I never set out to follow Banting or go low-carb. In fact, I didn’t even know what it was. My journey into that world wasn’t about losing weight or “getting healthy”—it was pure survival.
In 2013, my life was a high-stress storm. A massive work project had me running on adrenaline, and my cat, Heathcliff, became critically ill. Pneumonia. Then an abscess on his lung. No pet insurance. The surgery costs were brutal, but Heathcliff had saved me once, and I wasn’t about to give up on him. Through the kindness of friends and strangers, I raised the funds. We got through it—but I paid the price physically. I stopped eating. A few bites of All-Bran was my daily intake. My body withered under the weight of grief and stress.
That’s when my mother introduced me to Tim Noakes and the Real Food Revolution. Whole foods. No sugar. No grains. I figured it was a good way to maintain my new (and unintentional) weight loss. Soon, I was weighing myself daily, chasing a number on a scale. It became addictive. Thus began a 10+ year affair with Banting.
The Highs: Energy and Confidence
At first, the benefits were undeniable. I had energy like never before. I exercised—something I’d never done willingly. My clothes fit better. My meals were neat little protein parcels: ham and cheese with mayo, tuna salads, perfectly roasted chicken. I loved how my body looked.
But like any toxic relationship, it started sweet… until it wasn’t.
When “Healthy” Turns Harmful
What began as a way to feel better spiraled into a full-blown eating disorder. I became obsessed. I was afraid of food. I skipped meals, told people I’d already eaten, took diuretics, over-exercised, and agonized over everything I consumed—including coffee. I believed if I could stay in control, I’d be safe. But I wasn’t.
I believe this obsession was part of what triggered my MS. My body was starving. I was malnourished. I was punishing myself. Eventually, it caught up with me.
Confidence Lost, Not Found
Ironically, the thinner I got, the more self-conscious I became. People praised my appearance, but they didn’t see the anxiety, the fear, the lies. I couldn’t eat out without panicking. I was constantly explaining my “diet.” But the truth is, I was sick—physically, emotionally, and socially isolated.
Why I’m Done with Low-Carb (For Good)
I stuck to low-carb for over a decade. Occasionally, I’d cheat with a slice of cake or a cocktail, but for the most part, I stayed strict. Then came the pandemic and two major MS flares—one that affected my mobility, and the other, my eyesight. Steroid treatments caused rapid weight gain. I gained 20kg, and this time, starvation wasn’t an option.
I couldn’t exercise the same way. I couldn’t deprive myself. My body had changed. I had changed.
Now, I’m under the care of health professionals, and my family knows the signs to look for. I want to lose 10kg—but I want to do it without breaking myself in the process.
Would I Recommend Banting?
Actually, yes. Banting isn’t inherently bad. It helped me regain energy and heal some internal issues—I even reversed a PCOS diagnosis. But Banting isn’t for everyone, especially not for someone with an obsessive nature, or for people whose relationship with food is already fragile.
Right now, my goal is simple: Eat to live. Nourish myself. Be kind to my body.
Will I miss all the cheese? Sure. But not as much as I missed peace.
Let’s talk water. It sounds simple, right? Just drink more of it. Easy. Except it’s not that simple, because not all water is created equal. And if you’re managing chronic illness, fatigue, inflammation, or just want to feel like a functioning human, then the quality of the water you’re putting into your body really does matter.
So, What’s the Deal with Tap Water?
First things first: in many parts of the world, tap water is technically “safe.” But “safe” doesn’t always mean ideal. Depending on where you live, your tap water might contain:
Chlorine or chloramine (used to disinfect, but not great for gut health)
Fluoride (still controversial, especially for thyroid and neurological concerns)
Heavy metals like lead, copper, or mercury from old pipes
Pesticide or pharmaceutical residue — yep, trace amounts can sneak in
Microplastics (increasingly showing up in global water supplies)
And if you’re already dealing with an autoimmune condition or chronic fatigue, these things can compound inflammation and contribute to that sluggish, bloated, brain-foggy “ugh” feeling. You’re not imagining it.
Bottled Water: Better… Or Just Expensive Tap?
Don’t let the label fool you. That “pure” bottled water you’re sipping on? Often just filtered tap water in a pretty bottle. Some brands use reverse osmosis, stripping everything — even the good minerals — and then add synthetic minerals back in (if they add anything at all).
It’s like someone bleaching your dinner and then shaking a multivitamin over it for flavour.
So… What Should You Be Drinking?
Let’s be honest — in an ideal world, we’d all have crystal-clear mountain spring water flowing straight into our kitchens. But back here on Earth, the goal is to drink water that’s as clean, nourishing, and mineral-rich as possible.
If you’re opting for bottled, check the source. Look for naturally filtered mineral water from protected springs or aquifers — not “purified tap water” in disguise.
One solid example? aqua.v, a South African brand that bottles naturally sourced mineral water with care. It’s clean, refreshing, and contains minerals that your body actually needs — without any unnecessary additives. No frills, just good water. The kind you want to drink and the kind that’s good to our environment. Their glass bottles are returned, cleaned, and refilled for use. That’s a BIG plus in my book.
