The Gift of Aging: From Self-Criticism to Self-Love
Today, I have a completely different relationship with my body. I eat moderately and healthily, move mindfully and vigorously at least once a week, sleep a minimum of seven hours or catch up when needed, and dance to the rhythm of my own drum. My skincare products are a collection of gifts received for special occasions, things that make me feel good inside and out.
But it wasn’t always this way.
At six or seven years old, someone told me I’d be fat like my mom and aunt. My mom, a public figure in Montenegro, was often criticized for her weight despite her eloquence and beauty. People told me she needed to lose weight, and I internalized their judgment. My aunt, grieving the loss of her firstborn, also struggled with weight, though I only came to understand this as an adult.
As a child, I subconsciously wished they were thinner so I wouldn’t have to endure strangers’ comments. By the time I was 13, I was obsessed with not being fat. My body, however, didn’t seem to cooperate. Summers by the Adriatic Sea would slim me down, but winters brought the weight back—this cycle became how I measured time.
At 17, as an exchange student in the U.S., I encountered a diet of sugary cereals and peanut butter, a far cry from my usual habits. To assimilate, I joined family dinners at 6 PM, but the change in routine caused significant weight gain. My carefully curated wardrobe no longer fit, and I felt lost in my body. Even my mother, visiting that spring, was shocked by my appearance. Her comments, though well-meaning, only deepened my shame.
When I moved to New York City for college, the fast-paced lifestyle helped me shed the weight, but my internal struggle continued. I fell into cycles of dieting and binging, which spiraled into bulimia for a decade. The secrecy and shame were suffocating, and I begged for relief in every journal entry. But help seemed out of reach—everything cost money I didn’t have.
In 2005, when I was ready to give up, a friend introduced me to Landmark. While it wasn’t about healing, it reframed my perspective, showing me I could radically change my life. From there, I began gathering tools: Reiki, yoga, meditation, and studies in brain science, female leadership, and ancestral healing. Each step helped me reclaim my power.
Though I wasn’t fully healed during my pregnancies, I thank God every day for my sons’ health. Over time, I’ve come to see myself as a vessel for their lives, doing the best I could with the tools I had. As I’ve gained more tools, I’ve done even better.
Today, I celebrate my body for bringing me to this moment—the youngest I’ll ever be again. I care for it so it can host my spirit and allow it to create and thrive. I sleep, walk, eat well, and exercise, not out of punishment but as an act of love. My healthy, balanced lifestyle is a testament to overcoming years of struggle, and for that, I’m profoundly grateful.
Overcoming addictive behaviors has made me deeply empathetic. I see patterns in others without judgment and connect with their spirit, supporting their body and mind to align with it. Beneath my struggles was anxiety—a fear of something that hadn’t happened yet. I’ve learned I don’t have to run from it. I can breathe through it, feel it, and release it. For this, I’m thankful to Regena Thomashauer, the School of Womanly Arts, and the sisters in that community who modeled body acceptance.
My body has served me well—it birthed two beautiful boys, nursed them for nearly three years, and brought me to where I am today. That’s why I embrace my aging beauty. I nourish my skin with good products and celebrate the gift of aging, knowing every line tells a story of resilience.
Thank you for witnessing my reclamation story. I invite you to reflect on your own relationship with your body: How has it served you? What would it look like to honor it as a vessel for your spirit? If this story resonated, I’d love to hear your reflections.
