Patience, Consistency and the Power of being Present

Patience, Consistency, and the Power of Being Present

Patience has been on my mind lately, probably because it’s so hard to come by. We want results now: to feel better, get stronger, move forward, figure things out. And when progress doesn’t show up right away, it’s easy to get frustrated and wonder if we’re doing something wrong. Trust me, I’ve been there. I still am sometimes.

As we move through midlife, our bodies change. We don’t always look or feel the way we used to, and making peace with that isn’t easy. It has been a big part of my own journey. I’m not always comfortable with being uncomfortable, but I’ve learned that feeling doesn’t last forever, and knowing that helps me be okay with where I am.

Here’s what I’m learning: accepting my body doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting to feel strong, capable, and comfortable in my own skin. It means meeting myself where I am today, rather than measuring myself against who I used to be or who I think I should be by now. I’ve also come to see that feeling strong requires consistency. The gym, my physical therapy, stretching, making room for movement: none of it is about a certain look or turning back the clock. It’s about caring for myself and building a life that supports how I want to feel as I get older.

That kind of consistency doesn’t happen overnight. It grows out of routines that work for us and settle into our lives. Some days that means showing up when motivation is nowhere to be found. Other days it means listening when my body says it needs rest. It isn’t about doing it all perfectly. It’s about finding a rhythm that feels sustainable and coming back to it when life gets messy.

This goes well beyond movement. How we nourish ourselves, manage stress, make time for the people we love, and care for our emotional well-being all benefit from small, consistent choices. When life gets especially busy, I try to remind myself to be present. It’s easy to get so caught up in what comes next that we forget to notice how we feel right now. A few intentional breaths or a brief pause can help us figure out what we actually need.

Patience allows us to accept that change takes time. Consistency carries us through while that change unfolds. Neither requires perfection, and neither asks us to push beyond what feels right. So perhaps the question isn’t How quickly can I get where I want to be? but What can I do today to care for the body I have and support the life I want to live?

We don’t have to rush, compare, or constantly strive to become a better version of ourselves. We can begin by accepting where we are, building routines that nurture us, and trusting that the small things we do consistently matter.

One moment at a time. One day at a time. That, too, is progress.

Vacation

Getting Back on Track- Not Yet!

I’m on vacation. And I’m doing things a little differently. For starters, I’m sleeping late. I’m not exercising like I normally do. I’m eating potatoes and pasta. I’m lingering over meals and enjoying the view. I’m trying foods I might not normally eat at home, and I’m letting food be part of the experience rather than something I need to think too much about. And you know what? I’m okay with it. Actually, I’m really enjoying it.

I’m sharing this because I know how difficult it can be to let go of our routines, even temporarily, and to trust ourselves when things look a little different. I understand that struggle because I experience it too.

I think what I’m enjoying most isn’t the fact that I’m “breaking” my usual habits. It’s that I’m somewhere new, and I want to experience it. There are new foods to try, a different culture to discover, and a different rhythm to my day. I don’t want to be so focused on doing everything the way I do it at home that I miss the experience of being away.

For a long time, it’s easy to believe that our routines are what keep us on track. Exercise, eating well, getting enough sleep. These are all the things we know make us feel good. And they are important. But I’m realizing that the real goal isn’t to become so attached to those routines that we can’t step away from them. The goal is to build a life where we can trust ourselves when we do.

I’m not going to pretend I’m completely comfortable with everything being different. I’m not. But I’m learning that it’s okay to be out of my comfort zone. I can walk because I want to explore somewhere, rather than because I’m trying to get my steps in. I can have a day where movement looks completely different. None of this means I’ve lost my habits. They’re still there.

When I get home, I’ll return to the routines that make me feel good. But I won’t be doing those things because I need to make up for this week.

Maybe there isn’t anything to “get back on track” from. Maybe there is no track. There’s just life.

Sometimes life has routines and structure. Sometimes it has spontaneity, long lunches, and foods you didn’t plan to eat. Sometimes you’re at home doing the things that make you feel good, and sometimes you’re somewhere completely different, taking in a new culture, a new experience.

I want room for both.

My friends and family sometimes tell me I’m very “disciplined,” but I’ve been thinking about that differently too. Maybe what looks like discipline from the outside is really just that I’ve found things I genuinely enjoy. I like having routines. But I also really like discovering new things. And I don’t want my healthy habits to become “rules” that stop me from enjoying life.

One little FYI: I’m taking next week off from the blog because I’m going to keep enjoying some time away. 😊 I’ll be back soon, probably happily back to my normal routines, with a few more stories, foods, and experiences to share.

Time for a Cleaning

I've decided it's time to do something bold. Both of my kids have moved into their own apartments, which means I've entered a new phase of life: cleaning out their rooms. Apparently empty nesting comes with a side order of organizing.

I started with my son's childhood room and quickly realized it would take more than an afternoon. Knickknacks, school papers, old projects, and my personal favorite, Lego instructions. Because clearly, he'll need those again.

I stood in the middle of the room thinking, where do I even begin? So I did what any emotionally healthy person would do. I called a friend. Guess what? She was cleaning out her closet. We laughed about how hard it is to let go. I can't remember what my husband told me this morning, but I vividly remember the paper airplane my son made when he was six. Maybe we don't hold onto things. We hold onto the stories attached to them.

Later I sat around the dining table with friends I've known for thirty years, laughing about weddings, baby namings, mitzvahs, graduations. At one point one of them asked how she looked. I understood. I do the same thing. I watch celebrities with their fabulous hair and clothes and, airbrushing aside, feel envious. I'm learning to be comfortable in my own skin, to appreciate my body rather than constantly trying to change it. But I still want to look good. I want to put on an outfit and think, okay, I look pretty good today.

