How I Healed Chronic Illness, PTSD, and Depression Without Medication
The Truth About Food, Spellwork, and Self-Talk
📸 Before You Scroll: Look at Both of Me
Left: Hiding.
Right: Healing.
Same body. New story.
Both beautiful. Only one free.
This isn’t a “before and after.”
It’s a becoming.
I used to wear hoodies like armor. Walked through the world like a protest site. I wasn’t looking for compliments—I was looking for relief. I had already clocked in more ER visits than birthdays:
💉 Morphine. 💊 Topiramate. 💉 Steroids. Another prescription. Another shrug.
Doctors said: “You’ll just have to manage it.”
My body said: “I’m not surviving this.”
At the time, I was 235 lbs—but the weight was never the problem.
I was carrying:
Fibromyalgia
Cluster suicide headaches
PTSD
Bulimia
IBS
Hives
Insomnia
Depression so deep I forgot what happiness felt like
I looked fine. But I didn’t feel good. Not once.
Not in my bones. Not in my belly. Not in my mind.
I didn’t know what “energy” felt like.
I didn’t know what “joy” felt like.
I was surviving. And that survival came at a cost.
And still—she was beautiful.
The version of me in that photo?
She was hurting. But she was tough.
She carried me through.
And now I carry her memory with gratitude.
She held the line until I was ready to rise.
🖤 I wasn’t lazy. I wasn’t broken. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
That photo on the right? That wasn’t me “getting my life back.”
That was me stepping out of hiding. Peeling off the armor.
Letting myself be seen—still 235 lbs. Just no longer invisible.
It wasn’t a weight loss.
It was a frequency shift.
✨ That’s what it looks like when pain becomes purpose.
✨ That’s what it looks like when smoothies become sermons.
✨ That’s what it looks like when your body says: “Finally.”
The Pills Didn’t Work
They called me “treatment resistant.”
But I wasn’t resistant. I was listening.
Every med they gave me turned my body into a warning sign:
Suicidal spirals
Brain fog like wet cement
Rage I couldn’t explain
Numb patches, cold sweats
A sex drive that ghosted me
Dry mouth, twitching limbs, no sleep, no peace
I wasn’t non-compliant. I wasn’t dramatic.
I was aware.
And my body kept whispering, then screaming:
“This is not the way.”
Food Was the First Spell
So I tried something wild.
I opened the fridge like a spellbook.
Not a new pill. Not another doctor.
Just real food. From the earth. Without a barcode.
🌱 Whole food. Plant-based. Earth-fed. Soul-approved.
And my body?
She finally exhaled.
What Happened Next:
Pain began to fade
Inflammation melted like frost in sunlight
Sleep came easier
Digestion found rhythm
Skin cleared up
Brain fog lifted
Cravings vanished
Mood leveled out
Energy returned
And yes—weight released like it had somewhere else to be
🛒 The grocery store became my pharmacy.
🔥 My kitchen turned into a sacred altar.
✨ And for the first time in my life—I ate like I was worth feeding.
Quote for your altar:
"If the body’s the altar, food is the spell. Most of us have been cursed by corn syrup and cow’s milk since birth."
Self-Talk Was the Second Cure
Food lit the candle.
But it was self-talk that kept it burning.
Even after the pain faded, I was still haunted by one ghost:
Me.
The worst thing I consumed wasn’t sugar or soda—it was my own voice.
❌ “I suck.”
❌ “I’ll never get better.”
❌ “I’m just too much.”
❌ “People always hurt me.”
❌ “I wish I could disappear.”
I wouldn’t say those things to a child.
But I let them loop in my head like a cursed lullaby.
What I Let Go:
Doomscrolling
Shows that made my nervous system flinch
People who drained my spark
Conversations that left me hollow
The internal bully who stole my mornings
What I Learned to Say:
“This voice is not mine.”
“I deserve peace without apology.”
“My body is not a problem. It’s a prayer.”
Molting Moment: Banishing the Inner Bully
📝 Try this:
Write down the cruelest thing your brain ever whispered about your body.
Say it out loud—feel how foreign it sounds when spoken.
Now say:
“This is not my truth. This was a survival script. I release it now.”
Now write what you needed to hear.
Let that become your next lullaby.
Repeat as needed.
Quote for your mirror:
"If the voice in your head talked to your best friend like that, you’d throw hands. So maybe throw compassion instead."
For the Ones Still in It
If you’re curled up at 2AM, scrolling for something softer than survival...
Let this page be your flashlight.
🖤 You are not broken. You are molting.
🖤 You are not weak. You are awakening.
🖤 You are not behind. You are becoming.
You don’t need to overhaul your life tonight.
You don’t need a blueprint or a breakthrough.
But maybe—
🥄 Try the smoothie.
📺 Watch the cooking show.
💌 Whisper something kind.
🫀 Let someone hold the blender while you breathe.
✨ Because the way you speak to your body is a spell—and it casts itself back through every cell.
