When discipline stopped feeling supportive
For many years, my health journey was shaped by long-term keto and regular fasting.
I didn’t arrive there casually. I studied it. I taught it. I lived it.
Like many women, I experienced real benefits — improved blood sugar stability, mental clarity around food, and a sense of confidence that came from structure and consistency.
For a season, it worked.
But bodies aren’t static.
And neither are seasons.
When something subtle started to feel off
The first signs weren’t dramatic.
There was no health crisis.
No sudden breakdown.
No obvious “reason” to change.
Instead, it was a collection of quieter signals that were easy to dismiss — until they weren’t.
I noticed:
- A constant underlying tension around food choices
- Hunger that didn’t fully resolve, even when I ate “enough”
- Increasing rigidity — not just in what I ate, but in how safe change felt
- A sense that staying in ketosis required ongoing vigilance rather than ease
I was still doing everything right.
But my body wasn’t at ease.
Where new questions began to form
Around this time, I found myself listening more closely to voices outside the strict low-carb world — particularly Dr John McDougall and Chef AJ, both of whom teach about calorie density and long-term sustainability.
Their work didn’t prompt an immediate change.
But it did introduce new questions.
They spoke about how whole, unrefined carbohydrates — foods like potatoes, rice, bread, pasta, and fruit — have nourished populations for generations without the metabolic chaos we often associate with them today. They also challenged the idea that fat, even plant-based fat, is metabolically neutral when it comes to appetite regulation and energy balance.
What struck me most wasn’t just the science.
It was how calm and unafraid their relationship with food appeared to be.
Menopause, nourishment, and confronting my fear of carbs
At the same time, I was also reading Dr Mindy Pelz’s book Age Like a Girl, where she encourages women — particularly in perimenopause and menopause — to reintroduce more root vegetables and tubers to support hormones, metabolism, and long-term health.
This advice didn’t feel radical.
But it was revealing.
Because it highlighted something I could no longer ignore:
I had begun to fear all carbohydrates.
Rice felt unsafe.
Bread felt reckless.
Pasta felt like something to “recover from.”
Fruit — apart from berries — felt indulgent rather than nourishing.
These weren’t foods I’d ever struggled with before.
And yet, somewhere along the way, they had shifted from being food to being threats.
Not because they harmed me —
but because I didn’t trust myself to eat them without gaining weight.
That realisation stopped me in my tracks.
Hunger, restriction, and the cost of vigilance
Alongside that fear, another truth became harder to ignore.
Despite careful planning, adequate protein, and strict adherence to all the “right” principles, I was often hungry — and not in a clean, straightforward way.
Meals met macronutrient targets, but they didn’t satisfy me deeply.
As someone who naturally leans plant-based, relying on animal protein to manage appetite felt increasingly misaligned — physically, emotionally, and ethically.
Food had become something to manage rather than something that settled me.
And that’s when I began to wonder whether what I was calling discipline was actually metabolic stress.
Discipline versus metabolic stress
Discipline is often praised in health culture — and rightly so. Structure, consistency, and restraint can be powerful tools.
But discipline becomes something else when it requires the body to override its signals for extended periods of time.
Long-term restriction — even when intentional and well-managed — can gradually create:
- Elevated stress hormones
- A nervous system that stays alert rather than settling
- Hunger cues that become muted or confusing
- A persistent sense of pushing rather than partnering with the body
This isn’t failure.
It’s physiology.
And especially for women in midlife, the line between discipline and metabolic stress can become thinner than we realise.
Why this wasn’t a failure
One of the hardest parts of changing something that once worked is the story we tell ourselves about why we’re changing.
It’s easy to assume:
- “I must have lost my discipline.”
- “I should be able to make this work.”
- “If I change now, it means I did it wrong before.”
None of those were true.
What I was experiencing wasn’t weakness.
It was information.
My body was asking for something different — not because keto or fasting are inherently harmful, but because my needs had changed.
Listening to that isn’t quitting.
It’s responding.
Learning to eat carbohydrates without fear
This shift wasn’t about swinging from one extreme to another.
It was about learning how to:
- include carbohydrates without panic
- eat starch without losing metabolic stability
- nourish my body while still respecting weight, hormones, and long-term health
That curiosity led me toward exploring a whole-food, starch-based approach, with less fasting and more regular nourishment — not as a new identity or rigid framework, but as an experiment in trust.
If you’re reading this and recognising yourself
If part of you resonates — and another part feels uneasy — that makes sense.
Many women who have been “good at restriction” struggle most with change. Not because they lack discipline, but because they’ve learned to trust rules more than signals.
If you’re here because:
- What once worked no longer feels supportive
- You fear carbohydrates but miss feeling nourished
- You want metabolic health without constant vigilance
You’re not alone.
And you’re not doing anything wrong.
This wasn’t about giving up — it was about listening.
Listening to my body.
Listening to hunger.
Listening to the quiet truth that nourishment needed to feel safer, warmer, and less negotiated than it had become.
In the next post, I’ll share what happened in the very first days of this transition — the scale changes, the bloating, the panic, and the steadying realisations that followed.
Not to scare you.
But to normalise what often goes unspoken.
Are you ready to learn more about The McDougall Program?
Go to Post 2: What is the McDougall Starch Solution
