I just returned from a few days of exquisite nature and body-positive nurturing in Anchorage, Alaska, with the Alaska Eating Disorders Alliance. Over the course of the trip, I spent eight hours training therapists and other helping professionals from across the state, another six talking with families about building body confidence at home, and spotted five moose in Kincaid Park after a breathtaking shore-trail bike ride. The moose left me speechless—majestic creatures, intuitively grazing on leaves. And then there was the ride itself: my host and I, two tired moms in our 40s, opted for e-bikes to make the 17-mile trip more accessible. Our little-girl squeals were completely uncontrollable as we played with the scooter feature and zoomed up the hills. Whoever said movement doesn’t “count” if it’s not hard or punishing has clearly never noted the mental and physical health benefits of laughter, connection, and just being in the outdoors.
And yet, of all the marvelous adventures I had, the most restorative part might have been the 72-hours of caring for no one but myself. No meals to plan. No “yuck, I’m not eating that!” No pit in my stomach over school social dynamics. No sibling squabbles to referee. No explosive feelings to contain. Just a rare break from the family-emotion matrix: my feelings, their feelings, and the mess in between…