I recently came dreadfully close to making a Very Bad Decision. There were a couple of weeks of ruminating and whining and imploring about What should I dooooooooo. Where should I doooo it?

All culminating in my spending an entire day in my pajamas eating chocolate and peanut butter. And also pretzels and ice cream. And a slew of other crap. Phew! Crisis averted. Just in the nick of time.

Of course gorging on sugar is kind of a crisis of its own magnitude, but I’ll tolerate that marathon eating spasm in order to gain a little perspective. I’m okay dealing with some minor nausea and frustration if it will keep me from backing my soul into a corner. That trade is plenty fair in my book.

I thought I was confused about this particular decision, but apparently my essential self was effervescently clear. And one of her favorite strategies for making a point is to highjack my attention by embarking on monumental lust for gooey desserts. Clever, that one.

(However, in order to keep me on my toes, she’s equally committed to manic preoccupation with obsessive attempts at achieving The Perfect Body. You know, to balance things out.)

After centuries of struggle, I’m intimate enough with these delightful quirks to know that whatever thing has her all wound up with cookies and compulsion has about zero to do with body stuff.

I used to be all Why?Why?Why? can’t I just eat like a normal person who is effortlessly slender???

Not a useful question. It just kept me from noticing that insistent tap on my shoulder and buzz in my ear. The one saying Ah ah ah, you are heading in the most incredibly wrong direction, Dearie.

Now it might take experiencing the rare junk food frenzy. But if I get very attentive and willing to go deeper than bittersweet chocolate (um, hypothetically speaking), and if I get curious about those impulses instead of critical, my essential self is happy to feed me clues about the state of my spirit.

And she ends up being right an infuriating percentage of the time.

Does your essential self have a favorite way to make you crazy command your attention?

I ate a chocolate croissant on Sunday. I’ve been wanting one for a month, since seeing “It’s Complicated” on Valentines Day. Watching Meryl Streep & Steve Martin bake and delight in a batch of chocolate croissants in that sweet Santa Barbara bakery planted a seed that was bound to grow.

Not that I’ve been resisting having one, or denying myself the pleasure since then. I just haven’t spent the time or energy to fit the chocolate croissant into my life. Today I happened to be hungry and near one of my favorite bakeries at the same time, and the puzzle pieces fit together just right.

It was deliciously buttery and flakey and about the size of my head. It was actually so chocolatey that I had to scoop out some of the center and leave it aside, knowing it would make me sick to eat it all.

So I savored the treat, and at the same time I was aware of some angsty guilt and foggy thoughts about all of the (refined sugar and flour?! eek!) reasons why I really shouldn’t be eating it.

Sometimes I have to go ahead and do it anyway. In fact, I had a hunch I would feel uncomfortable. And being all judgey about a simple croissant is one of the reasons I chose to indulge.

My eating has been pretty clean lately, and for me there is such a thing as too clean. Because, you know, I can make broccoli an unhealthy decision. Too clean can carve a rut every bit as formidable and controlling as overindulgence can feel reckless and out of control.

My judgmental thoughts and free-floating guilt are leftover from old, painful patterns. They still like to say hello, but they’re transparent and flimsy, they’ve lost their impressive sheen. Which means that they no longer control my next move.

I guess I’m not as impressed because now I believe that I’m allowed to eat a chocolate croissant.

I still wonder why I sometimes need to consciously choose to make myself eat the croissant.

I think it’s about reminding myself that I am allowed. And remembering that although chocolate croissants taste delicious, they are only a slice of the sweetness available in any moment.

Butter and chocolate are yummy. But when you deny yourself something, the buildup is extreme and sensational. And the fantasy represents more than a simple pastry could ever deliver.

I’m also going on location next week for a production shoot. Which means catering and craft services instead of green smoothies and veggie salads. Basically, very little control and plentiful junk.

I used to set up so many conditions to feel safe and empowered around food. And then panic at the idea of having less control over my options. Eating a chocolate croissant now is a way to remind myself that balance is safe, and that taking the middle way is sustainable and nourishing.

