Eight days of ‘clean eating,’ without enough distance between the old and new body, causes anxiety, trepidation, and fear. Without prepared protein, grabbing any and every delectable is likely. A package of Muenster cheese mysteriously ends up in a hand to mouth duel without thought, reason, or consciousness. A declaration and commitment made to unprocessed food just eight days prior leads the cheese back to the kitchen without consumption. Disaster averted, pondering the challenge and bumpy road of this lifestyle change deliberates in my mind.

Wondering why change for the better in exchange for the taste of anything has not been our protocol. Illogically choosing cheese over an improved life, healthier body, or opportunity to become comfortable in my skin baffles us. Prior efforts to deflate the packed-on pounds into submission, release, and permanent removal has been defeated. Weight represents protection, fear, and a lack of self-respect and easing old pain.

To feel comfortable in our skin, experience self-love, respect, and gratitude for our given body, be energized by consumed foods and nurtured by our choices, are reasons to commit to change. During a healing journey, digging and delving deep beneath the surface, we imagine the gratifying result of knowing and feeling happiness, euphoric peace, and self-love. Though foreign presently, change is a clean bite or two away. Numbing feelings, until a bag, box, or bowl empties into our stomachs, is no longer serving nor valuing us, nor establishing successful results.

Feeling emotions is a gift of human nature, self-care, self-love, and self-respect wrapped into one. Pushing emotions away rather than feeling them establishes self-destructive reactions. Acknowledging, embracing, and expressing emotions into existence eases the pain as they dissipate. Numbing them often destructively alters them into anger, depression, and actions in the form of consuming unhealthy foods. Change is a series of small actions repeated over time in exchange possibly for feeling whole, secure, healthy and happy.

This road to recovery is rocky, a path without soft edges or smooth walkways. Paving it as we travel is one of healing, learning, and ultimate, sustainable change. The bumpy avenue levels out, unravels the knots tied long ago, and paves itself as we remove fear, gain clarity, and produce healthy, nutritional habits and results. This walkabout is long and vast, through fog-like, challenging terrain. A smooth road it is not, until the sun shines, the transparency illuminates, and the power embraced to reach any potential exists.

Sometimes keeping sugar at bay, denying it consumption, feels like holding the breath. Its intensity is like remaining afloat without a life preserver, treading water, and hoping that willpower and strength sustains its absence. Additionally simple sugar weakens physically and psychologically by its addictive nature.

For many, like a drug, sugar has the same numbing effect as heroin. During an author’s interview, she commented that heroin use feels as if everything will be okay, and reduces emotional and physical pain. Any worries become all right, she added. Sugar alleviates emotions depth into dormancy. Making everything okay, all concerns slip away, and pain ceases to exist. Like an addictive drug, ceasing to utilize this substance, an aching, wanting, or need continues.

Substance abuse and addiction, its destructive element destroys physically, emotionally, and acts as an escape from reality. With food addiction, it increases the waistline, infiltrates with toxins, and slows the body’s ability to digest and function properly. Psychological need eventually affects one’s quality of life. Cycling like a merry-go-round, fearful of the pain associated with eliminating sugar, consumption increases.

“It’s not jumping out of a plane that will kill you; it’s the landing.” Landing gear for sugar detoxification simulates removal of an addictive substance. It challenges physically with headaches, exhaustion, and a mental pull to retreat from indulgence. Bodies across America utilize sugar and food as a numbing agent visibly. The addictive substance aids and abets us from feeling emotions, stress, and pain. Without “using,” acknowledging, feeling, and expressing emotions, alters the need to numb. Addressing the purpose for emotional and physical escape via an addictive substance supports recovery.

Although “everything in moderation” seems a solution, this need not apply to sugar addicts. Moderation leads to greater ingested amounts infiltrating the body through loss of control. Small amounts trigger the physical need for more to reach the same initial high or numbing effect. Like alcoholics, the addictive nature warrants self-control, an elimination of the substance, and a diligent path to recovery. Although socially acceptable and legal, sugar remains a destructive, health problem. Struggling with this affliction, elimination may be the ultimate solution. If asked to work in a bakery or candy store, sugar addicts need not apply. This is a recipe for disaster.

Although walking alone along a highwire, support from others helps balance, stability, and hope for reaching the destination. Striving towards commitment in twelve-week increments, the next three-month journey commences with heightened awareness and energy toward new fitness and weight loss goals plus additional knowledge ready for utilization. These weeks occupy greater significance with the addition of my spouse, a welcoming change to the challenge.

My lifelong partner in marriage, friendship, and well-being, aiming to balance his life with healing and health, is signing onto this lifestyle of “clean” eating and boot camp fitness classes. The winds of change are upon us, energy sharply attuned toward a healthy lifestyle grows near. This new aspiration for change is attractive. Excitement and rebirthing our youthful energy from when our vows echoed the wedding hall, causes high expectations to arouse.

His and my depleted energy, as years passed, transformed, aged, and degraded our bodies. Childbirth, responsibilities, and emotional baggage imbalanced work, eroded physical and mental health, and separated our united support of one another. Wanting the best for both of us was never enough. Until individually each of us rises with self-care, self-love, and dedicated time to personal growth and health, efforts were futile. Resigning to the possibility that our paths deviated from our center, alone I traveled along the fitness and healthy food path.

