Intuitive Eating-The Ultimate Power Tool


I am a big fan of intuition. As a practicing psychiatrist, I couldn’t do my job without a healthy dose of intuition. My neuroscientist friends call this “right brain” activity- the part of the brain that houses creative thinking, subjective thought, big-picture thinking. The opposite side, or “left brain” activity is where your more rational, logical, linear thought patterns live. Using this simplified version of neuroanatomy 101, if you came to see me as a patient, my left brain would be doing all of those logical, left brain, traditional physician behaviors, like taking your history, doing a mental status examination, determining your diagnosis, and then presenting you with options for medications, therapy, and other treatments. But at the same time, my right brain would be looking at your non-verbal language as you tell your story, your posture, your subtle changes in emotion. And sometimes I will know to ask you a question that absolutely is the key question to ask you, and it might completely change the treatment plan in a different direction. Sometimes I just “know” things. I am intuitive. My intuition is part of what makes me a good doctor. However, I would NEVER rely on my intuition as sole method of treating my patients. I rely on my entire toolbox of tools to help my patients heal. You might say that I teach my patients to acquire and assemble their own toolbox full of tools to handle whatever problems they might have.

My own journey from extreme obesity to a healthy weight required me to assemble my own toolbox of tools. And yes, I had my team of professionals helping me along the way—a therapist, a dietician, more than a few coaches and trainers, fit friends who walked the journey before me, and sports medicine doctors, just to name a few. Throughout my decade-long journey from obesity to health, I learned to use a variety of tools. Some of them are clearly left brain activities, like tracking my intake, output, and measurements, taking monthly pictures and assessing the change, weighing my food in grams, measuring my heart rate data, and calculating my running paces. Others are definitely right brain activities-connecting emotions to certain foods, or using my intuition to help me decide why I had an insatiable craving for chocolate when my stress levels were high.

I have come to believe that intuitive eating is a learned skill. Like any skill, some people just get it easily, naturally and without hassle. Other people (like me) have to work hard to acquire that skill. In fact, intuitive eating has been such a difficult skill for me to master, that I have considered it a “power tool” for me. Let me explain.

When I was learning how to scull, I wanted to start out in the long, skinny boats—I would watch the experienced rowers, and would marvel at how beautiful they looked in those tiny little narrow boats. From a distance, they looked like giant silver, black and red needles, slicing their way through the Halifax River at sunrise. They made it look so easy and effortless, and I wanted to be just like them. But I didn’t want to spend the necessary time building the skills. I just wanted to launch off the dock and effortlessly row myself into the sunrise-all balanced and poised, strong and confident, maybe even intuitive.
I clearly remember the first time I ever sat in a shell. Lucky for me, it wasn’t one of the long, skinny needles, it was a big, clunky, wide yellow beginner boat. Had I been in one of the needles, I surely would have launched myself right into the drink instead of off the dock into the sunrise. Before I even took my very first stroke, I realized how difficult it was even to stay stationary in the water. It took many lessons of intense left brain study to learn the coordination required to balance the boat, move the oars in the right direction, move my body in a way that powered the oars--legs-back-arms-arms-back-legs. And while doing that, you are feathering the oars down-up-down-up. Kind of like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. For a bit, I had to constantly repeat the sequences in my left brain. Legs-back-arms-down-up. The coach had to correct me. A lot. Soon the creative right brain was able to take over. My mind and body began to intuitively learn the rhythm. Instead of focusing on the left brain chatter, I started feeling the power of my stroke as I propelled myself down the mighty Halifax, negotiating my way through the tight pillars of the Seabreeze bridge, maintaining my position as I navigated the boat wakes from the larger yachts.

I had become a rower. By the time I was ready to graduate to the needle boats, my stroke felt natural, normal, effortless and intuitive. I clearly remember when one of my fellow rowing classmates and I were out for an early morning row. It was one of those perfect water days-flat and calm, no wind, and only the occasional small fishing boat. I took the opportunity to work out hard-I effortlessly launched my silver needle toward the sliver of rising sun, and powered my way down the Halifax. I had a glorious row, the rising sun, the fishing birds, the faint smell of the ocean in the distance. I noticed that my classmate stayed far behind me, but I could tell he was fine. As I returned to the dock, I felt worn out and spent from the hard effort. My classmate’s first words to me upon his return were “wow, I tried hard to stay with you, but you were just moving, you are a really strong athlete.” Coming from an ex-college rugby player, his words meant a lot to me. I had become an intuitive rower. Power and strength are important, but at the end of the day, technique rules. And my intuitive flow on the water didn’t just happen the first time I put myself in a shell. It happened after much left brain angst. Before I was capable of handling the silver needle power tool, I had to learn with the safe yellow basic model.

And so it has been with intuitive eating. I can’t tell you how many times I tried on intuitive eating for size throughout my journey, and landed myself firmly in the drink. Except the drink in this case wasn’t the mighty Halifax, it was the mighty weight gain. Sometimes only 5 pounds. Sometimes 25 pounds. As I look back on those times, I see a pattern. I was trying to use the power tool before I learned how to use the basic beginner model. For me, intuitive eating is an advanced concept, an advanced skill. Early in my journey, it was just too easy to convince myself that I intuitively needed more chocolate or peanut butter.

I have recently completed a two month experiment again with intuitive eating. I am thrilled to report that I maintained my weight without any tracking, weighing or measuring. All of those left brain skills seem to be flowing seamlessly over to my right brain, and I appear to be navigating the river of maintenance with ease. I am officially capable of using the power tool. But here’s the catch- life doesn’t always have smooth, glassy water to row. Even though I was capable of piloting that silver needle, there were days when the rough ocean tides spilled over into the Halifax, causing some challenging swells. On those days, I retreated to the safety of my big, wide, yellow boat-the perfect tool for the job.

I would like to think that I can live most of my days as an intuitive eater. It just feels right. It certainly takes less time. But I would be foolish to totally abandon all of the tools that brought me to the place I am in today. I am not ashamed to go back to my beginner skills anytime I need them. They are always there for me in my toolbox.

In my work with others who are undergoing major body transformations, I notice that some people are scared to ever try feeding themselves differently. They stay locked in the skills that brought them success. They believe that they could never become an intuitive eater. Sometimes I notice the opposite problem, people who are absolutely convinced that intuitive eating is the only way recover from a lifetime of restrictive dieting, and that any attempt to weigh, measure or track is somehow a personal failure.

The most successful weight managers I know move effortlessly across these techniques depending on life’s numerous variables. Have you noticed that you are afraid to leave the safety of your carefully calculated plan? Or perhaps you are someone, like me, who longed to be an intuitive eater, but who didn’t have the patience to learn some of those boring, tedious left brain steps prior to firing up the power tool. Wherever you are in your journey, consider building your own toolbox. Chances are, when the rough waters of life come lapping up the side of your boat, you will have the right tool for the job.