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. 

You Are Here

You are here. You are near the beginning… on the first of many steps. You have come a little way, but not far enough to be tired, not far enough to be looking behind you. You are still so far from the place you are going that it is more imagined than seen. You are here in this place, which is exactly as far as you should be given your time and effort. You aren’t where you want to be, where you planned to be.


I am not where I want to be and I am not surprised. I have been waiting for this. I knew it was coming. I knew I had not done everything I could, everything I was supposed to. I have become entirely too comfortable rationalizing skipping a workout or indulging in just one more small square of dark chocolate. The only victory I can take away from this morning’s four-week weigh-in was that I still managed to lose something; however small. Honestly, I was expecting to see a slight gain. I have indulged in Friday night (vegan) buttered popcorn, Saturday date night dinner with dessert and a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter, direct from jar to mouth, on Sunday afternoon. I allowed myself to get overwhelmed by my schedule and cancelled my first planned Yoga class on Thursday, I promised to do my Friday workout on Saturday after my normally-planned non-impact cardio session (a promise I broke) and I skipped Sunday’s workout as well for really no reason at all. Three days off my meal plan and four days of foregoing workouts – I know I dodged a bullet by still sneaking out of the week with .4 pound lost. David and I sat on the couch last night and vowed to buckle down and get our heads back in the game – we shook on it and everything, very official-like – but the question of why I have been veering off course so early in this process looms.

I can merrily come up with a handful of excuses to explain my behavior. I can probably even dress them up a bit with some ferocious conviction and make them sound like legitimate reasons. It goes something like, “I’m so busy, I didn’t get meal prep done, it’s too hot to run outside, I have cramps, I am tired, blah blah blah.” It is all nonsense. My motivation has shifted and fallen short. It shouldn’t have – I was getting results, I was feeling great after workouts and I was getting plenty of delicious and nutritious food to eat throughout the day. I have had days when the fire in my belly burned strong but, unfortunately, I have also had self-congratulatory days when I started resting on my laurels and I have had complacent days when I couldn’t be bothered to care. In my excitement to start taking a beginners yoga class again, I have mentally and motivationally veered off on a tangent of researching Ayurvedic recipes, relaxing new age Tibetan soundscape music and $100 meditation pillows; none of which help me to stay on track with my punishing TRX and cardio workouts (you know, those things most vital to shedding 55 pounds).

As of today, it has been four weeks since I started this journey again. I have barely begun. I haven’t even taken my one-month progress photo yet and I am already coasting to a stop. I know from experience that this is not something you can accomplish by taking time off, by letting your foot off the gas for even a moment. This set-back has to be something that motivates me rather than discourages me. This is a lesson I needed to be reminded of so that I can move forward. I have a renewed commitment with David to get back on track full-time, I have an exciting long-term goal in discovering a local 10k race in November but I think the time has come to begin establishing some short-term goals: challenging but achievable goals that will work as individual steps to get me closer to my future plans. These steps, although small, give me close-to-instant gratification and a sense of satisfied elation when I scale them. These steps, although small, stack one atop another until I have climbed a height seemingly impossible or unimaginable from the start. Thinking cap: On… What step will take me to where I want to go. I am here… where do I want to go?


207.8 (.4 pounds lost this week, 7.2 pounds lost total)