Raising hope when he signed on to join my crusade, winded up expectations. Wanting desperately to observe his success reach fruition is like hearing a joyous song of hope and exaltation rather than the requiem that played in my head at each attempt and failure of the past. Yet we are ripe for change; this program seems sustainable and transformative. Many role models along this path are achieving successful results; we shall follow.

Freshly sharing discussions and perspectives, a newly energized life appears. The scent adds new flavor and vigor, enriching our lives dramatically. Like hitting a refresh button, starting something novel when the previous leaves of our core have died, withered and dropped from their branches, our united space adds a sense of excitement, a former dream not manifested until now.

Collaborating with my spouse at the new starting line adds support and a union for preparation and strategy, enhancing the lifestyle experience immensely. My brave man joins the race, the human movement towards bettering his circumstances, improving his inner and outer health. Together we are stronger; it is easier to be brave with TWO. Partnering up solidifies are chances for success.

“Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren’t a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.” – Cheryl Strayed from “Wild”

An indelible impression sweeps through me by the memoir, “Wild,” written by Cheryl Strayed, resonating in a heartfelt, self-identifiable way. She speaks of “alone” as being a place she retreats to in order to be her authentic self, a concept I recognize and empathize with wholeheartedly. This aloneness serves me in life, sometimes as an escape, but more as a haven of safety, a dwelling of non-conformity, and an enabling of my “self” to remain intact.

To inwardly blossom among the trees that frighten me, and become exactly as they, I retreat into the quiet serenity of myself to a place where the aloneness carries me, gathering my essence of love and self-acceptance. There I sometimes remain, unable to cross into social interaction that threatens exposure, vulnerability, and authenticity. Like walking naked among the woods, the forest feels threatening, fenced in by false bravado and fraudulent exhibition.

Retreating into aloneness quiets the fears and energizes my soul. In venturing outward, I tread slowly, deliberately among a trusted crowd, birthing a path to connect with other’s authentic selves. This enriches my soul, enhances my life, and engraves my inner light to shine brighter. Yet when the world feels overwhelming, exhausting, indulgent in fear, I still retreat into the “alone,” a room that protects and grants me safety to be who I am.

The monotony of failure to lose weight challenges exhaustive attempts to repeat. Daily reissuing the “start” and seizing the opportunity to change frequently capsize by cravings by day’s end, leading success astray. Failure to maintain healthy choices washes over me in a sea of relentless self-deprecating defeat. Wallowing and aware of weakened will power as sugar tips the scale in its favor elongates the stream of failures.

Why believe that today is the triumphant transition, arriving at the pinnacle and turning point, eliminating sugar forever? Is this a reasonable expectation when sugar, a highly utilized ingredient in the food supply has addictive properties? If an addiction affects our lifestyle negatively, is it not in our best interest to eliminate the ingredient that causes duress and limits our success?

Food addiction exhibits itself publicly, the body acting as a host of gluttony, lacking self-control and will power. Acting as a numbing agent, food alleviates physical pain, loneliness, and emotional stress, while sugar addiction counters attempts towards positive change. The alternative function of food as a source of fuel for energy and well-being is the vital message to alter efforts.

A constant battle of diet wars needs peaceful resolution, ending constant failures. Ready to change, the relentless pursuit of sugar daily destroys all attempts into the monotony of failure. Hopes and dreams rise and fall, deteriorating the full court press into fouling out, benched for sugar intake violation, the addiction defending itself within the body. Although a common crusade, many foul out repeatedly attempting to win the weight loss game.

Yet although the game feels unwinnable with the monotony of failures, successful individuals do climb over the hump of addiction, utilize food as fuel, emotionally heal, and achieve sustainable, successful weight loss. Failure becomes a faded memory and monotony of success assumes a front-row position where failure once lived. Faithfully following a lifestyle focusing on self-accountable, supportable, and sustainable actions, failure is no longer an option.

A journey to the monotony of success requires determination, embracing the imperfect moments as learning opportunities, and healing the emotional baggage no longer needed as a numbing agent. There is power in this process, like a pause at the end of a breath, illuminating heightened awareness for change. When we journey with attention, energy, and healing, brokenness initially leads us astray, yet then empowers us to overcome addiction, respecting each decision mindfully; success becomes the residual effect.

Advice to offer the health-bound traveler, take one small step at a time. Repeat. Move moment by moment until a day, two days, and three have passed. Repeat until a week, two weeks, and three have passed. Repeat. Make conscious, thoughtful decisions during each present moment. Do not review poor decisions or successes that no longer contribute to current actions. None of it matters; the only significant moment is now.

Sugar addiction does not recognize the past, nor care about the future. It knows only “now,” and creates the constant craving that meets a need. As a bottomless pit of doom, climbing out from sugar addiction is the only option. Playing with fire by toying with carbohydrates and testing the body’s limits ultimately causes decline. Sugar rattles the senses, the sensitivity too great to moderate.

Triggered emotionally, numbing through sugar is substance abuse. Utilizing sugar for alternate purposes is an unhealthy game of Russian roulette. With the inability to handle even small amounts, a binge occurs while expecting relief, finding ourselves pushed further into the “rye” awaiting a “catcher.” Yet nothing rescues the befallen except elimination of the substance.