A couple of weeks ago I had an initial session with a personal trainer. After the session he wanted me to commit to training. Like, sign a contract commit? Hmmm.

I want to commit to personal training, but I didn’t want to commit on the spot. He didn’t get it. Or want to get it. And weirdly, not wanting to commit right then had nothing at all to do with fitness. The importance of being active is totally obvious to me. I love working out and I love a challenge.

Here’s what not committing was about: I have one hell of a people-pleasing streak. People I’m close with might laugh at that, because I also have one stubborn I-only-do-what-I-want-to-do streak.

But for some reason, my inner people-pleaser is particularly concerned with strangers and people I don’t know well. She loves getting external approval and hates making anyone feel uncomfortable. (Whoa. Which is really about avoiding feeling uncomfortable myself, right?)

And to avoid an awkward moment, I’ll often just say yes to whatever another person wants. Or I did. But it’s not really working anymore because now I’m onto myself. So this time I ended up having an awkward conversation. Ugh. But, I lived to tell about it. Yay!

His argument sounded so infallible:

What do you need to think about? You know fitness is important, that’s why you’re here. And I mean, come on, you’re a wellness coach.

Yeah, he totally went there. And all of that is true, but it just didn’t matter.

Like a fool, I kind of tried to explain it. Without going all Shiva Nata on him, I said:

“Hey, it’s kind of an old pattern of mine to jump into something without thinking it all the way through. Sometimes I do it out of knee-jerk enthusiasm or because I don’t want to say no to someone. And so the healthy thing would be for me to take some time to think about it, and come back and choose to say yes on my own terms.”

Well I said some variation of that about sixteen times. He looked at me like I was stark raving bonkers and then argued that he’d understand where I was coming from if investing in training wasn’t such a healthy decision.

To which I replied that I can make broccoli an unhealthy decision. Because it’s really about the motivation under the behavior.

He thought I was ridiculous. It would have been so much easier if he’d understood. But that’s really not the point. Or actually, that’s the whole point. The fact that he disagreed with my decision and my reasoning is just more fodder for my people-pleaser to work through.

Confession: this post has an ulterior motive. Except… Well, if I call it out like that right there at the beginning, it seems more utterly obvious than ulterior. Huh.

Well here’s the thing: as I get really amped about creating my coaching practice, all of the entrepreneurial marketing-type experts out there say to focus on only one thing. I keep hearing loads of hoopla about how I should help one group of people with one specific thing. Even better if they hang out in the same places and have the same birthday and buy the same brand of toilet paper. Seriously, niche it up or fail.

But I don’t wanna. And lucky for me there’s this one biggification genius who says otherwise. Which makes her my very favorite one because she’s kinda telling me what I want to hear. (Pattern here? You betcha.) So in the spirit of doing my thing, I’m listening to her and kinda doing whatever I want. *Knocks on wood*

So… second confession of the day. And this one’s a little bit more personal. I’ve hinted at it here and here, and a little here. Oh heavens, I allude to it quite a bit. Which means I guess it’s not all that secret or personal anymore. Here goes: I’ve dabbled in a variety of unhealthy eating (and not eating) patterns and stuff. There. And dabble is the gentlest euphemism I can muster. Anyway.

The point is, healing my stuff around eating, weight, and body image introduced me to myself, to what I really want and what I’m really about. It was a pattern that ended up being a window into… well, you know… like, my soul or something. *She takes a deep breath*. Which ultimately led me to finding my thing. This thing: the coaching & helping people & wellness & self-work thing.

And so now I really have no interest in separating the two. I have to help people make peace with their bodies so they can get on with their happy, healthy lives. And I have to help people find their thing.

Have. To. Compelled to. *Love* to.

And the question becomes how to go about doing that. Because maybe you’re rolling along, determined to find your thing, and be deliriously happy doing your thing, but you don’t have any body-related stuck spots or give a *$%# about reaching your ideal weight. Well then I don’t want to talk your ear off about that. I just want to help you find your thing. And so that’s what I’m going to do here.

But. Over here? I’m going to talk about all that other stuff. About how to end the drama, reach your ideal weight, and stay there. For good.

