Back in January when I was directing and promoting the Holistic Health Virtual Conference, I told a personal story about my own health concerns, and the quest that I was on to feel better. I promised to reveal the rest of my story. And while I've been slow to write these posts, I'm committed to sharing my story because I know that many people--with and without ADD--can benefit from hearing it.
In the last Journey to Health post, I took the time to write about how I define health and wellness. And now that the background info has been laid down, let's get into the real story.
About 4 years ago, my partner Erin and I were moving out of our apartment in New York City and into a house in the Hudson Valley. We had been together about 4 years at the time, and we were done with the city. We were ready to settle down in a big house with a big yard and lots of open space. It was a fun and exciting time. There was just one problem: I was fat. And I felt like shit.
I was never a "skinny" person. I was always a curvy girl (what do they call them, "breeding hips"?), and was on and off diets my whole life. But despite what I told myself as a teenager and a young adult, I was never "fat." I think back to a doctor I had when I was about 16. When I told her I was going on a diet, she looked me in eyes and said, "Jennifer, there's nothing wrong with you. I've seen too many young women become obsessed with dieting when they don't have a weight problem to begin with. You're fine just where you are." If only I had listened.
My unfounded weight concerns turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. It seemed like the scale climbed up a few pounds every year, despite all my diets and weight loss programs. And then there I was at 30, moving into my new house and loving my life, and being officially fat. It was no longer just in my head, it was in my body. I weighed more than I ever had in my life, and was significantly overweight.
So being both happy (with my new house and my work and my relationship) and miserable (with my weight and my energy), I just said "Fuck it!" And I ate and I ate and I ate.
And as I ate, continued to gain weight, and felt miserable, I was also having to get my medications adjusted. Having previously been on a low dose of Lexapro for anxiety, I was now on a higher dose, because the anxiety was back full-swing. And 18mg of Concerta "as needed" for ADD management was no longer helping, so it was adjusted to 36mg every day, twice a day. This quickly led to sleeping problems, which made me even more tired during the day. And all of these medications, along with the crap food I was eating, had me needing some pretty strong prescription antacid medication. I have to tell you, I feel shitty just thinking back to that time!
Fortunately, there came a time when things started to shift for me. Although I was actually born and raised in the Hudson Valley, we now live in a different county than where I grew up. And this county is, well, a little alternative. Woodstock is only a short drive away, and many people around here share a liberal, hippie-like attitude. It suits me well. And it began to rub off on me pretty quickly.
About 6 months after our move, I was exposed to the concept of "real food." Real food is quite simply unprocessed food. It's fresh, whole fruit and vegetables, natural meat and fat, whole grains, and wholesome dairy. The best real food is organic and local. Real food, quite simply, is what our great grandparents used to eat. Long before there were packages and preservatives and high fructose corn syrup, our ancestors ate the foods grown and raised by themselves and their neighbors. And they were healthier, had more energy, and were arguably much happier than we are today.
The concept of "real food" appealed to me, especially because I'm now surrounded by organic vegetable farms, bountiful orchards, and serene animal farms. It was easy for me to begin incorporating real food into my diet. (And at this point, when I say "diet," I mean "what I eat" and not "what I restrict.") I would snack on an apple from a local orchard because it tasted really good! I would buy a steak from a local farmer because it was grass-fed and antibiotic-free. I would eat a salad made with fresh, local vegetables and think about how many vitamins were in it and how good it was for my body!
And when I first began adding real food into my diet, I did not take processed food out of it. I was still eating out a lot, and did go out for fast food quite a bit. (Damn you, Taco Bell!) I was also eating lots of ice cream. (The ice cream stands were fresh and local!) But for once, I was adding healthy things into my life without restricting anything. It was easy to do, and I enjoyed it.
Little by little, my diet started to shift. I soon noticed that I was eating about 30% real food, and feeling better. I had more energy, which I would measure by how tired I was when we took the dogs hiking. Before real food, I needed a nap after a 1-hour hike. After real food, I could come home from that hike and have enough energy to cook dinner!
Then, things really started to get better when I saw a hippie-style nutrition counselor who encouraged me to add some real fat into my diet. Like most children on the 80s, I grew up thinking that fat was the enemy! Fat was what made you fat! But when I began allowing myself more fat, mostly in the form of dairy and local farm eggs, my mood improved tremendously. It wasn't long before I was buying fresh, raw milk, butter, yogurt, and cheese from local farms. (And yes, I said "raw milk." Do the research, unpasteurized milk is much healthier that the stuff in the supermarket.)
Although I was still on lots of prescription meds, I was still fat, and I still didn't feel like myself, I was starting to feel better. My mood and energy kept improving, and the scale slowly started to drop. I knew I was on the right path.
Real food alone wasn't going to heal me, though. And things would get worse before they got better. More to come...
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