With blood sugar imbalances, expecting will power to ensure recovery is unproductive. Physical abstinence must play a considerable part in “getting clean.” With plated protein, vegetables, and healthy fats, stabilize these spikes into equilibrium. Balancing repeatedly day-to-day is the solution. Negotiating anything else has proven futile. Until reaching total sugar sobriety, live moment by moment, choose wisely, and recognize physical vulnerability. Achieving stable sugar levels is the repeatable action step. Repeat, repeat, repeat!

Thinking I would “go” this health journey alone at home, face my weaknesses and potential failures, my closest confidante joins the arena, no longer willing to sit along the sidelines of life anymore. Just when I needed a hand, a fist bump from another warrior, a crusader to cruise into cascading boulders of life with me, he stands up and commits to the cause, capturing the essence of the power of two.

Together we vow, practice self-care, and apply the final change to our lives, healing the insides that trigger our past that flail in our midst and affect our present. Addicted to numbing, reacting, and evading emotions by consumption of unhealthy edibles, we rise, fueling our souls with the necessary recipe for success.

Nearly a decade and a half ago we began our lives with promise, hope and love of a tomorrow we envisioned, and a yesterday lay to rest. Yet the tomorrows often consumed our past, extinguishing the potential success of our future.

Just when I thought I would have to “go” it alone, he joins the health movement, seizes the opportunity, and unites with me again. A miraculous moment as destiny materializes, a pivot or shift to the winds of change, when a clear vision of one’s future has met with the present moment. Shift happens.

Although I maintain stable sugar levels diligently, eventually simple sugars streams their way into my bloodstream, tormenting my body again to wreak havoc. Recklessly devouring any ounce of decency and will power, cravings begin, and my responsible, vigilant plan disappears in a sweet, line of attack.

Unprepared and blindly stupefied, my plan goes awry and a formerly, strategic executed day fails. Without a proper breakfast, prepared “clean” foods, the weakness unfolds again with fatal results. Sinking into the plate, I expect to reach a comfortable base the following day. Instead, I miss again with Strike 2.

What I would not do to return to bat, tapping the ball in for a “clean” single full of energy, hope, and assurance of a smooth run and paved path leading to the next. Following diligently without detours and obstacles, I imagine what I would not do. My need to will it all into place, I summon the “I will not’s”:

1. I will not allow processed foods to cross my lips.
2. I will not walk into stores that contain isles of sweet temptations.
3. I will not deceive myself that my kids’ snacks are mine.
4. I will not believe a few days do not matter. Small increments add up.
5. I will not pretend I am healed, cured, and free from sugar addiction.
6. I will not practice self-sabotage.
7. I will not lie to myself about what needs to be done.

There is no try; there is only do. – Yoda

Today what I will not do will dictate what I do. Up to the plate again, striking out is not an option. A base hit is what I will do. Done is what I would not do.

A family friend used to share this little gem of a joke:

The Captain called the Sergeant in. “Sarge, I just got a telegram. Private Jones’ mother died yesterday. Better go tell him and send him in to see me.”

So the Sergeant calls for his morning formation and lines up all the troops. “Listen up, men,” says the Sergeant. “Johnson, report to the mess hall for KP. Smith, report to Personnel to sign some papers. The rest of you men report to the Motor Pool for maintenance. Oh, by the way, Jones, your mother died, report to the commander.

Later that day the Captain called the Sergeant into his office. “Hey, Sarge, that was a pretty cold way to inform Jones his mother died. Couldn’t you be a bit more tactful next time?” “Yes, sir,” answered the Sarge.

A few months later, the Captain called the Sergeant in again, with, “Sarge, I just got a telegram. Private McGrath’s mother died. You had better go tell him and send him in to see me. This time, be more tactful.”

So the Sergeant calls for his morning formation. “Ok, men, fall in and listen up. Everybody with a mother, take two steps forward — NOT SO FAST, McGRATH!”

Of course, my reason for remembering this joke has even lighter humor. “OK, men, fall in and listen up. Everybody who has not had simple sugar in the last 24 hours, take two steps forward — NOT SO FAST, EDINBERG!”

I allowed sugar to permeate my blood stream again. Failing to react in time, it became a runaway freight train. Like charging full speed ahead, this substance ascended with gradual, yet persistent force and recklessness. A feeling of needing more and more sweetness swept over me until I consumed, and was fully consumed by, the simple sugar.

Feeling groggy with a sugar-induced hangover and a sense of failure, I attempt sugar elimination again. Like a drug, the physical addiction of sugar lures itself back into my body. Regulating my blood sugar level to circumvent the cravings and nourish the body with seventy-two hours of clean eating to build a defense against my drug of choice is necessary. Self-control, exercise, and resolve strengthen my mind and body against the threat of processed, sugar-laden food’s access. Next time attention is called to stand in formation, I hope to take two steps forward and not hear, “Not so fast, Edinberg!”

Giving scales power to decide our fate daily distresses our emotions. An inanimate, metal box spinning numbers like the Wheel of Fortune for the winning weight offers little pertinent information. It serves as a unit of measure for successful or failed weight loss, yet limits our story. It knows not the decreased number of inches or muscle mass, strength and stamina, nor does it measure heart rate, hydration levels, or the size of our clothing. With considerable impact, it affects numerous lives, some as early as childhood. Allowing it to control our emotions daily weakens us.

