Rebuilding

My mid to late twenties were a season of transition..

There was a relationship that brought me into deeper connection with myself.

There was weight gain and weight loss.

There was a diagnosis,

There was a career shift.

There was a change in scenery change.

There was so much movement.

I don't believe I was ever truly lost. But losing weight did help me find myself--mainly because it was never about the weight.

After ending a very emotional relationship, I moved into a new home. One night, I got up to go to the bathroom and caught my reflection in the mirror as I passed. It startled me.

I didn't recognize her.

The next morning, I looked again, thinking what I previously saw was just dream vision. But it wasn't. The girl in the mirror looked tired. Disconnected. She was carrying more than I remembered taking on.

I stepped on the scale and saw a number higher than I had ever seen.

But what unsettled me more was realizing I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly checked in with myself.

Shame set in.

And then, almost immediately, a decision.

I told myself I would treat her better.

I went shopping for clothes. When the larger sizes didn’t fit and I had to move into a different department, frustration surfaced. I abandoned the clothes in the fitting room and went home.

When I walked in the house the very first thing I saw was my yoga mat. So I took off my shoes, went to the patio, folded myself into Child's Pose and cried.

Then I began the first sequence I had ever memorized--the Ashtanga Primary Series.

It felt good to move and breathe. I was surprised my body still remembered the sequence. Feeling the Earth beneath my feet was grounding.

Afterward, I went for a walk. The yoga had calmed my anger and removed my shame, but sitting there with myself I realized the real problem was that I had stopped taking care of myself and I hadn't noticed it.

It wasn't like I had made an overnight decision to abandon myself.

No. It was small little exceptions here and there. Consistently. And that amounted to me no longer doing the things that mattered to me.

I walked as far as I could, remembering that I had to walk back. Taking in the air and the scenery, I made a promise that I would never desert myself again. I would make time. I would create space. I would build something sustainable.

My weight loss journey was about so much more than losing weight. It was about listening and shifting perspective; it was about forming consistency with myself over being inteto a trend. It was about learning to love me and creating the life that I desire.

And it wasn't easy. Or fast.

It took three years to release old mindsets and poor habits, and the weight that those things carry. It took another two years to learn my own natural rhythms and set up systems that support that.

It took even more time to recover from illness and then reintegrate a more personalized approach to my already unique lifestyle.

One thing I've learned is that being intentional and curating a lifestyle that is maintainable takes time.