I can hold both truths. I can accept myself and want to feel beautiful. I can let go of perfection without letting go of pleasure. That's what intuitive eating has taught me, too. I don't have to follow every rule I've been handed about food or my body. I can listen, get curious, and decide what feels right for me now.

What if letting go isn't about becoming less, but about carrying less? Less judgment. Less should. Less comparison. Less of the stories that no longer fit. I'm trying to pack lighter when I travel, and maybe I'm learning to pack lighter in life, too. Some things can go. Some things can stay. And some things, like those Lego instructions, may sit in a pile for another twenty years while I decide.

Maybe this is the bold thing I'm ready to do: make room. Not to start over, but to make space for who I am now and whoever I'm still becoming.

I know this isn't always easy. Sometimes we need help sorting through the piles, not just the ones in our closets but the ones in our heads and hearts. That's often the work I do with clients: slowing down, getting curious about what's no longer serving you, making room for a life that feels more like you. If you're in a season of transition, you don't have to sort through it alone.

As for me? I'm going back to my son's room. There are still Lego instructions waiting.

Reflections

I am sitting at my desk looking outside on this sunny, blue-sky day. It is September 11, 2026, and it is also Erev Rosh Hashanah, the eve of the Jewish New Year.

There is a lot of energy around me. The streets are busy. The stores are busy. There is construction happening in a neighboring apartment. And in the background, my television is broadcasting the 9/11 memorial service. I am listening as the names of the victims are read, one by one.

And I am taking a pause.

This year, Rosh Hashanah arrives at the same time as we remember September 11th. One is a time of renewal and beginning again; the other is a day of remembering something we can never forget. Somehow, for me, today they have become connected, not because they are the same, but because both invite me to stop and notice what really matters.

Rosh Hashanah is a time to look back at the year that has passed, where I have been, who I have been, and perhaps where I want to go next. Not to judge myself or list everything I need to fix, but simply to notice.

September 11th brings a different kind of reflection. Every year the memories return. The images, the stories, the disbelief. Living in New York, it is impossible not to feel the weight of that day.

And this year, thinking about both remembrance and renewal, I find myself reflecting on something much closer to home: the comfort of family and friends.

Here is where my mind goes, not to escape the enormity of my feelings but to make some sense of them. When I get interested in something, I go all in. Lately, for some reason, that something has been bath towels. Yes, towels! Reading reviews, comparing fabrics, ordering, returning, trying to find the right one. It turns out this is not as simple as it sounds: soft but absorbent, substantial but not so heavy it takes forever to dry, big enough to wrap myself in but not so enormous I disappear inside it.

Is there a metaphor here? Maybe what I am really looking for is the perfect amount of comfort. To be held, but not too tightly. To feel supported, but not smothered. To have enough, but not too much. To feel safe without feeling confined. I wonder if that's what a lot of us are quietly looking for.

As I get older, the things that bring me the greatest sense of security aren't the things I once thought they would be. It isn't having everything figured out. It's knowing who I can call. Sitting around a table with people I love. Laughing about something that isn't particularly funny to anyone else. A familiar voice, a hug, a shared history, people who remember who I was and still make room for who I am becoming.

There is so much uncertainty in life, and September 11th is one of the most powerful reminders of that. So today I'm just trying to notice the people beside me, and the ordinary moments that don't feel extraordinary until you realize how precious they are. No resolutions, just gratitude, for the people who surround us, the memories we carry, and the comfort of knowing we don't have to navigate any of it alone.

And if you're reading this today and feeling any of it, the weight, the reflection, the uncertainty, please know you're not navigating it alone either. I'm here. Whatever this day holds for you, whatever this year asks of you, my door is open. Reach out anytime.

WHY ARE WE ALWAYS TRYING TO IMPROVE OURSELVES

Lately, I’ve been wondering why I am always trying to improve myself.

I know better. I really do.

I’ve spent years helping people become more accepting of themselves, their bodies, their relationships with food, and the parts of themselves they wish they could change. I talk about self-compassion, mindfulness, slowing down, listening to your body, and letting go of the idea that we need to constantly fix ourselves.

And yet, I still catch myself doing it.

I’ll wake up and think about what I should be doing differently. Maybe I should exercise more. Eat a little better. Sleep more. Be more productive. Spend less time on my phone. Get more organized. Be more patient. Write more. Read more.

The list can go on forever.

And sometimes I laugh at the irony. After all these years of doing this work, I can still fall into the very same trap I encourage others to step away from.

But maybe that is exactly why I want to talk about it.

Because I have a feeling I’m not the only one.

We don’t always talk openly about the quiet ways we believe we should be better.

We might not call it self-criticism. We call it motivation. We call it wellness. We call it goals. We call it wanting to be our “best selves.”

But underneath it all can be a very subtle message: Who you are right now isn't quite enough.

I’ve noticed this especially as I’ve gotten older. There can be this strange pressure to manage aging, to do everything “right,” to take care of your body perfectly, to maintain your energy, your strength, your appearance, your health. There is always another thing I could be doing.

And some days, I find myself wondering: When do I get to just be?

I am not against growth. I don’t want to stop learning or changing. I want to keep evolving. I want to be curious about myself and open to what life teaches me.

But I’m beginning to see that growth and self-improvement aren't always the same thing.

Growth can come from curiosity.

Self-improvement can come from criticism.

Growth says, I wonder what I might discover.

Self-improvement can whisper, You should be doing better by now.

There is a difference.

Maybe this is why I’ve been thinking so much about the pressure we put on ourselves to always have something to work on.

What if we stopped treating ourselves like a project?

What if, instead of asking, What do I need to improve? We make the statement, I am actually doing okay.

What if I could have a messy morning, stay in bed longer, skip the workout, eat the cookie, change my mind, feel impatient, forget something, or simply do nothing. 

Maybe there are parts of me that don’t need improving.