First measurement of pounds affecting my psyche begins at age eleven in a school nurse’s office. Although not a contest, our sixth grade class enters an arena like a boxing match, weighing in for competition. Checking weight and height in public schools is routine. We stand in line for weight and height measurement’s announcement and entry onto a brown, clipboard. Each number’s declaration defines each person stepping on the metal device. Comparing individuals with murmurs and whispers, tension fills the air. My stomach curls with each proclamation, shame fills my insides, and the fear of weighing too much makes my heart bleed faster. An inner whisper confirms I am not likeable, excessively fat, and weigh a significant extra five pounds than taller bystanders.

My heavy feet walk the funeral march back to our classroom, along the white tiled corridor with flickering shadows due to the above faulty bulbs. Silence deafens my insides, my heart racing while the numbers twirl in my head lessening my worth with each step. Two friends identify my depressed demeanor, and speak encouragingly of how the numbers are worthless. Yet I remain vigilantly aware of the humiliating nature of those statistics, the story they confirm my suspected ugliness and not-good-enough feeling.

Had my mother not shouted obscenities countless times of “what is wrong with you” perhaps this story contains a different ending. Yet like many, our inner voice begins to host shame that leads to a lifetime of self-destructive behavior involving diets and surrendering to the scale’s daily assertions. Our relationship with the scale, shame, and weight varies depending upon initial exposure, stories we tell ourselves, and yearly pediatrician visit experiences.

Defining my existence, pounds rose and fell to meet a weight chart’s expectations of good versus bad, too little, or too much. Meeting these numbers fostered diets from childhood to adulthood. My success and failures lived and died with the scale, and determined self-worth. The story I designed established an inner critic, projecting judgment I felt from others. Daily I granted the metallic geometric contraption power to choose how I felt about myself based upon its numeric results.

Thirty-five years later, contemplating the influence the scale possesses the misconception and declaration of success or failure still affects me. During this new lifestyle journey, I remove the scale from my daily existence as recommended. The urge to know the number diminishes slightly. Although unwarranted, a weekly “weigh-in” at the gym still conjures old emotions. Recognizing a number cannot define our self-worth is crucial for well being.

Releasing the scale’s hold on us, acknowledging non-scale victories like clothing size changes, increased energy, strength, and feeling comfortable in our skin are true triumphs beyond measure. Acquiring emotional balance and well-being about our weight diminishes the power we have granted the scale. Giving away control to an inanimate object is futile. We reach success when the scale no longer carries weight. Until then, we remind ourselves daily of our true worth, aware we are not defined by a number, neither loss nor gain. While still emotionally triggered by the scale, weighing in carries too much weight.

Resilience and sustainability with any food lifestyle is a necessary, challenging, and continuous process in multiple situations. A wedding weekend brings less than optimal food choices testing my power to resist and persist. Mentally preparing for three days of choices teeters on mishap and maintenance. Twelve weeks seems enough expertise and food choice proficiency, as well as twenty weeks of dumbbell wielding, boot camps priming my body for an elegant black dress, prepared for a thinner, trimmer me. Assessing whether my lifestyle is sustainable during special scenarios as weddings, celebrations, and holidays, are tests of my ability to adjust without thwarting weight loss efforts.

Friday evening, a smorgasbord of Italian fare decorates the table: fried calamari, chicken parmesan, spaghetti and meatballs, Caesar salad, and wine. Patiently awaiting Saturday night wedding food, I cultivate determination to make healthy choices. Eating salad, calamari with fried breading frayed off, and scraped breaded, baked chicken, I make smart decisions. Composure is kept at the dessert table when I “take the gun and leave the cannoli,” while tiramisu is left untouched and unconsumed. I eat salads and protein throughout the following day without incident. Feeling empowered of successful results invigorates me.

The wedding dinner approaches; I prepare to make some allowances purposefully. Choosing two ounces of red wine and at least six ounces of protein maintains stable, not off-the-rail choices. Yet the dessert buffet table offers extensive choices of candy and chocolate baked goods like those from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I choose the cookies ‘n cream cupcake, motivated by frosting rather than cake, a delicacy I dissect and limit total consumption. As a controlled decision, it feels good to choose and limit the amount. An inner voice says, “Choose what you really, really, really want, and leave the rest.”

I really, really, really want the frosting that rises out of this masterful cupcake. Eating frosting from a cupcake may sound as appetizing and strange as eating the inside of an Oreo®. Yet for some of us, that portion is all one needs for utter elation and euphoria. With jubilation, I ate the sweet, savory icing from the cupcake, journaling the quarter cup of frosting into My Fitness Pal and close the day out. By dawns early light, I achieve the honorable and survive a wedding weekend, making responsible food choices.

Monday morning arrives, boot camps are scheduled, detoxification of sugar is underway, and my resolve physically and mentally strengthens after leaning into the normalcy of life and a special weekend. Celebrations often offer less than optimal food options. Delicacies not designed with the body in mind, instead on behalf of the taste buds, hardly recognize their physical effects upon the gut, how they digest, and affect the waistline. Even with unique events, maintaining a commitment to a healthy lifestyle is possible. Empower yourself with healthy choices even in limited circumstances, selecting the unhealthy path occasionally.