And of course I’m doing a crazy launch special that’s half off or something. But in addition to that, I’m at the end of some extra training and certification and have openings for just a couple of interested peeps who will get a ridiculously smokin’ deal*. So if that sounds like something you’d be up for, or might be a good fit for someone you know, I’d love to hear from you.

*And by ridiculous, I’m talking practically free. In exchange for the willingness to get started right away, and be part of my certification process. Which means sessions will be recorded and submitted to my insanely talented master coach for feedback. Which will ultimately also help you. Hey, cool, win-win! Sorry! All filled up.

***Way important sidenote: I’m so grateful to Allie for all of her help with design ~ Her style is lovely and so is she!

Back in the throes of adolescence and raging hormones, my friends and I used to play this fun little game:

Would you rather be really skinny no matter what you ate or have an absolutely beautiful face?

This dysfunctional posturing usually divided us pretty evenly into two camps: it was “well, my weight is something I should be able to control so I choose the gorgeous face” versus “I would give anything to be skinny and never have to think about it ever, ever, never, ever again.”

I thought that I wanted to be skinny so that I could stop worrying about my weight.  I wanted to be one of those girls who can eat whatever she wants, unapologetically and unselfconsciously, and always remain effortlessly slender.

Then a few years ago I started noticing a pattern.  When I get what I thought I wanted (cool apartment, boyfriend, fancy job title, anything really), it never felt the way I hoped it would.  And I started wondering, what is the deal?

All kinds of crazy smart people (Malcolm Gladwell, Daniel Gilbert) have researched and written about this very topic.  And I did loads of reading and meditating and visualizing and journaling – all of it to figure out what step I was missing and how I could fix it be happy now.

Eventually I learned about going to the balcony: identifying the feeling I’m really hoping for, and consciously choosing to act the way I want to feel. (I don’t mean to oversimplify this process – after years of building ruts in my brain, at first it looked kind of like one step forward, 347 steps back.)  

I realized that when it came to being thin, one of the things I really wanted was to feel carefree.  Oh yes, there were other wants tangled up in this perpetual longing, both shallow and complex, but feeling carefree was really the golden nugget. 

Hmmm.  So I spent the last 15 years worrying about my weight so that someday, when I reach that ultimate pinnacle of svelteness, I won’t have to worry anymore.

Wait. Wha?!?

I feel so freaking blessed to discover that it just doesn’t work that way.  In my experience, you can’t lose weight by worrying yourself into a stress ball of anxiety about your weight.  It kind of kills the whole carefree vibe, you know?

Instead I started finding ways to embody *carefree*. I spent time dwelling in that feeling state. I learned how to relax and be still in areas of my life seemingly unrelated to weight.  And then getting thin (and more importantly, healing body image) became this delicious little perk instead of the whole point of my whole life.

Maybe for you it’s not about feeling carefree.  Maybe you’re hoping to lose weight so that you can feel confident or happy.  Or maybe you don’t even care about losing weight.  Maybe you want to get married so that you can feel supported and loved.  

What about cultivating ways to feel confident and happy, or supported and loved, now?  I’m not saying it’s easy to cut out the middle man, especially if you’ve spent years thinking “If only I can have X, then I’ll be ___ [happy, carefree, comfortable in my own skin].  But for me, it was the only way to freedom.   

For one thing, you might actually enjoy the journey.  And, of course, it will make getting what you really want pretty much inevitable.

Yesterday marks a year since I decided to become vegan.  (I’m pretty sure I just lost most of you, but I’m going to keep writing anyway.  I promise there will be a twist.)  The anniversary is only relevant because I remember giving up all animal products the day after the 4th of July.  And I think the date is kind of funny because it reminds me that I didn’t make the transition slowly.  It’s not like I went from vegetarian to vegan, and I wasn’t someone who had already given up red meat or dairy.

A year ago I celebrated the 4th of July with a group of friends under the Golden Gate Bridge at Chrissy Field.  And the guy in charge of the main dish?  A friend from North Carolina, where no less than loving marriages have been ended after arguments about the best way to prepare barbecued pork.  I think you can imagine what we feasted on.  Also, I was the holiday’s pastry chef – homemade fudgy brownies and inside-out carrot cake cookies.