How to Make Your Water More Exciting (Without Going Full Influencer)
Let’s face it, if your water tastes like a chemistry experiment or the inside of a swimming pool, you’re not going to drink enough of it. Here are a few ways to make water more inviting without turning it into a sugar bomb:
🍋 Fruit Infusion: Drop in slices of lemon, oranges, or berries for a refreshing twist.
🥒 Veggie Mix: Cucumbers and celery add a crisp, clean taste — like a spa day in a glass.
🌿 Herbal Kick: Fresh mint, basil, or rosemary can take your water to the next level.
🍓 A Splash of Juice: A little natural fruit juice adds sweetness without a sugar overload.
🫧 Go Fizzy: Sparkling water is a great alternative if you’re craving bubbles.
☕ Herbal Tea Bags: Drop in a caffeine-free tea bag for a subtle flavour hit — hot or cold.
🌶️ Spice It Up: Cinnamon or ginger add a warm, comforting twist, especially in cooler months.
These small touches can make hydration feel less like a chore and more like an actual treat.
Final Thoughts
Hydration is one of those foundational things that affects everything: your energy, skin, digestion, brain function, and even your mood. And while we can’t all hike to a spring and bottle our own water (unless you’re living that off-grid fantasy), we can make smarter choices with what we’ve got.
So, if you’re feeling sluggish, foggy, or just “off,” take a look at your water. It might be the simplest and most overlooked piece of your wellness puzzle.
💬 Got a favourite way to jazz up your water? Or a go-to brand you swear by? Let us know in the comments — or come hang out in the private group where the real talks happen.
Healing isn’t a neat, Pinterest-worthy process. It’s messy, unpredictable, and at times it feels like you’re going backwards. You think you’re doing better, then boom—something knocks the wind out of you, and you’re right back in that heavy place. No one really talks about that part.
There’s this glossy narrative floating around about “overcoming trauma”—as if healing is just a matter of ticking a few boxes, drinking green juice, lighting a candle, and suddenly you’re whole again. But in reality, healing is gritty work. It’s slow and it’s quiet and most of it happens behind closed doors, in the dark corners of the soul where nobody claps for you.
For me, the hardest part has been the loneliness. Even when you’re surrounded by people who care, no one else can actually crawl inside your skin and do the work for you. And when the people around you don’t quite get it—or worse, think you should be over it by now—it can make you feel even more alone. It’s not just about processing pain; it’s grieving the version of you that never got to exist. The version that didn’t get hurt. The version that felt safe in the world.
Trauma changes you. That’s not a failure—it’s just a fact. And coming to terms with that truth is its own kind of heartbreak.
And then there’s the body—oh, the body keeps score whether we want it to or not. Trauma doesn’t just live in your memories; it takes up residence in your muscles, your immune system, your sleep, your skin, your everything. I developed Multiple Sclerosis, and I believe my body finally said, “Enough.” Years of tension, unprocessed fear, self-betrayal… it adds up.
There’s also this strange guilt that creeps in when healing doesn’t follow the tidy timeline society seems to expect. We’re conditioned to believe that recovery should be linear—fast, visible, “productive.” But healing doesn’t care about your calendar. Some days you’re meditating and eating your veggies, and other days you’re crying in your car and ghosting everyone. Both days count.
And then there are the triggers—the tiny landmines that can blow a hole in your progress without warning. A smell, a song, a stupid Facebook memory. Suddenly, you’re not here anymore—you’re there, again. It’s jarring. But here’s the thing: being triggered isn’t proof you’ve failed. It’s proof you’re still healing. It’s part of learning how to live with what happened without letting it define you.
One of the strangest side effects of healing is that you might outgrow people. As you start setting boundaries and prioritising your peace, some relationships fall apart. It hurts—especially when those people once felt like your home—but it’s a necessary kind of grief. Not everyone is meant to walk with you through your healing. Some were only ever there to survive the storm, not rebuild after it.
And then there’s the fear of feeling too much. When you finally let yourself feel, it can feel like opening a floodgate. Anger, sadness, shame, rage—all the things you’ve tried so hard to outrun come rushing in. It’s overwhelming, yes. But it’s also where the magic begins. Because the only way out is through. Feeling doesn’t mean you’re falling apart—it means you’re finally listening.
Truth is, healing doesn’t mean going back to who you were before the trauma. That version of you is gone. But that doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means you’re building someone new—someone wiser, stronger, more self-aware. Someone with roots, not just wounds.
Relearning how to trust yourself after trauma is no small feat. But it’s possible. With time, with gentleness, with truth. And maybe that’s the most powerful part of healing—not the big, dramatic breakthroughs, but the quiet decision to keep going. To get up, again and again, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
So if you’re in the thick of it, please know: you’re not doing it wrong. It’s just that healing is hard. And you’re doing it anyway. That’s the victory.
