This Body Is The Magic

A Journey Through Weight, Worth, and Remembering.

I have battled my weight for years. And I mean battled.

I didn’t understand why, even when I was doing all the “right” things, I still wasn’t able to lose weight.

I took this to an extreme during my pregnancy with my son.

I struggled to eat meat. I struggled to eat anything; smells were off-putting the entire pregnancy. But my body started losing weight, and even though the midwives kept telling me I needed more protein, I looked at the number on the scale dropping… and I celebrated.

I tuned out the reality: I was losing muscle, not weight.

My body was trying to grow a baby, and I wasn’t supporting it.

My light dimmed.

And still, I saw it as a gift, because I was finally losing weight.

After I gave birth, I could eat again. Slowly but surely, the weight returned. And then it climbed even higher than before the pregnancy. I could see the inflammation in my face, my body, my skin. Eventually, I got uncomfortable enough to seek out a naturopath and dive deep into what I thought would “fix” my body.

---

I went through months of detox protocols.

I addressed my gut health, took all the supplements, and explored every red flag in my bloodwork.

I started feeling better.

My inflammation went down, and for the first time in a long time, it started to feel like my body was beginning to work properly.

But I still wasn’t losing weight.

And I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I wasn’t losing weight, I still wasn’t doing it “right.”

I even sought out shadow hypnosis to figure out what subconscious blocks I might have. What came up was painful but honest:

 I didn’t feel worthy.

It didn’t matter that I moved my body all day.

I didn’t feel worthy of rest.

I didn’t feel worthy of stillness.

And when you ignore your body’s need for rest and nervous system regulation, how can you possibly hear what it’s asking for in terms of nourishment?

My body wasn’t the problem.

I just wasn’t listening.

One of the realizations that hit me hardest during my shadow work was this:

 I didn’t want to lose weight just to “look better.”

I wanted to lose weight so I could chase my kids, hike mountains, and live fully.

But here’s the thing, I was already doing those things.

I had just convinced myself I shouldn’t need rest or recovery afterward.

That the “ideal” body wouldn’t need stillness.

But that’s who I’ve always been.

Stillness has always been part of my design.

It’s how I reset.

It’s how I heal.

It’s how I stay centered.

And that meant I had been chasing a version of myself that was never mine to begin with.

It feels wild to realize that it’s only been eight months since I stopped trying to “fix” myself and started actually supporting myself.

Now I move with intention.

I nourish with care.

I work with my lymph.

 I listen for what feels good.

 I rest.

I ground.

And I celebrate movement not as punishment, but as connection.

Last night, I gave myself full permission and went on my first solo camping trip.

When I told people what I was doing, I was met with the usual:

“Are you sure that’s safe?” “What if someone comes into your campsite?”

My sister was jealous but said she was too scared. My mom was worried. My grandma was horrified.

But I trusted me more than I feared their doubts.

Out there in the woods, I made a fire. I brewed cacao.

And I set an intention:

 To move the grief that’s been sitting in my chest.

To find joy again.

To remember who I am without the weight of everyone else’s needs.

To find my flow.

And as I danced to move the cacao through my body, something in me whispered:

 “You’re supposed to do this naked.”

So I stripped down. I danced naked by the fire with music playing.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt completely in my body: grounded, free, and alive.

I took a video to remember the moment. To celebrate what I had just claimed for myself.

And watching it back, I was hit with both:

“Wow… I’m squishier than I thought.”

“Holy shit… look at all that joy. Look at that light.”

And it clicked.

That’s how my husband sees me.

Not as a body that needs fixing, but as a light in motion.

A radiant soul in physical form.

So why don’t I always see myself that way?

Because self-love isn’t a one-time declaration.

It’s a practice. A relationship. A remembering.

---

Here’s the truth about self-love. 

You can love yourself and still notice the squish.

You can feel grateful and still grieve old versions of yourself.

You can want to lose weight and still be completely worthy without doing it.

Your body is not a before or after.

It is you.

It’s the light your soul chose to move through.

Every curve, every line, every perceived “flaw”; they’re part of your magic.

And when you learn to listen to your body’s needs instead of overriding them,

when you feed it broth and herbs and castor oil and sleep and silence, 

Everything changes.

This path I’m walking isn’t about fixing myself.

It’s about remembering who I’ve always been.

It’s about integration.

It’s about returning home to a body I spent years trying to escape.

It’s about aligning with a soul that’s been patiently waiting for me to tune in.

And this morning, after sleeping in the woods, after dancing by the fire, after doing nothing but just being, I woke up to more orders in my business than I’ve seen in weeks.

The magic is real.

The flow is here.

And it’s all unfolding because I stopped abandoning myself.

So if you’ve been waiting for the “right body” to live your life...

Let this be your invitation:

Come home to the one you’re already in.

Support it. Nourish it. Listen to it.

Let your soul be seen through it.

Magic is waiting.

You just have to tune in enough to see it.