Maybe they just need acceptance.

I suspect many of us are carrying these same private struggles, the ones we don't necessarily post about or talk about at dinner. The worry that we aren't doing enough. The feeling that everyone else seems to have it figured out. The quiet belief that if we could just get a little more disciplined, organized, healthy, productive, or together, we would finally feel at peace.

But what if peace doesn't come from becoming better?

What if it comes from realizing that we were never broken in the first place?

That feels like something worth working on.

You Don't Have to Get Ready for September

Don't you think this time of August has a particular feeling? Summer is winding down, school is starting, and suddenly everyone is talking about "getting back on track." There's a pressure to start fresh in September: to get organized, get serious about exercise, "eat better," become a more productive version of ourselves simply because the calendar says so.

But what if September didn't require a reset? What if we just carried the good things from summer forward?

Maybe we don't need another reset. Maybe we need to listen. What did summer teach us? What felt good? What gave us energy? What are we ready to leave behind?

We're so quick to jump into the next season and decide what needs to change: a new hairstyle, a new wardrobe, purging my bathroom shelves of makeup and skincare, my closet. Out with the old, begin anew. But what if we paused long enough to notice what we've already learned?

Instead of asking "What do I need to change?" try asking "What do I want to carry forward?" I'm learning there's a difference between changing yourself because you don't think you're enough, and taking care of yourself because it feels good to feel good. That's the real shift, not fixing, but carrying forward what already works.

Maybe it's slower mornings. More walks. Spontaneous dinners. Better boundaries. Coffee outside. Saying yes to what brings you joy and no to what doesn't. Maybe it's less food noise, or realizing you actually like moving your body when it's not a punishment.

You don't have to come back from summer "new and improved." You can come back as yourself just a little more aware of what feels good, what matters, what you want your life to feel like.

So before you make your September list, ask yourself: what do I want to carry forward? Not with changing who you are, but with listening more closely to what you already know.

If you're feeling that pressure to "get it together" around food, your body, exercise, or everything you think you should be doing, this is the work I love helping people navigate.

You don't have to do it perfectly. You don't have to start over. You can start by listening.

Being Present

It was a rainy evening. We had just finished dinner, and I was so happy to have a quiet moment on the couch, thinking about what to write for this week’s post. My husband was watching golf, and then I heard the announcer say two simple words as he described a golfer at play: “Be present.”

And just like that, I knew what I wanted to write about.

Because lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about being present.

I see the kids heading back to school. YES, I know the days are passing by faster than I am willing to loosen my grip. I know the calendar says August, which means summer is slowly winding down. Even the air feels a little different in the morning.

The other evening, while grilling dinner, my daughter and I watched a pack of geese fly overhead. For a moment, we both felt a little sad. Somehow, their flight felt like a sign that summer was coming to an end.

And really, do the supermarkets have to start displaying Halloween items?

I mean, can we please just stay here for a minute?

It seems like we are always being encouraged to move on to the next thing before we’ve had a chance to fully experience the thing we’re already in. The minute one season begins, we start anticipating the next. We rush through summer thinking about fall, spend fall thinking about the holidays, and before we know it, we’re making plans for the new year.

And somewhere in all that looking ahead, we can miss where we actually are.

I’ve noticed this tendency in myself. I start thinking about what I still want to do before summer is over, the places I haven’t been, the people I haven’t seen, the things I thought I would accomplish.

Suddenly, summer starts to feel like another to-do list.

And isn’t that funny? A season that is supposed to feel carefree can become something we feel we need to get right.

We are constantly told to make the most of everything. Make the most of your vacation. Your weekend. Your health. Your time.

But what if we don’t have to make the most of every season?

What if we just have to be in it?

Looking back, some of my summer days have been full and wonderful. Others have been completely ordinary. There have been days I’ve been out and about and days I’ve stayed home. Days I’ve wanted to be social and days when I’ve wanted nothing more than a quiet day.

None of those days need to justify themselves.

Maybe that’s part of what intuitive living has taught me. We don’t always have to ask what we should be doing. We can pause long enough to notice what we actually want, what we need, and what feels right in the moment.

Maybe that applies to time, too.

We don’t have to squeeze every last bit of summer out of these remaining weeks. We don’t need to create more memories simply because the calendar tells us there aren’t many days left.

We can let some days be slow. We can change our plans. We can do nothing.

We can enjoy what is here without worrying about how quickly it is disappearing.

Because summer will end. Fall will come. And yes, the Halloween candy will somehow find its way onto the shelves whether we are ready for it or not.

But we don’t have to rush there.

Maybe making the most of a season isn’t about doing everything we can before it ends.

Maybe it’s simply about noticing that we’re still in it, and allowing ourselves to be present for it.

A project

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my “to-do” list and how easy it is for that list to become more than just things I need to accomplish. Somewhere along the way, it can become a list of all the ways I think I should be doing better, too.

We are constantly being told there is something we could be doing better. Eat better. Exercise more. Sleep longer. Drink more water. Take the right supplements. Fix our habits. Change our mindset. Become more productive. Become more mindful. Become our “best selves.”

Even wellness, which is supposed to help us feel better, can sometimes become another list of things we need to work on.

And I wonder: What if you’re not a project?

What if you don’t need to constantly be fixing, improving, optimizing, or reinventing yourself?

This doesn’t mean we stop growing or stop caring about our health. It simply means that perhaps growth doesn’t always have to look like change.

Sometimes growth looks like acceptance.

It can look like waking up and noticing that your body feels different than it did five or ten years ago and choosing curiosity instead of criticism.

It can look like eating lunch when you’re hungry without analyzing whether it was the “right” choice.

It can mean moving your body because it feels good rather than because you’re trying to make your body look different. Resting without convincing yourself you’ve earned it. Recognizing that you’re tired and allowing yourself to slow down instead of pushing through simply because you think you should.