So outlawing all animal products was quite a shock to the way I’d been eating all my life.  And it didn’t last (and now I’ve lost the rest of you).  But it did change me.  For one, it gave me a whole new googling interest to pursue at a time when I’d rather watch infomercials on endless loop than do my real job.  And there is plenty of information to be found out there about veganism.  Some of it extreme and self-righteous, most of it heartfelt and inspiring.  

But if we must label, today I’m more of a former vegan, mostly veggie, ovo-pesca-flexitarian.  (Sense a resistance to being labeled?)  One who occasionally puts a few drops of half-n-half in her iced espresso.  And blissfully ignores the butter in both restaurant cuisine and pastries.  And I’ll eat pretty much anything served at someone else’s house (try as I might to silence my inner people-pleaser, this is one area she really runs the show).

After plenty of experimentation, I’ve learned that ruling out any food forever simply does not work for me.  At all.  Tell me I should avoid sugar, and I’ll drizzle maple syrup over everything from waffles to garlic bread.  What’s that you say?  Bread is off limits?  I’ll start coveting toast for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, and pizzza for dinner.  Oh, and how about a crouton floater in that glass of pinot noir?

For those vegans incited by my inability to commit, in the wise words of Fleetwood Mac, you can go your own way.  And I mean that with all of the love and respect you can imagine.  Because I think the most important thing is to know ourselves, and embrace healthy living in whatever way floats our boats.  I really believe this wholeheartedly, and I love talking about it, so chances are good this won’t be the last time.

As for me, nowadays I follow the sage and oft-quoted advice of Michael Pollan – “Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.”  And there are days I still have to consciously work at the “not too much” part.

One of my closest friends e-mailed me this week wanting my opinion of a weight loss book that had recently hit the shelves. She knows me so well – I am insatiable when it comes to learning about nutrition, wellness, and the latest in weight-loss.  So of course no exception here, I had read through most of the book and liked it.

I told my girlfriend exactly what I thought of the book’s message: It’s like any other advice – motivational for a little while, but ultimately you’re the one who has to decide how much to eat and exercise no matter how many tips and tricks someone can give you. She wrote back “You are right about the book. I act like I don’t know what to do but I know I do, it’s just a matter of committing.”

I would say she’s not giving herself enough credit. The girl is pretty great at committing. She’s one of the most fiercely loyal people I know, and (warning: corny alert) her friendship is one of my life’s treasured blessings. She’s also a supportive wife, a loving daughter and sister, and an overall top notch, reliable human being. She knows how to do commitment. And she admits she knows what to do when it comes to weight loss. So where is the disconnect?

When it comes to overeating, or some other compulsive behavior, I think we generally know exactly what we need to do. So maybe knowledge is not the issue. And I don’t think this is about willpower or commitment either. After years or decades of struggling, maybe it’s time to admit that manhandling our scared and tired selves into submission is, quite simply, not the answer.

I think the first step is to realize that there is no magic external answer. For me, change only started to become possible when I discovered that my food- and eating-related behavior is a window into the state of my soul. Now I know that if get a little overindulgent with the M&M’s (read: scarfing them behind closed doors at every opportunity), there’s probably something much deeper going on than an honest chocolate craving.

And whatever the problem is, I can be sure that a candy fix is not going to solve it. The overeating (or shopping or gambling or drinking or insert your addiction of choice here) actually makes the problem worse on so many levels.  The worst of it is that numbing out with compulsive behavior makes it much harder to discover what feeling we are actually trying to numb in the first place.

But… I’ve found that this is very good news. Because if the solution is not outside of you (it is sooo not outside of you), and if the unwanted pattern is a symptom of a bigger negative belief, then choosing to stay with yourself instead of spacing out with chocolate means you are about to have an opportunity to meet your truest self face to face.

Yes, this can be absolutely terrifying. And there is a lot more to be said about how to face the fear.  But for now, I’m just saying that feeling this fear is almost certainly necessary to living an authentic life.  And living an authentic life is really the most thrilling adventure there is.