Knowledge and perseverance for a strong healthy result, while eliminating destructive behaviors, is powerful. Although this weekend spotlights a successful outcome, the amount of energy and decision making it takes cannot be underestimated. Energy and determination utilized for overcoming vulnerability is necessary. Old patterns pounce when the armor cracks and fragility arises; sugar and alcohol fuels flames. With power tested, resilience won, and sustainability of a healthy lifestyle trumps the sugar! Testing power is sweeter when we persevere!

Accountability to a group or team reduces sole responsibility. Support enables us to navigate challenging circumstances alongside others. Accepting support and reciprocating to ensure reaching goals alleviates the aloneness of life’s journeys. Yet what happens when we relieve ourselves of self-accountability? Should we fail, may we blame others for our collapse? Blaming others eases the burden of failure. Yet should we succeed, do we acknowledge success, or do we give credit to the community that supported our victory?

Some of us function remarkably well following another’s lead, yet left to our own devices lack the strength to commit and endure challenging journeys. We crumble alone but succeed by relying upon other’s direction and support, thriving while led to victory. This is not to claim that direction, mentoring, and education are not worthwhile for achieving endeavors. Yet recognize that eventually we must become personally accountable for our successes and failures in order to empower our “selves” with the reigns of our destiny.

As one exercise and food program concludes and another begins, my habitual pattern of releasing support lacks transition to sole, self-accountability. If the only motivation has been accountability to others, when the term limit ends, the progress stalls. The disempowerment of placing all efforts toward the good of the team without self-accountability and responsibility reduces long-term effectiveness and success. Rather than viewing other’s expertise as the sole mechanism for guidance, self-responsibility is required to share the result.

Without the self-accountability piece in place by acknowledging our mistakes and successes and owning our share of the process and progress, utilizing the community is not sustainable. A balance prevents leaning fully upon a crutch, the imbalance of power. “It takes a village” includes self and community responsibility toward a common goal. Although the world necessitates leaders and followers, personal goals present a dual contribution.

Mindful responsibility while heeding advice from others is a balance worth seeking. Should support dissipate, decline, and falter, self-reliance upon a solid foundation successfully prepares us to continue the journey alone, until new discovery and aligned support is situated. This builds walls of sustainability within our foundation. Additionally it allows ownership for success, rather than a statuesque creation of someone else’s vision. When we choose to give up our power and rely solely upon others, we weaken our innate ability to survive and thrive. Embrace self-accountability, and the world rises to meet and greet you with the supplemental support you seek.

Twenty-four hours sometimes feels like it can make or break change. Today marks a new day to rise and shine again. Surviving one full day back on a healthy food and exercise plan pivots the mindset inside and out as vulnerability plays its tune and the body craves sugar, urging rest upon a couch and the tendency to eat bonbons.

Journaling food into My Fitness Pal, attending a boot camp exercise class, and visualizing desired outcomes trump cravings and weakness. Steaz® beverages replace cookies, vegetables and grass-fed beef replace pizza. Cookies entice and seduce, as does pizza when served to offspring. Carbohydrates perpetuate a need for increased sugar when energy levels diminish. Instead, healthy, “clean” food choices contribute to energy remaining stable eliminating roller coaster, blood sugar levels.

Although day two is critical upon this journey, every day is crucial. Giving each moment intention and energy is vital to doing the small things that make us successful. Being present in each moment enables focus on what occurs, consciously, mindfully, and bravely. Visualize the goal as successful, imagine the feeling of reaching the end, and then be in the moment to determine actions and outcomes. A new day dawns inside and out. Rise and shine to meet it.

It is simple, I thought I was cured.” Like all the other get-fit and weight loss programs, at the final weigh-in,” I am cured,” or so I believe. Yet hauntingly it is untrue again. No cure for an addiction, only a commitment to sobriety continues the journey past the finale of my twelve-week challenge.

Knowing which triggers activate failure is beneficial, as to thwart the nasty beast from our backs as it is attacking. Through the journey, which emotions do I attempt to numb? What aspect of self-worth am I not feeling? Can I re-frame the metaphors surrounding me to understand more? What ingredient crept into my system that physically affects my decision making process? What tools honed under my belt exist ready for active-duty in my arsenal?

To embrace imperfection, acknowledge and mend the kinks in armor, and persevere in the face of adversity, are desirable results. Transitioning from one program into the next begins. Change requires strengthened resilience, and empowers with acceptance rather than resistance. Lean into the tension and release the emotions in order to excel with clarity and purpose. To reframe the ending as a new beginning, energizes and enables setting new goals while receptive to feeling the fear and courageously moving forward.

This is still my time; nothing stands in my way when I maintain self-worth, self-respect, and self-love to empower self-care. Tools of journaling, community support for recipes and emotional upheaval, and books, research, and experts guiding with nutritional information are critical. Teaching others strengthens my resolve and reinforces learning. Gratitude naturally occurs from an inner circle of support.

Sugar infiltrating my body is temporary and will release its hold within 72 hours when its energy depletes and sugar blood levels balance again. Its withdrawal will contain a short-lived hold that tempts, weakens, and tricks me into negative thoughts, low energy, and resistance from what is healthy. Sugar’s trickery cannot last on its own; it needs a weakened, unmotivated mind to shovel additional sweet edibles into the station, encouraging addictive survivability.

