About Me

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been in motion. I discovered my love for athletics early on, participating in organized competitive sports throughout my childhood and into high school. Even now, my hunger to compete is only satiated through workouts in the gym and an occasional pickleball tournament.  

After getting married and becoming pregnant, I struggled with self-image. I longed to look like the athletes I admired—fit, trim, and confident. Not knowing how to get there, I cycled through diets and programs, each one ending in disappointment, and even struggled with disordered eating. I prayed for help, sometimes wondering if caring about my appearance was vain or unworthy. I searched the scriptures, pored over the Word of Wisdom, desperate for guidance. I’d give up sugar, only to binge and then berate myself, praying for forgiveness and vowing to do better the next day. I would eat by portion control, track calories, and follow cut-and-paste programs, and wonder why it wasn’t sustainable.

I determined that I would never be one of those women with a toned body and ripped muscles. Ironically, I looked fit; maybe you couldn’t see my abs or my triceps, but I was strong and worked hard. I was an athlete and looked the part, yet my goal eluded me, and the unease of that was too hard to bear, so I buried it.

I was spiritually, emotionally, and physically drained. For years—decades, even—I fought this fight. I finally decided to let go of my obsession with food and eat what I wanted, when I wanted. I accepted that I might never have visible muscles, but I could still be strong and fit.

For over five years, I worked out at the gym at 5 a.m. with Kelcey, six days a week, lifting heavy and pushing myself. I saw some results and felt strong, but I was often exhausted, bloated, and uncomfortable throughout the day. I struggled with what I suspect was IBS, never having consistent energy or digestion.

Despite all my effort in the gym, I ate whatever I wanted, never saying no, and often felt pressured to eat at social events just to fit in. This took a toll on my system. I was prone to levels of stress that affected my mental health. I couldn’t deny that my nutrition consisted of high doses of sugar and saturated fats, which contributed to my intense mood swings, low energy, and overall feelings of defeat.

I hated conversations about food or diets because it was often a trigger and would tempt me to start obsessing again. Eating without reservation helped me avoid these conversations. No one asks or talks about food if you eat what everyone else is eating. I would fast and pray for peace–to be able to let go and be content with where I was. And it served me for a time. However, in the back of my mind was a question–a discomfort I couldn’t shake. It plagued me, and despite my work ethic in the gym, I was a glutton outside of it, and my spirit knew something needed to change. Yet, I worried about my past experiences; food had a power over me that chiseled away at my soul.

I knew I wasn’t in alignment, but I didn’t understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I buried myself in His Word, tried to live as He would have me live, fulfilled my callings, and tried to fill my not-enoughness with obedience and temple attendance. My attitude wasn’t always Christlike when doing these things, but consistency has always been my strength. I trusted in His promises–in the covenants I’ve made. Most of this effort didn’t even surround nutrition or my body. But I showed up day in and day out, trying to learn from the Savior and understand how the atonement applied to me and my life.

Nutrition had faded to the back of my mind, buried by pain and unachieved goals that I had no desire to resurface. I had resigned myself to forced contentedness. It was either that or disordered eating in my mind. So, I had settled into and accepted where I was. I simply did the “things”—exercised every day, listened to uplifting podcasts, studied my scriptures, journaled, prayed, and strived to be the person God would want me to be. Then, one day, while working in the yard, sweating in the hot sun, and listening to a podcast, I heard a woman share a story similar to mine. The transformation that followed when she made a conscious decision to eat with purpose transformed me; a fire ignited and burned the mindset I'd had for decades.

I realized that discipline is a choice, and I could choose my version of “hard.” I could keep doing what I’d always done and feel stuck, or I could make sacrifices, plan, prepare, and say no when needed to achieve what I truly wanted. I was accountable for MY choices. My body was unique, but there was a formula that I knew worked. I realized I had been unwilling to go ALL in—living split, disciplined at home but indulgent in crowds, trying to please others while chasing my own goals. It was like serving two masters, never fully aligned with my soul.

People don’t live my life, have my thoughts or passions, often won’t understand my dreams or desires, my intensity or drive, and they don’t care about my results. But I do! I care, and Heavenly Father cares. He knows what I want and how to get me there. And He knew EXACTLY what I needed. He understood my weakness and my pain better than I did. And He understood the question that sat in the back of my mind.

My daily, consistent, disciplined effort—both physically and spiritually—was preparing me for this moment of revelation. With piercing clarity, a holy fire burning through all my excuses, I chose. I was ALL IN. Not a “start again Monday” promise, not a fleeting burst of willpower—this was forever. I no longer cared how long the path would take, only that I would walk it, every step, with Him.

I chose to track macros, weighing, and measuring protein, carbohydrates, and fat according to my body’s needs. It was not and would never be again a cookie-cutter, one-size-fits-all program. I have been teaching myself about balanced nutrition with a set of boundaries that keep me accountable. My earlier experiences gave me an understanding of what keeps me feeling satiated and full. Those earlier efforts weren’t failures; they were part of my preparation and taught me powerful lessons.

I don’t eat at a deficit but at maintenance–slow progression and sustainable energy are my goals. My eyes were opened in a moment of clarity, but it took decades to have that singular moment. The changes in my body have been notable, but more importantly, I feel better, I’m not bloated, I don’t feel deprived, and I'm at peace. I’m okay with saying no, and I’ve stopped caring what others think. My desire for change outweighs any fear of standing out, not always, but I lean into Christ when I'm scared or unsure. My relationship with Him and my understanding of the spirit-body connection have become a sacred covenant within me, aligning every choice with eternal purpose, strength, and unwavering courage.

This journey has taught me that the discipline I apply in the gym is the same discipline I need in the kitchen, in life, and in my faith. I know the conviction to change didn’t come from me alone. It took decades to reach the place where I was ready for what Heavenly Father had already set in motion—a trajectory meticulously prepared for me, perfectly timed. He has never been anywhere but by my side, empowering me to succeed while gently teaching lessons that could only be learned through the painful and often overwhelming struggles I faced.

Resilience means facing challenges that could derail me, but choosing to stay consistent and focused, knowing I don’t have to do it alone. Leaning into the Savior, especially when I feel weak, gives me strength. I’ve learned that spiritual and physical resilience go hand in hand; we must develop both.

I see many women struggling with the same things I have: disordered eating, self-esteem, lack of confidence, fear of standing out, and a longing for something more. They want to build a stronger testimony, a powerful body, and stand for truth, even when it’s scary. I’ve learned tools to overcome these struggles, and I feel called to share them.

Witnessing the adversary’s efforts to destroy hope and draw us into despair has only strengthened my resolve. I refuse to let him win. I feel called to be a voice for truth, to share my testimony, and to teach that repentance is not punishment but freedom—and that our bodies are the vehicles that help us live fully and faithfully. Boundaries create freedom, and I want to help others discover that.

Women today are fighting battles on every front—family, marriage, faith, and personal fears about the future. My hope is that by building spiritual resilience, physical discipline, and unwavering faith, we can face these fears together, stand firm in our convictions, and embrace the fullness of who we are called to be.

If you are ready to step into your strength, deepen your faith, and align your body, mind, and spirit, I invite you to join me on this journey. Together, we can rise, stand firm, and shine as women consecrated to truth, purpose, and divine potential.

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