wellness expert.
Hey, I'm Lindsay!
I’m a holistic wellness + nutrition coach, helper, avid fitness enthusiast, mental health advocate, and self-love cheerleader.
I fully stand behind thinking out of the box, going after your dreams, taking the road less traveled, not settling, working hard, staying the course, having faith, believing in yourself, loving yourself, working on yourself, improving yourself, and doing your BEST not to compare yourself to others all along the way (easier said than done, I know).
You deserve to own your worth; To take up space in this world as much as the next man or woman – scratch that – NEXT to the other men and women because we are all in this together.
You are YOU – and that is to be celebrated.
You are allowed to own everything about you (insecurities and all) while taking steps towards feeling your most confident self.
It is my whole-hearted belief that when you FEEL good, you BELIEVE you can DO good in this world.
What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it's supposed to be.
I grew up in New York City – a little voice on a BIG stage – unsure of myself, my confidence, my purpose, and my intelligence.
I did all the right things (by society’s standards): went to a private school, dieted and over-exercised, dyed my hair, dieted and over-exercised, straightened my hair, tried really hard to not to do anything to upset anyone, did all the cool things to fit in, dieted and over-exercised, went the extra mile to go to a top-rated college (struggled to find direction), dieted and over-exercised, got married before the age of 30, bought a house before the age of 30, tried to start a family soon after because I already felt way behind, and dieted and over-exercised a little bit more…
Guess what!? None of it made me happy. None of it made me love myself - let alone like myself.
None of it made me healthy or grateful to be alive.
None of it made me confident about my body, or my direction in life.
Instead – I just felt lost, frustrated, and defeated.
What I came to realize was that sometimes the things you think you want are the very things holding you back from discovering what your heart truly desires. So then life ends up deciding for you...
For me, that was December 3rd, 2016.
At the age of 33, that was the day I thought my life was over.
After enduring 3 miscarriages and 3 fertility-related surgeries over the last year and a half, that day was the beginning of the end of what I “thought” was my “happy” marriage.
I never saw “the end” coming.
And if you told me that I would be talking about it here and sharing about it so honestly and freely today, I never would have believed you.
What followed was extreme grief, exhaustion, loss, change, and the shattering of a dream: how I thought my life was supposed to be.
The idea of starting over at 33 was daunting, hence thinking my life was over.
I had no confidence, no hope, my heart was broken and my self-esteem was shattered.
At the time, I felt so alone, and all I wanted was a family of my own.
I had no idea how I was supposed to ever like myself, let alone love myself.
So, I had no idea how another person was supposed to do that if I couldn’t do that for myself.
I realized that I had spent almost the last 8 years of my life living for another person.
I lost myself completely.
And it wasn’t over yet.
For most of my life, I’ve tied my self-worth to how I felt about my body. As you can imagine, being left by your husband does not help this in any way.
I can’t really remember a time while growing up when I could honestly say what I liked, let alone loved about my body.
I went up and down in weight more times than I care to remember.
I got my hands on any dieting or fitness related book or magazine, hoping it would solve my unhappiness.
I constantly read what the “stars” were doing, immediately tried to follow it, and then shortly after hated myself even more when I wouldn’t get the same results.
I was a cardio queen, diet fad devotee, and professional yo-yo dieter.
I actually wished that I had the willpower to be anorexic, but the comfort of food always lured me off track.
When I discovered strength training close to 15 years ago, I slowly began lifting heavy weights and started to truly learn how to fuel myself.
My body responded positively and something I had been scared to do for so long for so many reasons (the myth of getting bulky, intimidated in the weight room, afraid of failing) became second-nature.
I felt empowered, strong, accomplished, and proud.
I began lifting for aesthetic reasons but I keep lifting for SO much more.
My confidence has infinitely increased in proportion to the strength gains I have made in the gym.
With all that said, I am a work in progress. I always have been and I always will be. We all are. And don’t trust anyone who says otherwise!
That relationship I devoted myself to took me away from this true passion of mine, and I lost myself.
I continued to struggle with my weight from the beginning of that chapter through the end and beyond. After my first miscarriage, I became obsessed with figuring out if anything was truly wrong with me, and turned to food once again for comfort and an escape.
I never thought I had a real bingeing problem. I was definitely an emotional eater but never wanted to come to terms with the fact that maybe I actually needed help. I shamed myself for not being able to do it on my own.
Especially because of having a nutrition background…Oh how wrong I was!
Throughout the process of my divorce, for the first time ever, I actually did not have an appetite.
I secretly loved it.
I was too focused on how empty my heart felt to worry about my stomach or energy.
But I was weak, and feeling very unhealthy with each passing day.
When my divorce was finally finalized, my house was sold, I had said goodbye to my youngest dog, and lastly moved out to live alone for my very first time EVER, I still felt like my life was in complete disarray.
My appetite, however, started to come back late at night.
I couldn’t resist the cravings, so I started to turn to food since I felt SO alone, uncertain, and uneasy.
But this time – with my self-esteem still at an all-time low – I couldn’t imagine gaining back all the weight that seemed to just effortlessly slip off the last few months.
Nope – there’s was NO way that could happen.
So I started to purge.
Some days it was all I could think about during my day. I couldn’t wait for that use of control – I longed for the release that it brought me.
I numbed my feelings with food, my drug of choice-which is so fucked up because, well, you have to eat. It was around me everywhere.
Which is why it took me so long to believe this wasn’t OK.
I looked forward to thinking about all the foods I was going to get to eat, and not worry about eating because I would just “take care of it” right after.
In the beginning, the word “bulimic” didn’t even cross my mind. I mean, it didn’t count if it was just once in awhile, right?!
Wrong.
I had a problem.
I had a secret.
And I had so much shame.
Through some miracle, I had the will to know I deserved better – that my body deserved to be treated better.
In December 2017 – about 1 year after my whole world was turned upside down, I decided that 2018 was going to be different, dammit.
Different in how I treated and respected my body.
Grace, love, and compassion were to be allowed if I was having a bad day and I wouldn’t punish my health over it.
This meant if I overate, then so be it. I didn’t deserve to call myself fat or a failure or unlovable, or disgusting, etc. etc. etc.
I had started to open up about my story and my struggles and found solace in connecting with other people and community, including regular therapy sessions as well as my “movement” therapy – aka my treasured workouts.
However, this part of my life was still a big part of my journey that I always just alluded to or mentioned in passing but struggled to feel confident enough to truly open up about.
It truly was the skeleton in my closet.
Slowly but surely, the shame faded away because the power of being vulnerable is real, and I allowed it to.
See, for as long as I can remember, food has been some sort of comfort. I felt emotionally alone a lot while growing up. I learned how to cope. Also to relate to certain people through this comfort and by resisting this comfort. I learned how to get positively noticed by loved ones if I was successful. So I embarked on years of disordered eating: up and down, orthorexia, bingeing, purging, etc.
My love for fitness – for the most part in the latter part of my life – has actually always been about the amazing empowered feeling I get from it. Not about the calories burned. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s easy to fall into that mindset as well.
Fitness has been my saving grace, and I consider it as a form of therapy, too.
Today I can confidently say that *I am enough* *I am worthy* *I love myself* – AS a work in progress.
It’s not because I’ve reached a “goal weight” or my “dream body”. It’s not because I have it ALL figured out.
Part of it is because of what they say is true – you don’t become happy WHEN you reach your destination. You learn to be happy along the ride SO THAT you CAN reach your destination.
I now know I deserve everything my heart desires.
Period.
Not because of how I look, if I’ve done enough with my day, or because of what another person thinks of me.
Just because I’m me.