Though my vulnerability affected my last few days, I continue to strive towards my goals, reminded of my tools and social support, inner strength, and resilience. I return protein-filled and happy. Watching out for the craving, the suppressed emotions, the physical and mental addiction to the big C’s as cookies, cake and candy, and know they are simply a mask of trickery lurking, attempting to lure me back to addiction. I am worthy of sobriety. Thought I was cured. I know better, and now I will do better.

Success has never felt so sweet, high fives fill the air; the smell of victory enhances the flavor I can taste, and my smile screams, “Eureka!” Thinking I found the Holy Grail, discovered the secret to weight loss and fitness, my elation feels boundless. With the commitment to boot-camp classes and eating clean, I crossed a 17.4-pound, 5% body fat loss finish line.

Riding high, feeling invincible in a place of extraordinary comfort, I hope this good feeling is not fleeting. My belief in its sustainability, continuation, and successful march to the next leg of the weight loss journey seems like a road well traveled. People have my back, support me, and my words echo within, “This is my time; nothing is getting in my way.” My inner cheerleader believes in my strength to outweigh my weaknesses. Yet the scale tips upward when I have let my guard down in the past, the addiction pounces when the fort lays unprotected.

Strangely, I neglect to weigh in at the finale of this twelve-week program I joined, as most brave souls did. The truth is I am full of shit. Without a bowel movement, I know the scale inches upward, causing my elation to drown in the scale’s declaration. Weighing in the prior eleven weeks and needing to feel the success without the power of the scale overshadowing my numbers seems a smart action.

Feeling fixed after twelve, powerful weeks, I deceive myself. Congratulating cronies and accepting compliments for the journey we ventured together, I feel fraudulent. A “Now what” feeling plagues me as I drive from the final weigh-in event. Instantly catapulted into another five-week gig with them to keep me losing the excess appendages from my thighs, I am an onion, layers peeling off revealing my inner recesses beneath the pounds shed. Numbness envelopes me as I drive home. “What next” troubles me.

During this body challenge program, workout acquaintances empower themselves with a lifestyle plan of clean eating and intense boot camp classes to lose unwanted weight. Soul searching and deep discovery fidgets with broken, damaged, and inner, emotional pieces as the weight releases and the heart attempts mending. Belief that anything is possible energizes, inspires, and motivates jumping back on the wagon for continued success.

For some, their resiliency springs them back aboard, while others remain dangling from the side, clawing to climb up a divot-less wall, a slippery slope simply too challenging to grab hold. Hands extend from those above, attempting to reach participants below for support and shoulder them upward. Sometimes help is not enough to catapult those struggling to safety, whereas others receive the exact inspiration and motivation needed to return to a successful journey aboard.

Admiring those able to rejoin the clan, I wonder if climbing along the slippery wall while seduced by sugar addiction, old habits, and emotional baggage characterizes me as a survivor or one of the defeated. Now faced with fear, I allow a small amount of sugary poison into my system, enough to cause the cravings to grab hold. With sugar in my body, I surrender willingly, guiltily, sliding down the wagon wheel towards the ground. I am sliding, gliding, and escaping into an abyss.

Falling off the wagon is not my low point. Twelve weeks, a minuscule half percent of my entire life risks becoming obsolete, erased, and derailed from the tracks. The excuses I spew and negotiate how I can “get clean” at any point, as if climbing back on the wagon is a simple avenue I will eventually choose, are lies. Instead, an hour off the wagon turns into a day, a day into two, and then a week. Addiction calls my name and has me running its protocol; rock bottom is nearby.

Gathering strength to fight the endless tide of sugar addiction, the good fight feels futile. Demonic cookies, evil candy, decadent, seductive chocolate, and a continuing stream of sugary carbohydrates drench my system with its luring euphoria. Wanting to “get clean,” the cravings continue relentlessly.

Searching my social, inner circle for support for “Falling off the wagon,” I discover numerous victims of devastating self-destructive behavior. Gathering inspiration from their plight, mentors also kindly respond with compassion, motivation, and empathy to bait me upward. Addiction silences them temporarily, yet I know their words, thoughts, and deep-felt caring beckons deeper within where the heart feels healing.

Lifted by their words of wisdom, resilience is knocking. When knocked over the side of the wagon, what we do matters. Dusting myself off, beginning again, using effective tools, and moving forward with supportive arms reaching for me when I falter, fear dissipates gradually. Climbing back on the wagon holds the key to freedom, peace, and elation. Although the poisonous spew of sugar remains in my system, the future appears promising. “This is my time! Nothing is getting in my way!” and the commitment to change commences.

What if GMO, artificial sweetener, pesticide-covered vegetables, hydrogenated oil, high fructose corn syrup, dairy from a hormone-filled cow, and all other foods from nutrient-depleted soil, produce lack of clarity, a muted heart, your essence from being heard, and a chatter-filled mind? What if the intuitive, all-knowing whisper within, is only heard with a clear mind, a rested body, and an open heart? I argue that the world’s authentic guidance system has been silenced by artificial interferences, statically covering up inner truth. Yet, this realization enables hope and possibility for its reversal.

It is hard to know one’s truth, one’s ultimate purpose when the body is depleted of the nourishment it requires. However, uncover the music, undo the damage, remove the poison that rages within, and the energy you have been lacking comes alive, as if reborn, now engaged in life for the first time. In essence, arrive back to a place from which we have come. This renewal changes all you know to be true; all that you have sensed becomes your potential. The revelation that food matters for all that you are is a truth worth knowing, information worth spreading.

