January 23rd was the last time I put my thoughts on life into words.

Why? Because after I pushed that infamous "publish" button on my blog post, I gently closed my laptop and resorted back to assuming my usual and comforting position hovering over the toilet.

My life, as I knew it, was a mess. I felt completely out of control, as if I were swallowed up by a tornado and spit back into the land of the unknown. Okay, okay, it worked out pretty well for Dorothy and she got a great new pair of shoes out of the deal, but that just wasn't the case for me.

I fell in love with helping, coaching, and guiding other women through the pursuit of body happiness, and where was I? I felt like a failure because once again, when shit got tough, I got even tougher on myself and the only thing I knew to do was find solace in the fact that I could control my body.

It all hurt, every last bit of it. In the midst of dealing with heartbreak, the world was changing in front of my eyes, my business was on the line which would ultimately trickle down to my parents, my children and my home. 

For those of you who know me, I am a die hard problem solver. I love obstacles because the comeback is always bigger than the setback right?

These were all problems I could not solve. Not one was anything even withing my grasp.

I dove into survival mode. I worked upwards of eighteen hours a day, barely leaving my business to come home and sleep (on the couch of course because the bed was just not inviting) and I would anxiously snap at anyone who walked through that door because all I wanted was to feel and with others around I felt like I had no permission to do so. Nothing made me happier than to lock my restaurant doors, shut the lights off, sit alone and hurt.

With that being the case, I stopped caring for myself. I wasn't eating but was surviving on sugar free Redbulls and bad habits, and of course wine- a bottle at least, per night, all to myself. 

I wish I could tell you the moment when I began to heal, but I cant quite put my finger on when exactly it happened. It was a slow scarring, with me periodically picking at the scabs.

I baby stepped my way back into reality. It didn't matter how many times I heard people tell me how worthy I was for all of the riches in life or how much of an amazing job I did keeping my family business not only afloat, but thriving in a pandemic, I needed to realize that for myself.

I made a decision to be happy again.

I stopped looking at my body as the enemy and starting valuing its strength. I stopped hurting myself through food restriction and purging and started focusing on what I have spent years learning- nourishment. But nourishment for not just my physical self, but for my soul.

I started surrounding myself with mostly women, and some men, who brought the light back into my world through inspiration. I started doing things again that I hadn't done in so long, and when I tell you that the good vibes were pouring from the heavens, that's an understatement. 

I let myself feel- the good, the bad, and the real. My workouts became less for self competition and more for pure enjoyment. I stopped on my runs to take pictures of beautiful things in the world or to strike up what seemed like endless conversations with strangers. 

My intuitive eating habits started to return all on their own. I've been studying my own genetic makeup for what works well for my body for years and just like riding a bike (which I feel is bullshit by the way because my bike riding skills are sub par to say the least), I remembered how to do it.

I took comments about my body being unworthy and undesirable and started to mute them from my memory.

Although I still have worries and concerns for what my future holds, the one thing I have found again is hope.

Yesterday I held someone's face in my hands. A twelve year old girl who didn't want to come out of the house because she felt far from beautiful, and in the middle of the street, vowed to be her lifeline. 

A promise to her would never be valid if I didn't make a promise to myself as well.

I promised myself in that moment that I would always find the beauty in me. May it come from my stretch marked mom belly, my tears of vulnerable honesty, my uncontrollable laughter which is sometimes accompanied by a snort, my endless hugs and deep kisses, my ability to stay and fight as well as selflessly walk away, my arms that embrace my children or the desire to never stop believing- my beauty is always here. 

Do I regret falling back into the eating disorder life style that has been a part of my life for thirty-ish years? No, not one bit.

Today, as I stand in front of the mirror, changing from my workout (which was filled with laughter, waves, and countless "good mornings"), I am grateful that I continue to rebound, rediscover, and stand tall as a better version of me than I was before.

Remember to enjoy the little bites of life as well as the big ones and always, always, eat the chocolate cake.