🌿 Running on Empty (and Learning to Refuel Gently)

My body is the vehicle that carries my recovery, my voice, my relationships, and my purpose.

And right now — less than two weeks into 2026 — that vehicle is running on empty.

I’ve been up against a deadline, finishing my book proposal, mapping out a year’s worth of workshops and speaking engagements. Add in daily life — house projects, errands, and yes, rearranging the living room furniture (because apparently I like to add unnecessary sofa-lifting to an already full plate) — and no surprise: my energy is thin.

I’ve learned to listen to my body, because for most of my life it just worked.I didn’t think about it much.Then came the dark stretch when everything changed.

Trauma, fear, and hopelessness crept into my life about a dozen years ago and began to shape how I moved, breathed, and carried myself. My body mirrored my inner world. I didn’t recognize who I’d become — not just physically, but spiritually. I used to call it my fat suit — like I was trapped inside a costume I couldn’t take off.

That season taught me something I never forgot: body, mind, and spirit aren’t separate departments. They share one roof. When one is ignored, the others eventually make noise — sometimes softly, sometimes like an alarm.

January has a way of reminding us of that.Everywhere we turn, there’s pressure to reset, transform, do it right this time.After the chaos of the holidays, we crave control and clarity — and the body becomes the first place we try to impose them.

But I’m learning — again — that caring for the body doesn’t need to be extreme to be meaningful. It doesn’t need punishment, perfection, or grand declarations. Sometimes it looks like listening. Simplifying. Choosing nourishment over urgency.

Right now, that means real food.More vegetables. Leafy greens. Lean protein.Nothing dramatic. Nothing performative. Just respect.

Even when there’s a pastry case calling my name.Even when the gym parking lot is overflowing and I decide to do some stretches in my home office instead.

Because this isn’t about fixing myself — it’s about honoring the vessel that lets me do everything else: write, speak, create, love, and walk with my husband and Frisco at the end of a long day, exhausted but grateful.

So this January, I’m skipping the “new year, new me” storyline.Instead, I’m refueling slowly — on peace, presence, and small choices that tell my body:I’m listening.

That feels like a good place to begin.

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Photo - Delicious and healthful lunch at the beautiful Tewksbury Inn — and no, Barry is not eating brains, those are mashed potatoes, lol.