Wellness Words
Clean beauty,
nourishing routines, and
everyday wellness.
Fasting Forward
After a year that tested me deeply, I’m stepping into 2026 with a 90-day intermittent fasting commitment as a purposeful reset. This isn’t my first time fasting, but it’s the first time I’m doing it gently, sustainably, and with full support. Bone broth, butter, salt, coffee, and tea will carry me through fasting days. Movement, hydration, and emotional awareness will guide the rest. If your body’s asking for a rhythm, a reset, or a fresh start, this blog is your invitation to begin again with clarity, strength, and intention.
A New Year, A New Bloom: My 90‑Day Reset
A New Year’s Journey Toward My Final 25 Pounds
This past year has taught me more about my body and my strength than any season before it. When cancer entered my life last winter, everything I thought I could count on shifted. My routines, my plans, even my sense of control dissolved overnight. The only thing I knew I could do was nourish myself with intention, so I turned to a whole‑food, high‑fat way of eating and held on.
Since then, I’ve lost 65 pounds and for the first time in my life, kept it off for more than a year. I didn’t chase thinness; I chased energy, clarity, and the version of myself who could run after my kids and look in the mirror and see a woman rising, not a patient.
But after six steady months on a plateau, I’m ready for the next chapter.
I’m ready to finish what I started.
For the first 90 days of 2026, I’m committing to a clean, consistent ketogenic lifestyle, layered with intermittent fasting, gentle movement, and emotional honesty.
This isn’t about vanity. It’s about health, longevity, and reclaiming the body that carried me through cancer and motherhood. It’s about honoring the woman who fought so hard to stay alive. It’s about showing my children what it looks like to rise.
This is my next bloom: a season of discipline, clarity, and hope.
And at the end of these 90 days, I’ll share the transformation: the lessons, the shifts, and the quiet strength that comes from choosing to rise again.
Coffee, Ashes, and Wildflowers
There’s a particular kind of quiet that arrives with the first sip of coffee—a small ceremony to begin the day. For survivors, this ritual carries extra meaning: warmth in the hands, steadiness in the body, and a return to what feels familiar.
Rituals don’t demand drama; they invite presence. The kettle’s whisper, the bloom of grounds, the inhale of steam—each motion signals that you are here, and the day is beginning.
On the back porch, sunlight meets the warmth of the mug. This isn’t multitasking—it’s a pause. A sanctuary. A rhythm that honors both healing and hope.
Let this moment welcome the day.