And sometimes it means letting something be good enough.

I think we can become so accustomed to self-improvement that we forget to simply experience our lives. There is always another goal. Another habit. Another routine. Another thing to read, buy, track, measure, or change.

But what if, underneath all of that, you are already enough?

Maybe the work isn’t always becoming someone new. Maybe sometimes the work is becoming more comfortable with who you already are.

I still want to learn, grow, move, explore, and take care of myself. But I’m trying to notice when those things come from genuine curiosity and when they come from the belief that I am somehow not quite there yet.

There is a difference.

One feels expansive. The other feels exhausting.

Intuitive living, for me, has never been about finding the perfect way to eat, move, think, or live. It’s about listening. Paying attention. Becoming curious about what I need rather than automatically following someone else’s rules.

Perhaps that is the deeper work: learning to trust ourselves enough to know that we don’t have to constantly be a work in progress.

Maybe you can want to change something without believing you need to be changed. Maybe you can care about your health without making your body a problem to solve. Maybe you can have goals without turning your entire life into a self-improvement project.

So this week, I’m asking myself, and maybe you can ask yourself too:

What if I’m not a project?

What if there is nothing I need to fix today?

What if I simply pause, take a breath, and remember that I am already here?

And maybe, for today, being here is enough.

If this idea resonates with you and you’re finding yourself caught in the cycle of always trying to do more, fix more, or be more, I’d love to hear from you. Sometimes having a space to slow down, listen, and make sense of what you’re experiencing can be the beginning of something meaningful. If you’d like to connect, you can reach me here at rachel@livehealthynyc.com

What Am I Practicing?

The other day, in my moment of self-created chaos, I caught myself rushing. Not because I had somewhere important to be, but because I had gotten into the habit of moving quickly. I was trying to get out of the house, the dog needed to go out, the construction in the apartment above me was driving me crazy, my fancy espresso machine wasn't grinding the beans, I was making an utter mess. And I was already thinking about the weekend.

And I hadn't even had my coffee!

Ever have this kind of start to your day? My body was acting as if there were an emergency. It made me stop and ask myself a simple question:

What am I practicing?

We usually think of practice as something intentional. We practice yoga, a musical instrument, a golf swing, or meditation because we hope to improve over time.

But we're always practicing something, whether we realize it or not.

Every time I rush through my day, I'm practicing rushing. Every time I criticize my body, I'm practicing self-criticism. Every time I instinctively reach for my phone during a quiet moment, I'm practicing distraction. Every time I compare myself to someone else's life, hair, body, or career, I'm practicing comparison. The more we repeat these habits, the more automatic they become. Our brains get efficient at whatever we ask them to do, even when what we're practicing isn't serving us.

I think that's one reason intuitive eating can feel so difficult in the beginning. We've spent years practicing ignoring our hunger, questioning our fullness, labeling foods as "good" or "bad," and believing someone else knows our bodies better than we do. These habits don't disappear overnight. They're practices we've repeated again and again.

But here's the good news: we can practice something different.

We can practice noticing before reacting. We can ask, "What do I need right now?" We can practice eating without guilt and trusting that our bodies are capable of communicating with us when we're willing to listen.

And this extends far beyond food.

We can practice presence by looking up from our phones and noticing the sky. We can practice curiosity instead of judgment when difficult emotions show up. We can practice kindness by speaking to ourselves the way we'd speak to someone we love. We can practice trusting our bodies instead of trying to control them. We can practice listening instead of immediately trying to fix every uncomfortable feeling.

None of this requires perfection. That's the beauty of practice. No one expects perfection when learning a new skill. We expect mistakes. We expect progress one repetition at a time.

Maybe we can offer ourselves that same grace. Instead of asking, "Why am I still struggling?" we could ask, "What have I been practicing?"

Every small choice becomes another repetition. Every pause before reacting is another opportunity to practice something that supports the life we actually want to live.

I still catch myself rushing. I still notice comparison creeping in. And I still have moments when I want to fix instead of simply listen. But now I can recognize those moments, and hopefully choose a different practice.

So today, instead of asking yourself whether you're doing enough, eating perfectly, or getting everything right, try asking a different question:

What am I practicing?

The answer may tell you far more than you expect.

And if it's not the practice you want, remember: every new moment is another chance to begin again.

Rushing

The other morning, I caught myself thinking, I can't believe it's August.

For a moment, I felt disappointed. Summer seemed to have flown by, and my mind was already jumping ahead to September. I started thinking about everything I hadn't done yet; the places I still wanted to visit, the people I meant to see, the projects I wanted to finish.

Then I stopped myself.

Why was I already leaving a season I was still living in?

It made me wonder how often we do this, not just with summer, but with life. We rush through breakfast while thinking about lunch. We hurry through Monday waiting for Friday. We count down to vacations while missing the ordinary moments that make up our days. We tell ourselves we'll slow down "after this week" or "when things settle down." But somehow, there's always another season waiting for us.

I see this often in my work with intuitive eating. So many people want to get to the finish line. They want to stop thinking about food, trust their bodies, and finally feel at peace. Learning to listen to your body is a lot like learning to appreciate summer. The more we rush through it, the more we miss what was there all along: a satisfying meal, a deep breath, a walk before the day gets too hot, coffee on the porch, an unexpected conversation with a friend, or simply noticing your body telling you it's had enough or that it needs a little more.

These moments don't ask us to do more. They ask us to notice more.

Our culture celebrates productivity and speed. We're praised for multitasking, planning ahead, and staying busy. But being busy doesn't always mean we're living fully. Sometimes the richest parts of life happen when nothing remarkable is happening at all.