There is a reason that people who go on juice fasts have abundant energy after a couple of days. It seems counterintuitive. Yet our lives have been spent, literally, on digestion. The body breaks down ingested, consumed food, and mechanically sends your whole being energy with which to grow and function. Send nutrient-dense, vegetable juice and like an injection, the body functions optimally without utilizing energy for digestion. Therefore, the surplus of energy is used elsewhere. Want energy? Juice it. “Got Energy?” is an excellent slogan for eliminating the treadmill, upon which most of us have been running.

When the body, designed for digestion is overworked, underpaid, and depleted of nutritional needs, the body’s restless, weakened, and decreased spirit, craves excess food to meet its needs, many filled with toxins. These foreign entities within the body destabilize the cells, causing illness ultimately like a formation of armies causing a coupe-like reaction against the body. Within this Trojan horse of an exterior shell, they wreak havoc silently, dormantly, eventually causing symptoms until disease is diagnosed. They ravage cities and towns, the bodily mechanics and systems with capital buildings known as organs, until surrendering into disease. Soon the physical vessel you have called home, which you have been entrusted with in this lifetime, is six-feet under.

We have a choice whether to surrender or even to allow the armies to congregate. Take hold of these militants by sending them peaceful, energetic, organic nutrients to fill themselves with life force versus a death option. By sending a living food throughout the system, this physical vessel begins to work in harmony. Soon one feels renewed, invigorated, younger, and more like one’s authentic self than ever before. (“….more me than I’ve ever been”) The true self shines through, one’s essence returns, and like birthing the heart, renews the spirit.

Every decision we make is a choice. When using a toxic-filled mind fueled by foods that prevent clear thinking, change is challenging. Knowing this truth may be the knowledge necessary to transform past actions. The coupe for change must overhaul, take charge, and adopt a leadership role. Within, nutrient-based fuel utilizes enzymatic pieces of the outside world to harmonize with the inner workings of the body. They exhume your being, cleanse, and release your essence from captivity that it experienced since the first unrecognizable entity (“edible food-like substances”) entered the vessel.

Allowing the healing to take place in the form of life force energy via real, “Clean” food, brings the body to optimum health again. This freedom is the destination we strive toward, to enable us to live and breathe our best lives. With this energy and clarity, we can live an openhearted existence. Our life purpose naturally will be lived, while the music of all that we are is played and heard by the world. Living one’s authentic life is about retrieving the gifts given, and utilizing them with intention. What if raw, organic, and “clean” food were the simple answer, the edible truth?

Cleansing, sweeping, and ridding the clothes from my closet was an exceptional proactive experience, healingly therapeutic, and energetically freeing. Multiple sizes from different stages of weight loss and gain, clothes representing various careers had hung like memories awaiting resurrection. Removed from my closet, the “old”, folded garments adorning my bedroom floor patiently awaited bagging and boxing for donation. Two months later, those clothes have not reached their destination. You read that correctly. My closet’s contents were removed from their historical location ten feet away, and have laid upon my bedroom floor for the past two months.

Whether subconscious or not, my lack of action to mobilize my clothes from home to trashbags to donation site is significant. Reminded daily of their existence as I pass by has weighed heavily upon me. Daily I see these piles, ignore my heart urging me to act, and sweep over that “to do.” Clearly I have held tightly to the clothes, as if a lifeline was attached. What protection I must be holding to maintain this ruse might interest others fearful of detaching from the old to embrace the new. Although I have walked into my closet extensively finding little to wear, I have not grabbed anything from the floor that lays just beyond the door. Therefore, any need for any retired garment is nonexistent.

What seemed therapeutic, healing, and worthwhile, has been waylaid into a holding pattern, stationed for its next adventure, and glued to the floor until I take further action. Although it prevents me from moving forward, and weighs heavily upon my subconscious, underneath the stressful surface is a feeling connected to saying goodbye to the past, fearful of letting go. The garments sit as reminders like tombstones waiting for a peaceful burial. Daily I walk by, noticing but not actually acknowledging their presence, as if I cannot face their demise, their graduation from my life. My heart says, “let it go,” but my mind or ego holds tightly.

Without this completion, I sense my weight remains stagnant. Like the clothes upon my bedroom floor, I sit in purgatory like a stalemate between my past and future. Both holding on with grit, the tug-a-war continues. I must push the weight of the past away in order to lighten and brighten my future. My success and well being depend upon this action step. Perhaps a few tears must be shed as I bag the clothes, mourn the past for closure sake, carry the weight of the past to my car, and exit them forever from my life, relieving the beast of burden that lives within me. Cleansing the closet was a timely first step, while removal from my presence is another.

Healing emanates when the past is put to rest, no longer triggered within the present. My weight loss stalled after emptying the closet, perhaps a final plea to hold onto the past. Today is all about completions, forcing my mind to get on board with my heart. I am letting go, breaking free, moving on. Healing is just a trash bag away from freeing my soul of the past’s limitations. Once I take action momentum follows, a push past the mind’s dubious tricks to keep me stuck and in handcuffs. When I remove the metaphoric weight, the healing deepens and pounds release. Ready, Set, Go! Trash Bags, take them away!

