What my post-partum body taught me: Point of View

I grew up not trusting my mirror. 

Even as a 10-year-old, I had somehow internalized the idea that image is a currency, and how other people see you matters. I was a healthy and active kid, but I remember worrying, "I think I look OK, but how do other people see me?"

When I went to university, I desperately wanted to avoid the "freshman 15," so I started hitting the treadmill. I viewed myself as disciplined, while the fear behind my behaviour went unexamined. 

In my early 20s I was working out three to four days a week — despite a 40-minute commute each way to the gym — and I was making 95 per cent of my meals at home. I viewed myself as hard-working and healthy. Again, the fear behind my behaviours went unchecked. 

I started to surround myself with people who oozed self-confidence and placed a premium on inner beauty.

I saw my body as parts to be edited, and took selfies thinking, 'I'd be happy with my stomach if I lost five more pounds.'— Kailea Switzer

I was happy and comfortable and I loosened my grip on some of my rules for exercise and meal prep. Between patio beers, a job that involved significant travel, and simply coming into my adult body, I gained five to 10 pounds. 

I wasn't concerned about — or really aware of — the weight gain, until someone made a passing comment about it. I snapped right back into that 10-year-old kid looking in the mirror, except this time, the mirror was saying, "You don't look as good as you think you do, and the way you look is actually a problem."

'Am I small enough now?'

As I became determined to lose the weight, I became probably the unhealthiest I've ever been. I bought a scale, started counting calories and keeping a food log. 

My dinner of choice was a plain chicken breast and broccoli. I quit the gym that offered the dance, weight training and yoga classes that I truly enjoyed and started long-distance running.

I bought smaller clothes, and yet never felt small enough. Despite the compliments I was receiving — or maybe because of them — a voice inside me constantly wondered, "Am I small enough now?" 

I was measuring my health by the frequency and intensity of my workouts, how "clean" I was eating, and whether my efforts were being rewarded by a smaller dress size. 

An impossible standard

My next move was to study counselling. In doing so, I learned that my thoughts and behaviours often fell to the disordered and dysmorphic side of the spectrum. I started going to personal counselling and worked to heal some of these patterns.

I learned to exercise from a place of enjoyment and self-love, and to eat with a mindset of moderation, where nothing is considered bad or off limits. 

I grew so much during this time, but I still had several blind spots. I saw my body as parts to be edited, and took selfies thinking, "I'd be happy with my stomach if I lost five more pounds." 

I hated that I could prioritize my fitness with such consistent discipline — high-intensity workouts five or six days per week, hours spent meal prepping, plus two hours of walking most days — and still feel like my body didn't reflect my efforts. 

I had made fitness such an intentional part of my life that it became part of my identity, and not being recognized for it made me feel unseen — or perhaps, more accurately, made it feel unsafe to be seen as I was.

Finding freedom

And then we decided to have a baby. 

Once my bump popped, it was freedom in my body like I'd never experienced. I worked out because I wanted to and with gentle loving care for my baby and myself. I ate what felt right and I was truly comfortable in my skin.

Even after giving birth, I was on a euphoric body high for about three months. I felt like I was in a judgment-free zone.

But after three months, I felt the pressure seep back in. The idea that I should have "bounced back" was constantly in my mind. 

I had a wake-up call when I stumbled across an old picture from when I had been at the peak of my personal fitness. I had "achieved" my body goals at that time, but I still hadn't been satisfied.

I realized it was time for me to bring more self-love and self-acceptance into my life to help myself and to protect my daughter from my unhealthy beliefs. I went back to counselling. 

What my post-partum body taught me

My counsellor asked me, "What actually is the goal of eating well and exercising?"

"To feel good on a daily basis and to promote long-term health — whoa, I'm already succeeding at that!" I answered.

I had been so concerned about how having a baby would damage my body, but had never considered how it might heal me instead. 

I hope my daughter will find joy in movement and not view exercise as a means to an end. I want her to relish her meals, with no caveat that they need to be worked off. I want her to practise self-kindness and self-compassion.

I want her to know her body is not a problem to be fixed, and that she is always enough, just as she is. 

I want her to speak kindly to herself and about others, and recognize that no body type in the world is a ticket to inner peace. It is, and has always been, an inside job.

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