I've been practicing this myself.  I am trying hard to become less interested in racing toward what's next and more interested in being present for what's here. Not because I've mastered it, I certainly haven't! But because every time I slow down, I discover something I would have otherwise missed. Yesterday, for the first time, I noticed the tree on my block that I pass by every day. Something made me stop in my tracks as I saw for the first time how it has beautiful flowers all throughout the trunk itself. Maybe that's what intuitive living is really about. Not just trusting our hunger and fullness, but trusting the pace of our own lives.

This week, instead of asking yourself what's next, try asking, What's here? What conversation deserves your full attention? What meal could you truly savor? What sunrise, breeze, laugh, or quiet moment is waiting for you before the season changes again?

Summer will end, just as every season does. But before we rush toward what's next, let's not miss the one we're already living.

If you're finding it difficult to quiet the noise, trust your body, or simply be more present in your own life, I'd love to help. Together we can slow things down, reconnect with what matters most, and create a way of living that feels less rushed and more like you.

After all, life isn't something we're trying to get through. It's something we're meant to experience, one season, one meal, and one moment at a time.

Protein Powder

I never thought I'd be writing about protein powder. Years ago, I didn't even know what it was. Following health trends simply because they're trending has never been my style. I've never believed there's one magic food that everyone needs. My philosophy has always been simple: eat real food, listen to your body, and leave the food rules behind.

That hasn't changed.

But what has changed... is me.

Over the past few years, my body has been through a lot. Menopause. Back surgery. Months of physical therapy. Learning how to move again. Rebuilding both physical and mental strength. My mantra during this time became STRONG.

These experiences have taught me something I remind my clients of all the time: our bodies are always changing. And if we're truly practicing intuitive eating, we have to be willing to listen when those needs change.

For me, one of those changes was realizing I probably wasn't eating enough protein. Not because I was trying to lose weight. Not because I wanted bigger muscles. Simply because I wanted to feel stronger.

As I returned to the gym after surgery, I noticed how important recovery became. My workouts weren't about pushing harder anymore. They were about rebuilding confidence in my body. I wanted to protect my bones, maintain muscle, and have enough energy to enjoy my day. While protein had become the latest buzzword, what really caught my attention was hearing the same message from both my doctors and my physical therapist: as we recover and as we age, getting enough protein matters.

Like many women, I thought I was eating enough. But when I paid closer attention, not by counting every gram (I'm not a numbers person), but by honestly looking at my meals, I realized there were days when I wasn't even close.

One of the things I love most about intuitive eating is that it gives us permission to change our minds as our bodies change. That's when protein powder entered the picture. Not as a replacement for meals. Definitely not as a diet. And certainly not because it was all over my social media feed. It simply became another tool. And I have to admit, I really do love all the different flavors.

Some mornings after the gym, I blend a scoop into a smoothie, and it helps bridge the gap until my next meal. Other days, when life gets busy and lunch is delayed, I'm so glad I had it. It's simply practical. And honestly, that's what I appreciate most about it.

One of the greatest gifts intuitive eating has given me is freedom from perfection. I simply want to nourish my body in a way that feels realistic and sustainable. And for me, protein powder has become one of the tools that helps me do that.

I still believe whole foods come first. Eggs, fish, chicken, beans, tofu, Greek yogurt, cottage cheese, nuts, and seeds all offer so much more than protein alone. They provide fiber, vitamins, minerals, and the satisfaction that comes from eating a real meal.

But life isn't perfect. Sometimes I need convenience without guilt. Sometimes I need support instead of another rule. And that's exactly what a supplement is meant to be.

One thing I've learned through menopause, surgery, and simply getting older is that listening to our bodies sometimes means letting go of old beliefs. What worked for me at 35 isn't necessarily what works at 58. That's not failure. That's wisdom. Your body may not be asking for protein powder. It may be asking for more rest, more movement, more joy, or simply more nourishment. The beauty of intuitive eating is that there isn't one right answer. There is only the practice of listening. And sometimes, really listening is the healthiest thing we can do.

Whatever your body is asking for today, I hope you'll trust yourself enough to listen.

Loud Noise

When the Noise Gets Loud, Listen to Yourself

The news this past week has been nothing but scary. I am listening to my local reporters tell me to stay inside because the air quality is dangerous from the Canadian forest fires and to stop eating salads because of a cyclospora outbreak, a parasite linked to contaminated fresh produce in several states.

Am I letting all the noise take over?

No.

That doesn't mean I ignore the information. I pay attention. I wash my fruits and veggies carefully. I may choose where I buy it a little more thoughtfully. If the air quality is poor, I move my exercise indoors or shorten my time outside. Being informed is different from being overwhelmed by every headline.

But it did get me thinking about how easy it is to let outside noise drown out our own inner wisdom when it comes to our health.

For years, so many of us have been taught that there is always something to worry about when it comes to food. One week we hear that eggs are bad. The next week they're good. Coffee is unhealthy until it's suddenly protective. Carbs are the enemy until someone tells us we need more whole grains. Social media doesn't help. Every scroll seems to introduce another ingredient we should eliminate or another "healthy" food we should suddenly question. It can become exhausting.

One of the greatest gifts intuitive eating has given me is the ability to pause before reacting. Instead of asking, What should I worry about now? I ask, What information is actually useful to me? There's a difference.

The noise is loud. Wisdom is quiet. The noise tells us to throw everything away, to avoid entire food groups, to never trust our bodies. Wisdom reminds us that our bodies are incredibly resilient. It reminds us that one meal, one news story, or one social media post doesn't define our health. And the same is true beyond food.

We are constantly surrounded by messages competing for our attention. The economy. The weather. Our bodies. Aging. Politics. Disease. While many of these concerns are real, living with constant mental noise takes a toll. It affects our sleep, our digestion, our relationships, and yes, even our relationship with food. Intuitive living isn't about pretending difficult things don't exist. It's about responding instead of reacting. It's learning to gather information without allowing every headline or opinion to dictate how we live. That doesn't mean being careless. It means being thoughtful. It means trusting yourself enough to make reasonable decisions without allowing outside noise to become the loudest voice in the room.

