My challenge has always been slowing down enough to notice what I am eating, how I am eating, and what my body is asking for, so I created a tool to help me pay attention.
Then life gave me a much bigger reason to use it. Recently, I woke up in the middle of the night in pain. Not ordinary discomfort, but pain. My hands were stiff, and my body was making it very clear that something was not right. By 4:00 in the morning, I was on a telehealth call with a doctor trying to explain what was happening.
We talked through possibilities, and one of the things we discussed was ruling out gout. I do not have gout, but the conversation sent my mind straight back to food. What am I eating? What am I drinking? What am I giving this body every day?
Suddenly the Mindful Eating Tracker I created because I eat too fast was sitting right beside another tool I had created for a completely different reason: my Medical Journal. One helps me notice what my body is telling me, while the other helps me pay attention to what I am giving it in return. I created them separately, but it took waking up in pain in the middle of the night for me to realize I need to use them together.
This is not the first time my body has forced me to pay attention. I learned that when I was alone with a concussion and an injury and had to figure out what I needed next, and I wrote about that experience before. Apparently my body likes continuing education. 😂 This latest scare, though, took me even further back.
When I first learned I had rheumatoid arthritis, I took nutrition classes and went all in: juicing, smoothies, trying to be vegan, eating mostly vegetarian, reading, learning, and trying to understand what I could do to support myself while living with an autoimmune disorder. Then I got better. The medication worked, I felt better, and somewhere along the way, better started to feel a lot like gone.
Imagine my horror when I learned that rheumatoid arthritis does not simply disappear. Beyond all belief, I had apparently either been in remission or managing it really well, which is wonderful, but it also meant I had gotten comfortable. Too comfortable. I started eating everything again, and for me that was a bad move.
Not because one meal caused my recent pain and not because I think food is a cure for rheumatoid arthritis, but because I had stopped eating with the same intention I once had. That is what I am changing now. I am not eating to make myself smaller, and I am not trying to become a perfect eater. I am eating to feed the woman I want to keep becoming: brain, bones, muscles, joints, skin, hair, nails, energy, strength, the whole woman.
Feed the Goddess. Maintain the Temple. That is the assignment, and yes, I still eat too fast. Mindfulness has not turned me into a perfect eater. It keeps reminding me to pay attention.
Sometimes I imagine what my life would look like without mindfulness. I am grieving both of my parents, living with an autoimmune disorder, and navigating all the things the world seems to think Black women should be able to carry without complaint. I miss home. I miss people I love. I have hopes, plans, disappointments, responsibilities, and a body that keeps changing while I am living in it.
That is why I like PIES in the morning, in the evening, and anytime in between. It helps me ask: What does this body need today? What does this heart need? What can I actually do right now?
Sometimes the answer is nourishing food, and sometimes it is rest or movement. Sometimes it is making the appointment, writing down what happened, calling somebody, or simply breathing before I decide what comes next. That is what mindful eating has become for me.
It is not dieting, restriction, or punishment. It is attention, provision, and care. I want to bring food to this body like an offering, not because the temple is perfect, but because it is mine, and I would very much like to keep living in it.
So now the Medical Journal and the Mindful Eating Tracker sit together. One asks, What is my body telling me? The other asks, What am I giving my body in return? That feels like a practice I can actually live with.
I can track the pain, write down the questions, remember what the doctor said, notice what I ate, notice how I felt, and slow down long enough to taste my food. I can pay attention to whether I am feeding my brain, bones, muscles, joints, skin, hair, nails, and energy in a way that reflects how much I actually want to be here.
And if I fall out of rhythm, I begin again. Perfection was never the goal. Paying attention is. Feed the Goddess. Maintain the Temple. You can find my Mindful Eating Tracker, Medical Journal, and other Rooted for Care tools here: