Beyond the Plateau: Reframing Equilibrium — It helps me still

2016 ➡️ 2025. I lost half my weight. The real shift? Naming my shadows and doing the complex work of change—without shortcuts.

Understanding the Power of the Pause in a Weight-Loss Journey

🌿 Finding My Power Through the Strategy of Stillness

Equilibrium is where the body rests and the truth begins to speak.

For almost all my life, I couldn’t keep my weight steady.
It was always a rising tide—slow, relentless, and disheartening.

I would lose weight, then gain it back.
Then gain more.
Again and again.

I didn’t know how to hold steady.
I didn’t know what equilibrium felt like.

Now, I do.

I had to learn how to hold steady in a way I had never done before—
not just with food, but with life.
Because holding steady isn’t passive—it’s a decision.
A form of action I had never known how to take.

What I’ve found is an overall sense of equilibrium—
a rhythm I’ve come to think of as living in the rolling hills.
It’s not flat, and it’s not linear.
It moves gently, and I move with it.

And woven into that terrain are the moments I used to fear:
The dreaded “weight loss plateaus.”

🔁 When I Didn’t Understand Equilibrium

Failure is part of my equilibrium. Failure is a great teacher. I use these ideas still as I continue to maintain my weight loss. To succeed over time, I have had to learn how to fail. Most importantly, that means not throwing in the towel after a failure.

For years, I treated plateaus as failures.
Every time the scale stopped moving, I assumed I had done something wrong.
That I was stuck. Or slipping.

But I hadn’t yet grasped the deeper problem—
the impact of processed foods on my body.

More than that, my foundation was flawed.
I was trying to build something lasting while still trapped in patterns I didn’t fully understand.
So I kept pushing forward, trying harder, doing more—
but the results never held.

✅ When I Started to Understand

As I began removing processed foods, something shifted.
The noise quieted. My body began responding differently.

I started to notice the pauses.
I started to feel steadiness—not just fleeting wins.

I began to recognize moments of equilibrium—
not as plateaus to fear,
but as invitations to pause,
to listen,
to reflect.

Moments of stillness I had never felt before.
Moments I could learn from.

They began teaching me something I had missed for years:
the cause-and-effect relationships between food and how I felt.

The junk food of the standard American diet lit garbage fires in my life. They raged hot and fast—then burned out, leaving me in the cold, dark shadows of myself.Now I feed the slow burn fires of satiation instead—sustainable, steady, and quietly powerful.

Before this, I lived in intense agitation—
a constant, exhausting cacophony in my mind around food.
It drove me to overeat.
It pushed me to binge.
And I never understood why.

But in these new moments of stillness, I found something different.

A glimpse of peace.
A sense of freedom.
The realization that when my internal balances were right,
I no longer went on the prowl for something more.
The noise quieted. The compulsion softened.

And then, unexpectedly, I found something more:
a sensuality of wellness.

Not just physical relief—
but a deep, felt sense of vitality that permeated my entire being.

There was a fullness in clarity, in calm, in simply feeling well.
Days without the foods that once held me captive revealed a richer satisfaction—
not from indulgence, but from alignment.

I started to learn what it meant to truly work with my body instead of against it.
Even when that meant giving up foods I once loved.
Even when it meant saying no to foods that used to drive me, deceive me,
and trick me into acting against my own health.

Because the distortions around weight had infiltrated my mind—
quietly, persistently—until they eventually commanded my life.
And it took time, space, and stillness to begin seeing clearly again.

Because feeling satiation—real, sensual, internal satiation—
is so much better
than being caught in the trap of overeating and binge eating.

These weren’t just layers of equilibrium.
They were truths obscured by shadows I never knew to name.
And now, they were finally coming into the light.

🧭 Three Planned Equilibriums

Equilibrium doesn’t always arrive as a surprise.
Sometimes, it’s a choice.

There were three specific times in my journey when I chose to pause.
Not because things were falling apart—
but because I knew I needed steadiness more than progress.

This was another angle of equilibrium I had never understood before:
not a plateau to endure, but a rhythm to embrace.
A deliberate holding. A conscious stillness.

I wasn’t unraveling.
I was simply tired—of analyzing, correcting, striving.

So I gave myself permission to hold still.
To wait.
To breathe.

Each time felt like a lull, a loss—
sometimes even despair.
But now I see these pauses clearly for what they were:
quiet turning points.
Moments that allowed me to return to the process from a place of strength and clarity.

⚠️ Unplanned Equilibriums That Taught Me More

Not every pause was intentional.
Sometimes I plateaued, just like before.
But I didn’t respond the same way.

One of those pauses led me to cut out salt, oil, and sugar.
I was curious.
I didn’t know what would happen.
But I certainly didn’t know it would tame the chaos.

What I found was peace.
Freedom from food noise.
Stillness in a place that used to feel frenetic.

And yes—my body began releasing weight again.
But not because I was chasing it.
Because I was finally listening.

🧩 Equilibrium as a Strategy

Now, I use equilibrium intentionally.

It’s no longer just something I recognize after the fact.
It’s something I reach for—especially when I feel at risk of losing my footing.
Because equilibrium isn’t standing still—it’s how I keep from slipping.

When the peaks and valleys of myself feel too sharp—
when I sense the build-up that leads to binging,
or the tightening that used to spiral into restriction—
I don’t brace or punish or push through.

Instead, I adjust.

I strive to Eat When Hungry—though I don’t always get it right.
I lived for years with morbid obesity.
Losing half my weight meant learning just how deeply food matters—
and how hunger lives in me. It meant understanding the impact of calorie density, processed foods, plant-based eating, volume, and nutritional diversity.

I shift the calorie density of my meals.
I rebalance the elements of my food—
adding what grounds me, holds me, helps me stay steady.

More volume. More nourishment. More ease.

I use food to support equilibrium, not to chase perfection.
And something happens.

It feels easier—not to self-destruct.
Easier to stay with myself.
Easier to ride the rolling hills without slipping into extremes.

It’s not just about the internal terrain.
It helps me navigate this world—
where unhealthy foods are omnipresent, and false promises are everywhere.

This is how I use equilibrium now.
Not as a result I hope for—
but as a strategy I practice.

✨ If You’re Feeling Stuck...

If you’re in a pause right now—
not moving, not sure, not feeling progress—

Stop.

Take a breath.
And ask yourself:

❓ Is this equilibrium?
❓ What might it be showing me?

Equilibrium can mean different things at different times in a weight loss journey.
It isn’t one moment—it’s a living, evolving state.
Sometimes it means pause.
Sometimes it means progress.
Sometimes it simply means holding steady while the truth rises to the surface.

Reframing equilibrium helped me step off the cycle of losing and regaining.
It helped me stop fearing stillness.
It helped me learn how to live in the rolling hills—
and finally hold steady.

It helps me still.

Check out my free resources about understanding my hunger drive and my plant-based weight loss. I’m on YouTube at Transform Shadows, Facebook at Transform Shadows, and Instagram at transform_shadows. For the most in-depth look at my story, check out my Eat When Hungry series with Dr. Doug Lisle on my Transform Shadows YouTube Channel. Currently, there are 10 episodes available with another in the works.

My Transform Shadows Framework

This is the framework that I use to explain my ongoing mental processes to build successes and handle failures in my health journey and my broader life.

Naming my shadows honestly lives at the foundation of making any change. I have to start from a position of honesty in order to change myself. Being honest about binge eating was particularly challenging for me. Once I accepted that as my reality, I could face it.

Facing my shadows moves me from speaking my truths honestly to acting on these truths. For me, there is a distinct difference between naming and acting — largely because I lived for so long knowing what I should do and not doing anything.

Understanding my shadows allows me to act for success. Misinformation about health, wellness, and weight loss permeate society. A big part of my journey includes the process of uprooting misinformation. Understandings that I can feel from inside of me help the most.

Fighting my shadows centers the ongoing battles of working against my instincts and the constant pressures for unhealthy living from the world around me. Some days, the fight runs deep in what feels like a losing battle. Giving up was my action of choice for way too long. The verb nerd in me now centers action verbs – actions that have positive results.

Reframing my shadows redefines how I understand and perceive ideas, actions, and myself. I have learned to love foods I used to hate. I understand hunger and eating when hungry differently in myself. Learning to see myself, foods, and concepts in new ways has empowered me.

Transcending my shadows describes the state of living where all the changes seem effortless, normal, and natural. In this phase, I wonder how I could ever struggle. Perhaps most importantly, I feel a sensuality of wellness that permeates all aspects of my life. And, I always want to come back when I leave this wonderful place.