Chapter Five of Journey Back to Health may be the most important chapter in the entire book. If habit-building is the structure of healing, then your “why” is the foundation underneath it.

In this episode, I share why I sometimes regret placing this chapter so far into the book. Because the truth is, without a deeply rooted reason to change, habits don’t stick. Willpower fades. Motivation runs out. Energy fluctuates. But a strong why can carry you through the hardest days.

Growing up, I watched my mother live with chronic illness. Around the age of eleven, I became largely independent because she simply did not have the capacity or energy to parent in the ways she may have wanted to. That experience rooted something deep inside of me.

So when I became sick myself — navigating brain fog, adrenal fatigue, autoimmune disorders, inflammation, and overwhelming exhaustion — I had to confront a hard truth. I had two young children. And I did not want to be a sick mom.

My “why” became clear: I did not want to tell my children I didn’t have the energy to play. I didn’t want them to feel like they were a burden because I was too exhausted to meet their needs.

That clarity allowed me to make massive changes. For two years, I removed coffee, caffeine, sugar, dairy, and chocolate. I navigated elimination diets. I detoxed. I rebuilt my digestive system. Not because it was easy — but because my why was stronger than the discomfort.

This chapter invites you to do the same work.

One of the exercises is writing a list of what your healthiest self would be able to do. For me, chronic illness stole my physical life. I couldn’t hike. I couldn’t ride my bike. Rock climbing — something that once recharged me — became impossible during flare-ups. Inflammation in my hips made walking feel excruciating.

So I wrote those things down. Hike again. Ride my bike. Rock climb. Read books without brain fog. Stand in the shower long enough to wash my hair. Cook a meal without collapsing from exhaustion.

These weren’t grand dreams. They were basic functions of living. And writing them down gave me something to hold onto on the hardest days.

This chapter also emphasizes building a support team. Healing cannot happen in isolation. Sometimes that support comes from friends or family. Sometimes it comes from professionals — therapists, coaches, practitioners. Not everyone close to you will immediately understand your journey. That’s okay. Find the people who have the capacity to hold what you’re carrying.

And then — reach out. That’s the action step. Tell someone what you’re doing. Tell them why.

Right now, I’m facing new challenges. After not being able to hold down my green drink recently, morning nausea has intensified again. My mind wants to spiral into fear — telling me I’ll never get past this.

But I’m reminding myself: healing isn’t linear. Rewiring decades of mental chatter about worthiness, nourishment, and safety takes time. It’s more than one habit. It’s unlearning stories.

So I’m revisiting my why. I don’t want to give up. And neither should you.

Be gentle with yourself. Stay rooted in your reason. And remember — the foundation matters.