I’m diligently editing my way through my short memoir, Body, Enough: A Memoir in Motion, and it’s starting to feel real.
This little book—part memoir, part movement, part reckoning—has been my companion through so many versions of myself: the seventh-grade fat girl, the postpartum runner, the fitness instructor chasing thinness, the woman learning to stop fighting her own body.
It’s been a long road to learning that strength and stillness aren’t opposites. They’re sisters.
As I read through these chapters, I keep landing on this line that still hits me in the gut:
“I thought I’d finally mastered control of my body.
But under the lights, I saw what it cost.
I could look the part—if I was willing to live hungry and half-alive.
Control wasn’t freedom.
I could have the body I wanted, but not the life I needed.“
That’s really what Body, Enough is about: the illusion of control, and the slow, honest work of returning home to yourself.
If you’ve ever measured your worth in calories, miles, mirrors, or approval—I wrote this for you.
The book will be coming soon-ish!
Stay tuned — I’ll be sharing a few early pages next week.
For everyone who’s ever looked in the mirror and wanted to disappear—this one’s for you.
Come hang out with me on I’m Healing Out Loud—my Substack home where memoir meets midlife mayhem, queer joy, grief, guts, and gym sweat. You’ll get the real, the raw, and the occasionally ridiculous—plus behind-the-scenes peeks, poetry, and my favorite kind of rebellion: healing in public.
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