This Didn’t Start With a Diet

What changed in my health, my habits, and my understanding of how the body works

This didn’t start with a diet.

It started slowly, over years, through illness, treatment, and a growing awareness of how fragile, but also how resilient the body really is.

I’ve lived with blood cancer. I went through a stem cell transplant. I’ve been on medications that were necessary, but came with a long list of side effects. At one point, I was taking more than I ever thought I would, and I realized I didn’t want that to be my long-term reality if I could help it.

There wasn’t a single turning point. It was more like a gradual shift, layer by layer, as I learned more and began connecting things I hadn’t understood before.

I didn’t want cancer again. I didn’t want to depend on medications if I didn’t have to. And maybe more than anything, I didn’t want to lose my ability to think clearly, move freely, and take care of myself as I get older.

I’m not trying to live forever. I just want a good quality of life while I’m here.

For a long time, I believed in moderation. I remember thinking, very sincerely, what is the point of life if you can’t enjoy it? I had no interest in extreme diets. I knew people who did keto and thought it sounded unnecessary, maybe even a little crazy. And honestly, I didn’t think I needed it. I already ate “pretty healthy”—or “healthfully,” as my mom would insist (and she definitely would)—at least compared to the average person (and don’t get her started on the term “organic” food—I’m not equipped for that level of correction).

But over time, something shifted.

Part of it came from what I had been through physically. Part of it came from learning more about inflammation, blood sugar, and how the body actually functions. And part of it was realizing that “pretty healthy” and actually working for my body were not always the same thing.

So eventually, after years of saying I never would, I decided to try eating differently. Not as a rigid rule or a permanent declaration. Just as an experiment.

What I didn’t expect was how much better I would feel.

Before, I dealt with a lot of things I had come to think of as normal—fatigue, waking up in the night and not feeling rested, joint discomfort, frequent hunger, and that shaky, lightheaded feeling if I went too long without eating. The thought of fasting for blood work genuinely stressed me out.

Now, most of that is gone. I don’t wake up at 4:00 a.m. needing something just to feel okay. I can go hours without thinking about food. My energy is more steady, my sleep is better, and mentally I feel clearer. My focus and short-term memory have improved, and I feel more capable and steady in general.

It’s not perfect, but it’s different in a way I can’t ignore.

A normal afternoon around here

Understanding What’s Happening in the Body

What I’m doing now is often called a ketogenic, or “keto,” way of eating. At its core, it simply means lowering carbohydrates enough that your body starts relying more on fat for fuel instead of constantly running on sugar.

When you eat carbohydrates, your body breaks them down into glucose, which raises your blood sugar. In response, your body releases insulin, a hormone that helps move that sugar into your cells to be used for energy or stored. When carbohydrates are consistently high, that cycle happens over and over, and over time the body can become less responsive to insulin.

When that happens, the body often compensates by producing more of it. Blood sugar can stay elevated longer, insulin levels stay higher, and things become less stable, with more swings in energy, more frequent hunger, and stronger cravings.

I had heard that before, but it didn’t really make sense until I started seeing it in my own life.

One concept that helped me make sense of all of this is something called metabolic flexibility. In simple terms, it’s your body’s ability to switch between using carbohydrates and fat for fuel. I didn’t realize how dependent I was on constant carbs until I wasn’t. Before, going too long without eating felt uncomfortable. Now, it just feels normal.

Over time, I became curious about what was actually happening, not just how I felt. I’ve checked things like blood sugar and ketones here and there, and my labs have reflected the same pattern. My body seems able to move in and out of ketosis fairly easily. If I eat more carbohydrates, I do come out of it, and I can feel the difference. My sleep isn’t as good, and I’m not at my best the next day. But I can usually get back on track quickly without it turning into a cycle of cravings.

Something else that came onto my radar was visceral fat, which is fat stored around the organs rather than just under the skin. It’s not always obvious, but it plays a significant role in metabolic health and is closely tied to insulin resistance and inflammation. I noticed that when my weight crept up a bit, especially after menopause, that was likely increasing as well. That mattered to me, not from a cosmetic standpoint, but from a health standpoint.

The more I’ve learned, the more I’ve been struck by how well the body is designed to adapt and respond—when we stop working against it.

What This Looks Like for Me Now

My approach now is fairly simple. I don’t track everything or aim for perfection. Most days I stay somewhere around 30–50 grams of carbohydrates, focusing on real food—vegetables, some fruit, yogurt, along with proteins and healthy fats. If this is how I’m going to eat long-term, it has to be something I can actually live with.

I allow for some flexibility. If I go out to eat or I’m on a trip, I might go off plan for a meal or even a couple of days. But it doesn’t turn into a free-for-all, and I don’t feel great when I stray too far. If anything, those moments remind me why I feel better the way I normally eat.

I haven’t struggled with my weight to the same degree that some people have, and I know that matters. This has likely been easier for me than it is for others.

But that doesn’t mean my relationship with food was always as balanced as I thought it was.

Growing up, we didn’t have much junk in the house. But the moment I had the freedom to choose, I went straight for it—candy, donuts, whatever I couldn’t have regularly.

And later on… Flamin’ Hot Cheetos definitely had their moment. Probably more than a moment.

I wouldn’t have called it a serious problem at the time, but looking back, I can see that I used food in ways that weren’t really about hunger—comfort, distraction, habit.

And I wasn’t as in control as I thought I was.

At some point, I had to make a decision that food wasn’t going to be in charge anymore.

That doesn’t mean I’ve arrived. I still have moments, especially around other people or at gatherings, where it’s tempting. It’s simply easier at home. And I’ve definitely caught myself talking about what is or isn’t “keto” more than anyone needs to hear. Even as I’m saying it, I’m thinking I should probably stop. That’s something I’m still working on.

What has surprised me most is that this way of eating doesn’t feel restrictive. I don’t walk around thinking about what I can’t have, and I don’t feel deprived. Food just doesn’t have the same pull it used to, and that has been freeing in a quieter, steadier way.

Even if you have no intention of eating this way, it’s worth becoming more aware of how different foods affect your body. Not in an obsessive way, but with a little curiosity. Energy, sleep, hunger, and focus are all signals, and most of us have been taught to ignore them.

You may not have had my experience, but the way our bodies respond to food is more similar than we sometimes think.

I’ll be sharing some of the recipes I’ve found along the way. They won’t be for everyone, and I’m not trying to make converts. But there are some genuinely good options out there that don’t rely on sugar or excess carbohydrates, and they’ve made this feel much more sustainable for me.

A Different Way of Thinking About Food

For me, this goes beyond food.

It’s about stewardship.

I’ve been given a body that has carried me through more than I ever expected. It has endured illness, treatment, stress, and recovery, and it has also shown an incredible ability to heal and adapt. I don’t take that lightly anymore.

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit… therefore honor God with your bodies.” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20)

Not as a heavy rule, but as a reminder. What we’ve been given has value. It’s worth caring for.

I’m not trying to be perfect. I’m not trying to control everything.

But I do want to take better care of what I’ve been given, with more intention, more discipline, and a lot more gratitude than I used to.