Changing the Lens

There’s something deeply personal and vulnerable I want to share with you.

For most of my life, I fixated on my body and my appearance. I lived in cycles of disordered eating, body dysmorphia, shame, and quiet self-criticism. I carried a belief that if I could just lose the weight—if my body could finally look the way it was *supposed* to—then confidence, happiness, and peace would follow.

That story was convincing. But it was untrue.

Long before I had language for it, my relationship with my body was shaped by moments that lodged themselves deeply into my nervous system. One of those moments happened in high school. I was sitting outside in the sunshine while my father stood behind the camera, taking photos of me.

“You’re not photogenic,” he said.

At the time, my body was not something I loved—it was something I monitored, judged, and quietly despised. I believed I wasn’t skinny enough. That I wasn’t pretty enough. That I was somehow wrong in my form. Those beliefs didn’t live in isolation. They became the lens through which I saw myself, shaping my confidence, my identity, and the way I moved through the world.

I learned to hide, play small, and hold back. I believed being seen was unsafe.

What You Don’t See

Many people look at me now—as a Wellness Architect—and assume that body confidence came easily. I’ve had women say, “You’ve never had to worry about your weight,” or “You’re so lucky—you’re tall and thin.” These assumptions are rooted in appearance, not awareness.

What it looks like is not always what it is.

I’ve been called lucky. I’ve been told I have good genetics. I’ve even been labeled a “skinny b****,” as if my body erased my lived experience. As if radiant health simply arrived without confusion, struggle, or self-doubt.

The truth is, I became who I am *because* I struggled.

I chose this path because I felt disconnected from my body, overwhelmed by conflicting information, and disempowered in my health and my life. I walked myself through uncertainty, shame, and physical imbalance. The becoming came after the hardship—not before it.

Being Seen

The work I do now—the leadership, the visibility, the expression—has required me to meet one of my deepest fears: being seen. Fully. On camera. On video. In my body. Last year, I chose to do a professional brand photoshoot with an embodiment photographer. It wasn’t about images. It was about confronting a belief I had carried my entire life—that I wasn’t beautiful, and that I wasn’t worthy of being seen.

For the first time, I saw myself through a different lens. Not through judgment or inadequacy, but through presence. I felt something soften. I began to recognize my own beauty—not as performance, but as truth. I realized I had been seeing myself through a distorted lens rooted in lack and “not enough.”

During the shoot, I shared my story—how uncomfortable visibility had always been for me. And my photographer reflected something back that shifted everything:

The story wasn’t the wound. It was the rising.

That experience wasn’t about being photogenic. It was about reclamation.

About allowing myself to be seen without armor. Without apology.

A Living Practice

Healing doesn’t erase the past. It rewrites the meaning we assign to it. It changes the lens through which we see ourselves and the world. I am still human. I still move through seasons. Recently, while caregiving for my mother full-time, my body changed again. I gained weight. Old voices resurfaced. I recognized the familiar pull to measure my worth by my reflection.

And instead of punishing myself, I chose presence.

I guided myself through a Radiance Reset—not from discipline, but devotion. Not from control, but listening. Eighteen days in, my body began responding immediately: weight gently releasing, inflammation softening, energy returning, sleep deepening, my cycle regulating in ways I never knew were possible.

This is the power of Embodied Wellness.

Not deprivation, devotion. Not control, but commitment. When we nourish and support the body—rather than override it—transformation becomes inevitable. As Wayne Dyer so wisely said, “when we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change.” And when one woman heals her relationship with her body, she doesn’t just rise—she changes what’s possible for every woman watching.

This is our time. To heal. To rise.