sabotage? Do I talk about my New Year’s resolution and my current mindset? I guess I want to talk about it all as it is all related. I guess I don’t really want to talk about any of it – I just want to get to work and DO IT.

I gave myself permission to indulge over the holidays – hopefully with moderation. Given that I regained 13.6 pounds between November 27 and yesterday, it’s safe to say moderation went the wayside. Initially, I was still meal planning and prepping and keeping within my nutritional goals during the week, indulging on the weekends. I skipped the gym for the last two weeks of November, went back for the first week of December then didn’t go again until New Year’s Eve. Eventually, I started hitting the Christmas cookies hard in the evenings and didn’t bother planning, prepping or logging anything. I knew I had regained weight but I wasn’t expecting to have gained quite so much. Given my behavior, I should have expected it. That said, I was surprisingly un-upset by it. I see it simply just a starting point, the beginning of the next part of my weight loss story (I hope).

You see, I made an official New Year’s Resolution to reach my goal weight in 2019. If you follow my Instagram account, you would know that I have been building up a head of steam for weeks, preparing to tackle this resolution on January 1. I treated myself to a new meal-prep perfect lunchbox, new gym clothes and shoes, and a fancy new pair of earbuds. I worked with my friend Karol to come up with SMART (Specific-Measurable-Ambitious-Realistic-Time Bound) Goal Worksheets for setting up all the short-term goals that will get me to my end goal.  I have been furiously pinning great fitspo images on my Pinterest board and compiling a new Spotify workout playlist. I set up the camera tripod in the kitchen, marking the kitchen floor with blue masking tape, so that I can take my progress photos and, hopefully one day, create a time-lapse video of my transformation.


So here I am. January 1, 2019 and I weigh 211.1 pounds. My first SMART Goal of the year is to lose 11.3 pounds by Saturday, February 9 (get back to Onderland in just over five weeks). I have 56.2 total pounds to lose in order to reach my ultimate goal and I would love to do it by August 1. I plan to stay accountable, stay honest and make my health and weight loss a priority. I plan to keep the lessons learned over the holidays (all that junk food really, ultimately, wasn’t worth it) at the forefront of my mind and make healthier, more productive decisions. I plan to eat healthy, clean, unprocessed and nutritious foods as much as possible. I plan to give 100% of my effort, energy and dedication to my workouts. No more excuses, no more backslides, no more pity parties… that’s how I’ll reach my goal. Time to lace up those Nikes, tighten up my ponytail and take ownership of 2019. This will be my year.

Gearing Up for Success

While I am enjoying the holidays (and enjoying the holiday treats a little too much), my mind has already jumped ahead to the New Year. I have big plans for next year. I have made lots of resolutions to lose weight in the past, but they’ve all been vague, ill-equipped and unsuccessful.  This year, all of that changes as 2019 will be the year I reach my goals. As January nears, I have been preparing to tackle my goals.

Mentally, I have been scouring the internet for meal planning recipe ideas and fitness inspiration, I have been building a new and ever-evolving workout playlist on Spotify, and I have been talking to my friend about setting up a goal sheet and vision boards to both chart my plan for success and motivate me. Today, I asked myself if there are any physical items I need to literally gear up for success. These would be the items that help me in the kitchen and in the gym, that help to minimize or alleviate the excuses I make for not sticking to my plans or inspire me to work harder and stay more dedicated.

I grapple quite a bit with buying gear. Sometimes I feel like I don’t want to “reward” myself before reaching goals. Sometimes I feel like I don’t really deserve it. Mostly; however, I feel like gear is superfluous – that I can make-do with things I already have, however imperfect they may be. After all, I lost over 100 pounds wearing hand-me-down gym pants and using a beat-up old iPod. Maybe some things are redundant, but I also have to acknowledge the shot-to-the-arm that new gear and a financial investment in my success can provide. I have to make my health a priority, I have to view my quest to reach my goals a worthy and important venture. I have decided that, with the help of my $250 Visa Gift Card Thanksgiving bonus (I was sitting on this bonus with the hopes of finding the perfect way to spend it) I am excited to stock up on the tools that will inspire me and make my life easier.


From meal prep containers and a new insulated lunchbox to new wireless headphones, a progress journal, workout wear and possibly some new gym shoes, I am researching items that will make this journey easier and more streamlined while refreshing my attitude and giving me a sense of the importance and value of my success. I am so excited for this new year, so excited to put in the work, track my progress and make 2019 MY year to reach my goals. Stocking up on some great gear is going to be a fun and rewarding step in the process.

Green-Eyed Monster

I am jealous person and a terrible frenemy. I am not proud of myself. It has always been important to me to lift up other people, to support them in their efforts and encourage them. A friend of mine has been on an extremely successful weight loss journey this year and, as I have watched her progress and applauded her success, deep down I have been troubled. I am feeling envious and thinking spiteful thoughts. This negativity is not only uncharacteristic of me, it is shameful. Wanting to understand the root of my jealousy – I know it lies 100% within me and has absolutely nothing to do with my friend – I have been doing a good deal of soul searching. Over the last few months I have been paying attention to my thoughts and emotions, making mental notes of the things which trigger my strongest negative reactions, and believe I am understanding my own feelings of jealousy better.