As I sat eating my salad this week, I smiled and I simply enjoyed my lunch, grateful for fresh food and recognizing that living well has never been about eliminating every possible risk. Life simply doesn't work that way. Health isn't built on perfection or certainty. It's built on consistency, flexibility, connection, movement, nourishment, and self-trust.

The headlines will change next week. They always do. If you've noticed that all the noise has started making your decisions for you, whether around food, your health, or simply living your life, know that you're not alone. It can be incredibly difficult to know which voices to trust when there is so much conflicting information coming at us every day. My hope is that you learn to trust one voice a little more than all the others: your own. And if you've lost touch with that voice, that's okay too. Sometimes we all need a little guidance finding our way back. Learning to trust yourself again is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself, and it's a journey you don't have to take alone.

Healthy Summer Tips

Savor Summer's Harvest—Safely

I love summer time for the fresh fruits and vegetables. People have stopped me and asked what they should eat given new reports of a widespread Cyclospora outbreak, a parasite that has been linked to contaminated fresh produce in several states. Diarrhea, stomach cramps, nausea, and fatigue are all what has been reported. This is definitely not something I want to get! But, if you listen to our health officials, while they continue investigating the source, they are not recommending that people avoid fruits and vegetables altogether. Instead, they encourage us to practice good food safety while continuing to enjoy these incredibly nourishing foods. One of the greatest gifts of intuitive eating is learning to trust our bodies while also respecting them. That means nourishing ourselves with the abundance that summer offers without letting fear take over.

For me, summer eating has never been about following a "beach body" diet. It's about taking advantage of foods that are at their seasonal best. I love the perfectly ripe tomatoes and the juicy flavorful peaches. I love making a colorful salad filled with local vegetables. These foods nourish not only our bodies but also our senses.

That said, this is also a good reminder that healthy eating isn't just about what we eat, it's also about how we care for our food.

A few simple habits can go a long way:

• Wash your hands before preparing meals.

• Rinse all fruits and vegetables thoroughly under cool running water, even those with peels you don't eat, like melons.

• Use a clean produce brush for firm vegetables such as cucumbers or potatoes.

• Keep washed produce separate from raw meat, poultry, and seafood to avoid cross-contamination.

• Refrigerate cut fruits and vegetables promptly.

These aren't restrictive rules. They're simple acts of self-care.

I also encourage clients not to let scary headlines push them back toward food fear. Diet culture has spent years teaching us to distrust food. Intuitive eating teaches us something very different: gather information, make thoughtful choices, and move forward without anxiety.

No food carries a guarantee. There are occasional recalls involving lettuce, berries, eggs, peanut butter, and even frozen foods. The goal isn't to eliminate risk completely, that's impossible. The goal is to stay informed, practice reasonable precautions, and continue eating a varied, nourishing diet.

Summer is far too beautiful to spend worrying about every bite. So, continue to visit the farmers' market. Fill your plate with colorful produce. Enjoy watermelon on the beach, berries with breakfast, grilled vegetables at dinner, and peaches for dessert. Let food remain a source of pleasure, nourishment, and connection.

Healthy eating has always been about balance, not perfection. This summer, let both guide your choices. Enjoy the season, respect your food, and trust that small, mindful habits can help keep both your body and your peace of mind healthy.

The Three B's

The other morning, I caught myself rushing through my day before it had even begun.

My coffee was brewing, I was unloading my dishwasher while at the same time folding my laundry, checking my phone, and mentally making lists of everything I wanted to accomplish. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m! 

This was unsettling as I had skipped over the quiet moments that I usually treasure.

I stopped. I sat down. It made me wonder how often we confuse movement with progress.

And I wrote down on a piece of paper that I keep my my desk these three simple words: balance, breathing, and being.

“Balance” isn't something I believe we achieve once and then hold onto forever. It's more like standing on one foot. We wobble. We adjust. We lean too far in one direction, notice it, and with effort, we find our way back.

Some days balance means exercising and making a home cooked meal. Other days it means canceling plans, ordering takeout, and laying down for a bit.

For so many years, I thought balance meant eating perfectly, exercising consistently, and managing every responsibility with ease.

Now I see balance very differently. It's allowing life to ebb and flow without believing we've failed every time things feel a little off.

“Breathing” has become my favorite way to return to that place.

When I notice myself feeling overwhelmed, anxious, or disconnected, I don't always need another strategy. Often, I simply need one slow breath and then a few more.

Breathing reminds us that our bodies already know how to care for us. It grounds our nervous system, quiets the mental chatter, and brings us back to the only place we can actually live, the present moment.

It's amazing how one intentional breath can interrupt a spiral of worry or self-criticism.

And then there's “Being”.

This may be the hardest one of all. I listened to my daughter describe her friend. She said “she gets it all done, she’s a go-getter”. We're taught to measure ourselves by how productive we are. We celebrate doing, achieving, fixing, and improving. But somewhere along the way, many of us forget how to “simply be”. To sit outside without reaching for our phones.To enjoy a meal without multitasking. To spend time with people we love without thinking about what's next. To appreciate our bodies for carrying us through another day instead of wishing to change.

Being doesn't mean giving up on growth. It means recognizing that we are worthy even while we're still growing. Intuitive eating has taught me that this is true not only with food but with life itself. We don't have to micromanage every bite, every workout, every emotion, or every moment to feel good. Sometimes, the healthiest thing we can do is breathe deeply, trust ourselves, and remember that balance is not in perfection.

This week, I invite you to notice your own three Bs. Where could you create a little more balance? When could you pause for one intentional breath? And how might your day change if you gave yourself permission to simply be?

