Whole30

Let's face it. Society places a huge emphasis on weight and physical appearance. Think about how many diet plans are out there. There’s the Paleo diet, the Mediterranean diet, the grapefruit diet. Popular in LA are the juice cleanses and detoxes. There’s Weight Watchers, Hydroxycut, and let’s not forget whole30challenge. 

The millions of diets, clean-eating plans, and fitness programs and technology, and surgery all promise one thing: confidence in yourself and love for your body. Not a bad goal…it’s actually a huge goal in my recovery. But where we differ is in the means to the happy healthy you. The diet mentality says the only way to be comfortable in your skin in to lose weight. And by losing weight, the diet “promises” you self-confidence, self-worth, and meaning in life.

This. Is. A. Lie.

Believe me, for years I completely ate it up. I believed if I lost “x” more pounds I would love my body. I aimed to change my body in hopes of finding my place in the world. I ate ‘clean’ to get rid of the disgust and shame I held. But at the end of each day, I was left without any self-worth and zero confidence in my skin. As I lost more and more weight, I began losing who I was. I lost my fiery spirit. I lost my spunk. I lost my will to live.

In direct contrast to everything I’ve heard in the world, I’ve discovered more happiness as I gained weight. Because as I gained weight, I gained myself back. I have opinions again. I have passions that spur a desire to make a difference in the world. I can be silly and not care what people think. I’ve gained back laughter—the kind where you can’t breathe and your stomach hurts so bad!

All of that I did by expanding what I ate…not restricting it. Through eating, I am discovering that confidence doesn’t come from the scale or my physical body at all. It comes from embracing my true spirit. I am reconnecting and maybe knowing for the first time that my self-worth is found in God’s love for me and the incredible human he has created me to be. I am learning that my past mistakes and even future ones do not change that.

A month ago my dietitian challenged me to a different kind of whole30. 30 days of eating 100% of my meal plan. It’s a huge accomplishment that I did it and that am continuing on that path. (Go me!) What I have discovered is that sticking to the plan gives me freedom to find my value in things other than my body.

So I leave you with a similar challenge. For 30 days, fight the diet mentality. However this looks for you, whether its by eating what you want, exercising when it feels good, complimenting your kids on things other than their appearance, directly speaking up for body acceptance, or quietly embracing your body, stick to it for 30 days. It’s my bet that at the end of the 30 days, you’ll keep it going just like I have.

The Space Where Choice Lies.

a piece from my brother's senior art portfolio

There comes a point in gymnastics where it is just you and the beam. You’ve done the drills, you’ve trained your body to do the skill safely, and all that is left is the deciding. Standing on the beam, arms pressed strong overhead, feet aligned, hips square, and I’m ready. I am the only thing that stands in the way of me staying frozen in that position or flying through the air as I connect two back handsprings. So often I stood there frozen. For hours. For days. For weeks. I was stuck. The fear of the unknown, of the potential failure outweighed the possibility of performing the series successfully. But what I didn’t grasp at the time was that staying in that ready position and not going for it led right to the failure I so feared. My rationale was that not giving myself the option meant that I couldn’t mess it up. What if I tried my hardest and still failed? In my mind, I thought that it would feel worse than not trying at all. Now I realize it feels the same. Incapable. Inadequate.

The situation is different now, but the energy is the same. Lately, I’ve been in this limbo of wanting to get better while also wanting to hold onto the safety in my eating disorder. The self-hate and criticism, the story that I replay over and over, somehow seems more comfortable than the risk it would take to go all in. Having the space to decide to tell myself a different story is terrifying. With the power of choice comes responsibility. I tell myself if I don’t allow another option then there isn’t a possibility of failure. I don’t have to wonder “what if”—what if I commit to a path of self-love, compassion, and acceptance, but I fall short? I still end up with the feelings of failure and little self worth. But those are the exact lies that my eating disorder feeds me, which keep me stuck. Just like staying frozen on top of the beam leads to a feeling of failure and inadequacy, so does living in between the eating disordered life and a healthy life. I’m scared of the feelings of failure after I’ve given it my best, but by not trying, I inevitably feel those exact feelings.

What I am realizing is: there is hope in having the space to choose. It subdues the fear. I know I’m already experiencing the very things I am scared of, so why not try? Why not eat my food, and keep it? Why not fight those urges of letting my eating disorder morph into new behaviors? Why not take the risk and trust the process? In allowing the option to succeed I am honoring the part of me that wants to get better. That believes my story has a purpose. That trusts I am loved, cherished, and worthy simply because I exist.

I end with this quote because 1. the image is hilarious and 2. it speaks to so much truth.

“Be decisive. Right or wrong, make a decision. The road of life is paved with flat squirrels who couldn’t make a decision.”