I awaken to address the podium of steel again, seeking a number to represent my accomplishment. Yet the feelings of familiar disappointment darken the day. Although experienced before, my efforts escape visibility. I step upon cold metal expecting change, yet nothing to gain except a vision of inaccuracy, my efforts not equating with results. Though one tool beckoning beneath me, an inexact science, I give it credence to show me my worth when my value hangs in the balance elsewhere. Fool-me-once, shame on you, fool-me-twice causing torment again, shame on me. I explore life’s details searching for answers, an explanation of the number representing me today until another layer of liquid, fat, or food assembles or disappears.

My mind retorts, altering the path from peace to darkness, and a fiery hell stands before me. Yet visible results in bodily measurements, clothing sizes decreasing, and waves of energy pouring from my pores sound a different alarm. A number cannot define my unit of measure, the core that beholds my self worth. It only disempowers me if I offer it an allowance for which to spend torturing its victims. Embrace the decision to no longer visit the gates of hell that shellshock its visitors with visions of darkness, heated anger, and depression in droves during the morning occupancy. Quickly release yourself from any engagement with the devil that stands guard to ruin your day. Throw the temptress in the garbage; its use is futile at best. You need not be fooled when the outcome is dishonest, inaccurate, and foolhardy.

Should you hang onto it a tad longer, rearrange your feet, balance on one foot, and lean to one side, until the number falls in your favor. Justify the handicap you give it while awaiting the correct number to appear. The angels sing and life calls you forward for recognition of your accomplishments. Suddenly illuminated by the presence of joy, congratulatory praise, and a lightness of being, you spring off the metal contraption to the breakfast table boosted by a celebratory meal. Food rewards earned, release any need to alter edibles to healthy options. By morning after, we tender our resignation, know the devil warrants accurate results today when yesterday was mere discrepancy by the hell of a scale.

It was just about this time last year when I was rocking my highest weight, feeling miserable while spring had sprung, and my writing sat paralyzed like a distant memory unable to be retrieved, incapable of presence nor driven to extend a word to paper. I resigned myself to awareness that any inner message would be a sign for change and any encounter relinquish the old into the new. My eyes wide open, I acquired increased sensory to see what I had not seen, hear what I had not heard, and touch an essence not felt where connection had been lost. Reaching for direction, solutions, and guidance, I wanted solace, healing, and energy to pull myself from the swamp I found myself drowning in.

Later that day, a woman I miraculously met introduced me to her success and the community that brought her there. Although my entrance into her arena occurred two months later, I waited patiently with faith and hope that her avenue was my avenue. A year later, I look back smiling at ‘bumping into her.’ My destiny sealed for transformation and healing, I have answered the call for change that rang that fateful day. Now I look for signals again, having reached a new pinnacle. Although no longer depressed, I sense a stagnation occurring, not simply with weight, but with direction in several areas of my life that feel closed from opportunity. Searching for an opening, I seek answers and signs again.

Today dawns new beginnings my senses tell me. Can you find your own signs of guidance around you? Have you listened for the whispers of wisdom that seem to float in the wind? When is your awakening for change? Is it now, if you listen to the sounds of silence, the signs of rain that fall before you? What are the signs that pass through and around you each day attempting to stir within your soul? Which questions will you ask and answers will you find? Only a heartbeat away, it is ours for the taking, ours for the listening, ours for the guidance we seek encouraging our paths to journey to purpose and well being.

“I’ve got it. I’ve got it. I’ve got it. I don’t got it,” says a character in the Albert Brooks film, High Anxiety, dropping the trunk to the ground, then repeating the comical sequence. Just when I think I have a handle on how to work my lifestyle successfully, I drop the giant trunk to a symphony of, “I don’t got it.” Today was one of those days. I stayed within my normal array of foods, but felt a lack of control, a sense of urgency to eat considerably more, a desire to relieve a discomfort that my old psyche believed food could alleviate. Physically distressed by a minor surgical procedure, I circled around the discomfort searching for any alternative. Food came to the rescue like an emergency vehicle ringing its sirens, racing to my aid and expecting to save me from demise.

Although food comforts me with immediate gratification and distraction, it fuels the fire rather than douses the flames. Food battles the hurt, aims to distract the pain, but eventually causes greater emotional distress. By observing my behavior post-excessive eating, I notice the pain still exists with additional emotions awaiting their turn to be felt. My disappointment, anxiety, and bloatedness, additional ailments, plague me, while still in search of physical and now, mental relief. The ruckus from eating one’s discomfort snowballs into a morphed mess. Even with the knowledge, experience, and recognition of these steps in play while they occur, I drop the trunk anyway, waylaying into the turmoil I know well and have often overcome. “I got it. I got it. I got it. I don’t got it.”

Part of the process is to dust yourself off and rally after damage is done, rather than finishing off an ice cream sundae. Stopping the cycle in its tracks with awareness is true victory. Imperative to recognize one’s imperfection, repeal the past, and move along formidably, is to note the lessons for future action. Phone a friend, ask the audience, give yourself a 50:50 chance, or leave well enough alone by walking away with past success; find new ground to begin again immediately. No one needs to push limits when a minute later a new choice may be made. Instead learn from mistakes and make new decisions setting present and future victory into motion. Sometimes you got it, sometimes you don’t. Today, “I got it. I got it. I got it. I don’t got it.” The journey continues with “I got it” until “I don’t got it” again.