There’s a truth I’ve had to sit with, and maybe it will hit you the same way it hit me: no diet in the world can undo what the nervous system is still holding. You can measure everything you eat, drink all the water, walk every day, follow every plan with the best intentions… but if your body is still living in the shadows of fear, pressure, grief, or old survival, it will keep carrying that story in its tissues.
For the longest time, I thought healing was about discipline. I kept telling myself that if I pushed harder, behaved better, and controlled food enough, I would become the version of myself I kept imagining. But the more I tried to force the process, the more it felt like I was battling something I couldn’t see. Now I understand why.
The body is loyal in ways we don’t always appreciate. It remembers. It holds the nights your heart raced, the mornings you woke up already tired, the seasons you went through life bracing for impact. When life demanded too much, your body stepped forward and carried the weight—literally and emotionally.
So when I look at myself today, 60 kilos heavier than I once was, softer in places I never expected, I don’t just see weight anymore. I see the map of everything I survived. I see a body that held me through heartbreak, single motherhood, deep exhaustion, and the long road of reinventing myself. I see a body that didn’t abandon me when everything else felt shaky.
And yes, I’m working on losing weight. But the motivation has shifted. I’m not doing it from a place of shame or punishment anymore. I’m doing it from understanding. Because the body doesn’t respond to bullying—it responds to safety. You have to soothe it like you would a frightened child. You have to slow down. You have to create quiet moments. You have to speak kindly to yourself even when it feels strange or forced.
What surprises me is how quickly my body responds to even the smallest pockets of calm. On days when I breathe deeper, when I move gently, when I stay honest with myself instead of harsh, my body stops bracing. It softens. It releases. Those tiny windows of safety are where real change begins—not because I’m forcing it, but because my body finally stops defending itself.
This is what I believe now: healing happens first, and the weight follows. Not the other way around.
These extra kilos didn’t show up because I was careless or weak. They showed up because my body was doing everything it could to keep me intact when life became too heavy. And that truth changes how I move forward. I’m trying to thank my body more. I’m feeding what was missing instead of starving myself. I’m letting old emotions move through without judging myself for feeling them.
And slowly—very slowly—I can feel the shift happening.
The softness I carry is not a failure. It’s a story. A record of the years my body stood guard while I fought for my life from the inside out. And now that the chaos has quieted, I’m ready to write a new chapter with this same body, but with a calmer heart guiding me.
When the nervous system begins to trust that it is safe, the body can finally let go.
Maybe that’s the real work. Not the dieting, not the punishment, not the shame. The real work is teaching yourself—gently and consistently—that you’re no longer living inside the danger you once survived.
A grounded life, lived with grace… even in the body that remembered everything.