You may find that everything you've been searching for isn't something you have to chase. It may already be waiting for you in the next breath.

I Need a Moment

Staying Grounded During the Busy Summer Holiday Season

The other day, my girlfriend and I were talking about summer, and we both laughed when we realized we felt exactly the same way: we love it... and it wears us out.

There's something about summer holidays that holds both joy and exhaustion at once. Whether it's the Fourth of July, long weekends at the beach, family barbecues, vacations, or simply trying to soak up every bit of sunshine, summer has a way of accelerating everything. Calendars fill. Routines fall away. Bedtimes shift later. Meals become spontaneous. Before long, we've moved from one gathering to the next without pausing to check in with ourselves.

I used to think feeling "off" after a holiday meant I'd eaten the wrong things or fallen out of a healthy routine.

Now I know better.

More often than not, what I need isn't a “cleanse” or a reset. I simply need to feel grounded again.

Grounding doesn't have to be complicated. It's usually found in the smallest moments. For me, that looks like waking up a little earlier to enjoy my coffee before the house stirs. Taking a walk before the day picks up momentum. Sitting outside for a few minutes, noticing the morning light or the sound of the birds, before reaching for my phone.

One of the most valuable gifts intuitive eating has given me is the habit of checking in with myself throughout the day, not just "am I hungry?" but "what do I actually need right now?" Sometimes the answer is food. Sometimes it's rest. Sometimes it's movement. Sometimes it's quiet.

Summer has a way of making it feel like the answer should always be yes, to every invitation, every cookout, every late night, every dessert, every activity. Staying grounded means remembering that "no" is a complete sentence. It also means remembering that I always have a choice.

I can enjoy the barbecue without feeling obligated to clean my plate. I can leave the party when I'm tired. I can skip an activity if my body is asking for rest. I can choose presence over perfection.

As the pace of summer continues, my hope isn't to make it through perfectly. My goal is simply to stay connected to myself while enjoying everything the season has to offer. Because health isn't about perfectly following a routine, it's about carrying a sense of balance within yourself. And sometimes the healthiest thing I can do during a busy holiday weekend is pause, take a deep breath, and remember that I don't have to lose myself in order to enjoy the celebration.

If this season has you feeling scattered, disconnected from your body, or unsure how to find your footing again, you don't have to navigate it alone. Learning to slow down, trust yourself, and reconnect with what you truly need is a process, and one that becomes much easier with the right support. Whether you're working through your relationship with food, feeling overwhelmed by life's demands, or simply looking to feel more grounded, I am here to help.

Wishing you a summer filled not with perfection, but with presence.

Healthy doesn't always look Healthy

Healthy Doesn't Always Look Healthy

The other day, I got on a horse for the first time in years. He was tall, gentle, and, as I soon learned, carrying a little extra weight around his middle. Before I climbed into the saddle, the rancher casually mentioned that he was on a special diet. His hay had to be soaked in water to remove some of the sugars because he was prone to metabolic issues.

I couldn't help but laugh. My first thought was, Even the horses are on diets now?

But as he explained, I realized this had nothing to do with the horse's appearance. It wasn't about making him thinner. It was about keeping him healthy. His diet was tailored to his unique health needs, not to how he looked.

That conversation stuck with me because it reminded me how often we confuse health with appearance. We assume we can look at someone and know whether they're healthy. We praise people for looking "fit" without knowing what's happening beneath the surface, and we judge others who don't fit society's image of health.

The truth is, healthy doesn't always look healthy. And looking healthy doesn't always mean you are.

Somewhere along the way, we've confused the appearance of health with health itself. We assume that if someone is thin, exercises every day, drinks green juice, and orders the salad, they must be healthy. On the flip side, we often assume that someone in a larger body or someone who enjoys dessert couldn't possibly be taking care of themselves.

As both a therapist and an intuitive eating counselor, I've learned that what we see on the outside rarely tells the whole story. I've worked with people who looked like the picture of health while privately struggling with food anxiety, compulsive exercise, chronic stress, poor sleep, or an exhausting need to control every bite they ate. Their bodies may have appeared healthy, but their relationship with themselves was anything but.

I've also met people who don't fit society's narrow definition of health who nourish themselves well, move their bodies with joy, prioritize rest, cultivate meaningful relationships, and live with far more peace.

Health isn't a look. It's a way of living. Yes, nutritious food matters. Our bodies thrive on foods that provide energy and nourishment. But nutrition is only one piece of the puzzle. Health also includes quality sleep, managing stress, joyful movement, meaningful relationships, laughter, purpose, and giving ourselves permission to rest. Sometimes the healthiest choice isn't ordering the salad. Sometimes it's saying yes to dinner with friends, taking a day off from the gym, or eating birthday cake because celebrating someone you love nourishes you in ways no nutrient chart can measure.

The healthiest people I know aren't the ones who never eat dessert or never miss a workout. They're the ones who have built balanced lives. They care for their bodies, but they also care for their minds, their relationships, and their spirits.

True health isn't something you wear. It's something you live.

The Things that Feed Me

The other morning, I woke up feeling a little off. Nothing was wrong exactly, but I felt unsettled. In the past, I might have wandered into the kitchen out of sheer habit, ooking for something to eat without giving it much thought. These days, however, I've become much more aware that what feeds me isn't always food.

In fact, I've never really been an emotional eater. If anything, I'm often the opposite. But one of the greatest gifts intuitive eating has given me is the understanding that hunger isn't always about food. Sometimes what I'm craving has nothing to do with what's on my plate and everything to do with what's missing somewhere else in my life.

Lately, I've been paying attention to a different kind of nourishment.