Most of the people currently in my life – my boyfriend, my coworkers, all the people I see on a regular basis – never knew me at 290 pounds. The people who did know me at that size have all adjusted to the way I look now, having not seen me at my largest in many years. I still have quite a bit of weight to lose but that change won’t be as dramatic as the changes my friend is seeing. It won’t be as dramatic as when I dropped from 290 to 180 pounds in 2010. The days of people being truly astonished by my progress are mostly over. People may still occasionally comment on my weight loss but I’m no longer going from morbidly obese to healthy. Furthermore, my nearly constant ups and downs over and my struggle to reach my goal has left me with the feeling that nobody (least of all myself) has much confidence in my ability to truly succeed. As a result, I feel like my weight loss journey is yesterday’s news.

In the early days of my weight loss, it was such a thrill to hear people comment on my transformation. My metamorphosis was remarkable, garnering a lot of positive attention. I didn’t want or want to need accolades or validation from other people but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to fantasizing about it long before I actually started losing weight. I imagine that’s common – envisioning people’s ecstatic and awestruck reactions, being showered with praise and adulation. When it happens, it feels amazing. It is almost addictive and, while I didn’t realize it until now, I grew to need it. Watching my friend get all of that positive (and well-deserved) attention, reading the comments on her social media posts expressing awe at the change and congratulations on her success, I am seething with jealousy.

I will never have that again and I have realized, through my friend’s success, just how much I will miss it. It is painful, hurting my heart in a way I never could have anticipated. In so many ways, my weight loss journey has defined me for the past eight years – it was the single greatest personal accomplishment of my life. Now it feels like no big deal. Watching my friend experience all those amazing firsts, earn the supportive praise, I have realized just how important those things were to my positive attitude and determination to keep going.

I have had my heyday. I have had my attention, my accolades, my awe and congratulations. That part of my journey is behind me. I have to make peace with that and I can not allow it to bring out the worst in me, to make me someone I never wanted to be – a bitter, envious and catty person. I have to find my positive attitude and my determination elsewhere. Deep down, I want my friend to experience the happiness she is no doubt feeling now. I know what that happiness feels like and I would want that for anyone who has had to be made to feel subhuman because they wore their pain and trauma on the outside, in the form of fat, for all the world to judge and criticize. I would be ashamed of my jealousy if I didn’t take the time to understand it. Having insight into its source; however, I realize I need to be gentle with myself and understanding. As much as I wish I didn’t feel this way, I have to own these feelings, see them for what they are and be accountable. I also realize the need to encourage myself, to recognize the changes I am making and celebrate them even if I am celebrating alone. This is another phase of my journey, possibly a quieter and more personal one, and that’s ok.

My Own Inner-Demon

Everything was going great. I’d been able to get consistent and dedicated with my diet and exercise routine. I have lost nearly 30 pounds. I am back in Onderland. People have been noticing. Coworkers have commented on my progress, friends and family have congratulated me on my success. I have had to buy smaller clothes and even I, my own worst critic, have noticed the physical changes in my body as I sat on the couch marveling aloud and my “skinny calves.” It has been exciting, rewarding and encouraging. It has made me feel strong, healthy and proud. So why in the hell have I started to sabotage myself?


This isn’t new a new phenomenon. I have squared up against this enemy twice and twice been defeated by it – once in 2010 and again in 2013. Each time I came within 30 pounds of my goal weight then, without any seeming provocation or reason, I started sabotaging my success by gradually neglecting meal planning and workouts and falling back into binge eating behavior. Both times I would regain more than 40 pounds.

Over the past month I have been facing this foe once again – skipping the gym, veering from my meal plans, binge eating. The last time I weighed in on November 17, I had regained almost two pounds. I haven’t weighed in since feeling that further weight gain could have a dire effect on my mood and motivation. I recognized quickly that I was getting in my own way but that hasn’t stopped the behavior. I have been asking myself questions, reading online articles about self-sabotaging, talking about my frustrations. All the while, the behaviors have worsened. Two weeks without visiting the gym, eating more cookies than I can log to MyFitnessPal.

Why do I do this… Am I afraid of success? Do I feel like I don’t deserve it? Is the excess weight some kind of security blanket my subconscious mind refuses to release? Am I simply getting over-confident, cocky about my weight loss, playing it fast and loose and paying the price?

I haven’t wanted to write this blog until I had answers to my questions, explanations and analyses. Weeks have passed; however, and I have no answers. While my inner-turmoil will have to be quieted, the most important thing for me right now is to get the self-destructive behavior under control. I have to work through this but, at the same time, I can’t work through this at the expense of the progress I’ve made. So I have come up with some steps which will hopefully help me to move past this stage in my weight loss story – this stage where, historically, the journey has ended.

Fake it ‘til you make it. Even if my heart’s not in it, I will go to the gym and I will meal plan and meal prep each week. I will go through the motions and maintain the physical habit even if the mental one is lagging behind. A subpar workout is better than no workout. A cookie at the end of a healthy day is better than a cookie at the end of a binge.

Seek out motivation. Whether it’s Pinterest fitspo boards, Instagram success stories or Fearless Motivation speeches, I will take motivation from others when I can’t muster it for myself. I have to get encouraged, get inspired, get excited for this journey again.

Own it. I will be transparent and accountable for all of it. Owning this process is great when you feel strong and proud. It can be disheartening and embarrassing when you feel weak and confused. Not owning the uglier sides of this process only creates shame and hinders progress, perpetuating the self-sabotage.

Dig deep. I will delve into my heart and mind and find some answers to what may be driving this tendency to self-sabotage. This could mean journaling, doing research, talking to those closest to me or seeking out a support group. I will never truly move past this and reach my goals without knowing how to heal whatever hurt lies inside me.

Bear with me, dear readers, and I try to get out of my own way. I will have to step up to the mat and confront this old inner-demon head-on but I do so with hope and optimism. There must be a way to work through it and come out the other side fit, healthy and happy.