Navigating the high seas of weight loss, weight gain, and trauma healing

My dog Sophia, who loved taking late-morning naps with me when I was at my worst.

I come from a childhood laced with severe and chronic emotional abuse. As soon as I connected the dots to my low self-esteem, weight issues, disordered eating, and other symptoms of having parents that did the opposite of encourage me and school bullies who were equally belittling, I got into therapy. Because, Helllooo, there had to be something severely wrong with me. I examined, then cleared out all the emotional debris from my past I could get my hands on. Apparently, I didn’t get my hands on all of it (more below).

But there were meteoric ascents from the fruits of my psychological labor, including a mentorship that birthed a 180-pound weight-release, courtesy of Diamond Dallas Page and DDPYOGA (now DDPY). I was on top of the world, but even he noticed something was off, remarking on more than one occasion that my lack of self-confidence was notable and unusual for someone who’d scaled such heights of achievement and had a new lease on life. Still, I was loving life in a renewed, lighter body. And I spent more than a decade doing public speaking, teaching DDPYOGA classes, and writing books on my process.

Being interviewed by Benita Zahn on my local NBC affiliate on my latest book.

It all was smooth sailing until one night in 2014, when someone very dear to me died suddenly and traumatically in front of my eyes. I’ve never fully recovered from the depth of the shock during the incident and in processing it and my grief in the years that followed. What’s certain to me now is, that night opened the gates and unleashed the demons from traumas-past that I didn’t even realize were an issue, that’s how buried they were. My unconscious proactively and protectively hid them so I could better survive, and some of you may know what I’m talking about.

The wounds of betrayal from the inner-circle of family and friends ran so deep I hadn’t even consciously felt them for 50 years. The scars of self-betrayal gouged even more deeply, and hurt beyond description. Too many of my friendships were one-sided, and frought with cleverly disguised ‘to do’ lists and barely disguised contempt. I’d get the arrows disguised as humor, along with the ‘oh don’t be so sensitive’ spankings when I objected. The patterns has started so young, I had no idea, until much later in life, what a healthy relationship with another human being was. Why wouldn’t I cater hither and thither to those who sought my help (mostly in the form of intelligent insight…the unpaid therapist). I mean, I was fat chick with no life, right? Where else did I have to be, other than at someone else’s disposal?  I alternately obeyed the commands and ignored the insults. It all came from a place of what I believed I deserved which, inevitably gets traced back to the way I was parented. Not a new topic for me, but, by middle age, my body and psyche were screaming for the residual mess to be cleaned up once and for all.

So much emotional shrapnel had been fired at me and had settled to the bottom of the river, so to speak, that my body was starting to break down and demand to be heard. (A great book on this is “The Body Keeps The Score,” by Besel van der Kolk). Osteoarthritis, a foot injury, and the onset of autoimmune disease and its various diagnoses all collided at once. I was laid low, had little to no energy reserves, and movement was an achy chore.

I still ate (mostly) gluten-free and dairy-free, but the weight came on. And when 10 pounds turned to 50, then 70, my despair intensified. I wish I could say I was seized with a lightening bolt of inspiration and turned the ship around by getting more stringent with food and forcing myself to exercise, in spite of the pain, but a diet-fitness model isn’t what I need right now. What was required was a deep dive into the troubled waters of my childhood, adolescence and young adulthood. I needed to drop the people-pleasing survival skills because they never worked in the first place, they only reinforced the habit of self-betrayal. Toxic relationships needed to be assessed, and in some cases, tossed on the scrap heap.

To say the process has been painful and unpleasant is an understatement, but for me, further diminishment of my life’s quality is not an option.

Those glorious ‘after’ pictures now elicit an unmistakable sadness in me. As do the YouTube videos from the DDPY production team of my transformation story. Such is life. There are mountains to scale victoriously and valleys of sorrow to stumble through. Having lived successfully as a ‘weight-loss inspiration,’ I now consider it my mantle to be a truth-teller to and for those sensitive, intuitive, highly intelligent souls (men and women) who have been pummeled by the opportunists who lurk down, around, and on life’s unpredictable paths.

Thanks to being kind to myself and with the guidance of nutritionist Nancy Guberti, I’ve made slow, steady strides in my physical health. I have a good deal of my energy back and no longer need a nap (or two) to get through the day. I pray the weight will release when the time is right. It’s not that I buy into the ‘better person when thin’ charade, but the truth is, everything’s easier when I’m at a lower weight. We shall see. I’m concerned with the whole picture, now, but especially trauma-release. The storage of it and how easily it is incurred in our culture of competition and perfectionism is appalling. I’ll be sharing my experiences, hard knocks, and triumphs. There have already been boundary-setting, self-esteem-defining moments and there will be more to come.

I still adore food and cooking and will keep sharing recipes, but the motivation won’t be so much weight-loss in nature as it will the elements of comfort, joy, and nutrition. I believe in eating in a way that not only fuels the body, but helps heal it. I also am prone to treating myself without the offensive terminology of the word ‘cheating.’ I’ll share things I learn about the topics of anti-inflammation, whole, un processed foods, and the importance of eating fresh (leftovers are a no-no for those with Hashimoto’s) but don’t take me for a purist. I’m more of a 70-30 type of gal at this point, but I’m always sure to feel the feelings, so this means crutches such as pigs in a blanket and jam-butter-smothered biscuits are no longer a go-to for feeling better in the moment. Instead, it’s meditation, a 90-minute massage, good book, or lunch with someone who actually loves me (that’s keeeeey).

The only thing I’m concerned with where cheating is concerned is to no longer cheat myself: out of speaking truthfully, out of saying no when I mean no, and cheating myself out of self-respect and dignity by giving time and energy to anyone who doesn’t have a clue about reciprocity.

I don’t expect this will resonate with all of my readers, and that’s OK. It’s important you get your needs met, too. But for whose who find the details of my journey insightful, c’mon along, because everything is better when it’s shared.

Awakening to New Beginnings…