I am now two weeks out of my Whole30 and have spent the last hour reading through each of the posts I wrote. From my first post where I wrote, “Heaven help me; it has begun” to likening the Whole30 to “the period of transition before giving birth”, I think it is fairly obvious that I was not entirely gung-ho about the idea. What I knew is that I did not want to stay where I was emotionally, mentally or physically. I wanted to make a life change that would stick.
Day three was my absolute worst. My body was in “full-on, mad-dog detox mode, and I was both figuratively and literally praying for the Whole30 promise that, ‘This, too, shall pass.’” That day proved to be both a physical and mental battle as I spent it rolled up in a ball with a heating pad while nursing my underlying anger.
The roller coaster ride was pretty intense in that first week. Just beyond the anger, came a grieving process. I could not imagine going through life without my favorite foods. I asked myself if it was worth it over and over.