Every morning, I start my day with a bottle of water and either a long walk or a trip to the gym. While the movement is certainly good for my body, I've realized that what feeds me most isn't the workout itself. It's the familiar faces I see each morning. The smiles. The quick conversations. The feeling that I belong somewhere. It is the sense of community that nourishes me. Feeling connected to other people fills me up in a way that has nothing to do with calories or nutrients.

Reading feeds me too. In the middle of a busy day, sitting down with a novel for even ten minutes allows me to step into another world. It quiets the noise in my head and reminds me that rest doesn't always have to be earned. Sometimes getting lost in a good story is exactly what I need.

Writing has become another source of nourishment. Putting words on a page helps me make sense of my experiences. It slows me down and allows me to listen more closely to myself. In a world that constantly encourages us to consume more, there is something deeply satisfying about creating instead.

Friendship feeds me as well. A phone call with a friend. An unexpected text message. Running into someone I haven't seen in years and wrapping each other in a two-armed hug. These moments remind me that I am part of something larger than myself. They ground me in ways no snack ever could.

I'm also learning to let simple moments nourish me. A walk through the city on a beautiful day. Sitting quietly with my morning coffee while still in my pajamas and cozy robe. The feeling of sunshine on my face. These experiences fill me up in ways that are difficult to measure but impossible to ignore.

This doesn't mean food isn't important. Food absolutely nourishes us. It provides energy, pleasure, comfort, culture, and connection. But when I find myself standing in the kitchen looking for something, I've started asking a different question:

What am I really hungry for? Sometimes the answer is food. Sometimes it's the brownie I keep in the freezer and look forward to after dinner, enjoying each bite slowly and completely.

But sometimes the answer isn't a brownie at all. Sometimes it's rest. Sometimes it's creativity. Sometimes it's connection. Sometimes it's movement, fresh air, laughter, or simply a pause in the middle of a busy day.

The more I practice listening, the more I realize that a well-fed life is about so much more than food. It's about recognizing all the different ways we can nourish ourselves and giving ourselves permission to receive that nourishment when we need it.

And maybe that's the real work, not just learning to trust our hunger, but learning to trust what it's trying to tell us.

NY Knicks

Last week, I wrote about the things that feed me that aren't food. The friendships. The creativity. The movement. The quiet moments with a book. The conversations that make me feel seen. The simple experiences that leave me feeling nourished long after the moment has passed.

And then this week, the New York Knicks won.

What struck me wasn't just the game itself. It was the city.

The energy.

The way people came together.

Everywhere I looked, there were people talking about the Knicks. Wearing Knicks hats, tshirts and even standing in long lines to get team swag. Friends gathering around televisions. Text messages flying back and forth. Social media feeds filled with excitement and celebration. For a few hours, people from completely different backgrounds were united by a shared experience.And, in a world that often feels divided, that kind of collective joy feels rare. And nourishing.

As someone who spends a lot of time thinking and writing about intuitive eating, wellness, and what truly feeds us, I couldn't help but notice how much this moment reflected the very things I've been writing about lately.

We often think nourishment comes only from what is on our plates. We focus on protein, vegetables, hydration, and all the things that support our physical health. Those things matter. But humans need more than nutrients.

We need connection. We need belonging. We need experiences that remind us we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

Watching the city celebrate reminded me that community is one of the most powerful forms of nourishment available to us.

You can feel it at the gym when familiar faces greet you. You can feel it around a family dinner table. You can feel it when a friend calls just to check in. And apparently, you can feel it when thousands of New Yorkers rally around a basketball team.

This week, the Knicks gave New York a reason to gather, celebrate, and believe together. Whether you're a lifelong fan or someone who only noticed because everyone else was talking about it, there was something beautiful about witnessing that collective joy and energy.

Sometimes what feeds us most has nothing to do with food at all.

Community

"You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with." — Jim Rohn

The older I get, the more I believe this to be true. Not because we all start dressing alike or ordering the same thing for lunch, but because community has a way of shaping how we care for ourselves.

When people ask what has helped me most on my intuitive eating journey, they expect me to talk about books, courses, or nutrition information. And while those things have played a role, the biggest influence has been the people around me.

This morning, on my way to the gym, I bumped into one of my gym friends as she was dropping her son off at school. As we walked in together, I turned to her and said, "Thank you for starting my morning off right." And I meant it. Over the years, the gym has become so much more than a place to exercise. It has become a community. There are familiar faces who greet me at the door. People who notice when I've been away. And the funny thing is, very few of our conversations are actually about working out. We talk about social media, restaurants, vacations, books we're reading, the everyday messiness of life and everything in between. Yet somehow, those small connections make it so much easier to show up for myself. I love my workouts, but they pale next to the sense of belonging.

I've found the same to be true with family and friends. Wellness is so often portrayed as a solo pursuit, a matter of discipline, willpower, and self-control. But my experience has been different. Wellness grows best in community.

When I'm surrounded by people who value balance, joy, and self-care, those values naturally become part of my life too. When I share meals with friends who eat without guilt and celebrate food instead of fearing it, I'm reminded of what intuitive eating is really about. It's not about perfection. It's about connection to our bodies, to our hunger and fullness cues, and to the people sitting across the table from us.

My favorite memories almost always involve food, but they're never really about the food. Holiday meals are about storytelling and tradition. Dinner with friends becomes the backdrop for something much bigger than the meal itself.

That, I think, is one of the reasons diet culture can feel so isolating. It turns our attention inward with criticism and judgment. Community turns it outward with curiosity and compassion.

These days, I feel a growing gratitude for the people who fill my life. The gym friends who show up alongside me. The family and friends who gather around the table. The people who listen, support, and remind me I'm not navigating this alone.

Intuitive eating has taught me to trust my body. Community has taught me I don't have to do it by myself. And perhaps that is one of the healthiest lessons of all. If you're somewhere on this journey and could use some support, I'm here. Feel free to reach out,  I'd love to be part of your community.