#after those two I’m going to use all my newfound energy and mental clarity to go on a walk every day

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

trying to resist the urge of starting all over by setting huge and immediate resolutions I’ll never be able to sustain

[frangipanidownunder]

Scar Tissue: Final

Read Part One  Part  Two

A/N: High angst. Trigger warning for PTSD/panic attacks.

Part Three

There’s a knock at her door. It’s not Mulder but Diana Fowley, suited, holding a paper bag. A peace offering for lunch? 

“May I come in, Agent Scully?”

Scully watches her as she glances around the apartment, checking out her living and mental state, much as Mulder had done. Fowley opens the bag. Sweet warmth spills out. 

“I’ll get some plates.” Scully reaches up to the cupboard and the skin around her middle tightens. A small moan escapes her lips.

“Let me,” Fowley says, taking the plates from the shelf. “I know how hard it is to recover, Agent Scully.”

“I’m fine. I’ll make you a coffee. The jug’s just boiled.” The raspberry filling on the pastries is dark red, congealing. She presses the back of her fingers to her lips. Swallows down the bitter bile. The coffee mixed with the aroma of Fowley’s Chanel No. 5 is making her nauseous.

“You haven’t been in the office for a few days. Fox…Agent Mulder was concerned.” 

Fowley’s voice is distorted. This whole scene is distorted. Her head is throbbing, her tongue is thick and stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I needed...”

“Take all the time you need,” Fowley says, sipping her coffee. Her eyes never leave Scully’s face. They’re taking everything in. Trained observance. 

Scully feels almost violated. “What does that mean?” She lays her hands on the table but she must have moved faster than she thought because the pastries wobble, one slips off the plate scattering flakes across the surface. All the while, Fowley is watching her. Making mental notes. 

Is this what Mulder felt like in the early days? Scrutinised? Trapped? A twinge of sympathy, guilt, but then she snaps back to reality. This is his doing. He’s chasing her away by using her own demons against her. Not the ones he’s had them chasing for years. No. He’s using a figure from his past, someone she knows nothing about, but who has knowledge of him, to squeeze her out of the equation. Partner? The man wouldn’t know trust and sharing if it dressed up as an alien and abducted him. She sees it all so clearly now that it makes her want to laugh. One of those maniacal, chest-opening laughs. But then Fowley would really deem her mad.

“Why are you here? Why didn’t Mulder come? Does he even know you’re here?” She can feel her voice squeezing through her throat and out into the air, pitchy.

Fowley reaches across, covers Scully’s hand in her own. Her fingers are thin, long, cold. She’s wearing a heavy gold band on the ring finger of her right hand. It’s ugly. Masculine. Scully tries to pull her own hand back but Fowley grips it. “Dana. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. It just takes time.”

Scully wrenches her hand away, stands up, yells, “Get out of my house.” Her coffee and the plate fly through the air and fall onto the tiles with such a sharp crash that Scully gasps and clutches her ears. Her heart lurches, buffeting against her rib cage, painfully. The silence that follows is even louder than the breakage. She looks at the mess: pointed shards of white porcelain, greasy lumps of pastry, fruit smeared into the tiles, brown liquid blooming across the floor. Broken. Everything is broken. And she can’t move. She can’t feel her legs. She wants to scream but there’s no air left inside. 

“I’ll get a cloth,” Fowley says and starts clearing up, moving around with precision. Doing things. “Sit.” It’s a command and Scully obeys. It’s easier somehow, to just let someone else take control. She watches Fowley search for a dustpan, broom, cloths. She couldn’t even tell her where any of those things were, if she tried. 

She’s empty. 

When the mess has gone, Fowley sits back down. At some point she must have got a blanket because Scully has one wrapped around her shoulders and she’s shivering.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Is Mulder coming?”

Fowley half-smiles. “Do you want me to call him?” 

Scully shakes her head. He shouldn’t see her like this. She takes a juddering breath in. Clears her mind, resets. She thinks back to the events preceding, looks back at Diana and whispers, “Thank you.”

The woman shrugs, pulls her hair back and holds it at her nape. “When I was in Europe, we did some dangerous work. Undercover. There was one op that went horribly wrong. I was badly injured. I lost a partner. A good agent. I…felt like it was…my fault. I was the senior agent. I relived it every moment. The nights,” she says, letting her hair fall back around her shoulders and crossing her legs, “the small hours, I would lie there and pick over every detail. I had terrible nightmares, flashbacks, palpitations. It…it made me feel weak. Not just in a physical sense, but in an emotional way.”

Scully can’t look at her while she’s relaying this information. Diana’s words tear at her insides with their visceral honesty. Like Ritter’s bullet. 

“What did you do?” Scully asks.

“I did all the usual things, saw a counsellor, got drunk, took stupid risks, fucked around. I see how all those things numbed the pain for a while, but the pain always came back.” She dips her head, and Scully know she’s trying to get her to lift her own eyes. “It always comes back.”

“I’m not drinking too much. I’m exercising. I’m working.”

“And the nightmares, the flashbacks, the panic attacks? How are you dealing with those?”

Scully flinches. “Honestly, I’m…”

“Fine,” Diana says, but she doesn’t mean it as an extension to Scully’s sentence. It’s a statement. She’s giving up. She came here expecting Scully to be putty in her hands, to bend and mould into the shape that she and Mulder want her to be. Fowley’s face sets. She’s failed and she doesn’t like it. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Scully doesn’t see her out. She listens to Fowley’s footsteps clipping down the hallway. Confident strides. Leaving her. Fatigue fills her limbs like lead. Her temples tighten and tension pulls at her shoulders. She feels nauseous. Bile stings her throat. The apartment is suddenly cavernous, filled with ominous shadows, encroaching on her place in the kitchen. She stands but her legs are like jelly. She’s on the floor before she knows what’s happening. A leftover shard of china digging into her cheek. Tears mix with blood and run into the grout between the tiles. Leaking. Everything is leaching away from her.

It’s a long time before she rouses herself. Her joints are stiff, she’s cold, empty. She calls her mom. Listens to her gentle voice a while. Then she calls Mulder.

She’s still in her robe when he arrives, hair wet, skin stinging. Tears rush out, uncontrollable. He lets her weep. 

“The final stage of wound healing is maturation,” she says, after a while.

He nods.

“It can take two years. The dermal tissue is overhauled, remodelled. The tensile strength is enhanced. Non-functional fibroblasts are replaced with functional ones. It’s a long, complex process.”

“It’s going to okay, Scully. You’re going to be okay.”

“I made an appointment with a counsellor.”

“It’s not a sign of weakness.” She can see the relief in his eyes, but it’s more than that; there’s a deeper emotion at play. He reaches for her hand. God, she’s missed his touch. “It’s a sign of strength.”

“But even after healing, the wound site can remain 20 per cent weaker than the rest of the body.”

He shakes his head, chuffs. “Dana Scully operating at 20 per cent less capacity, is still 100 per cent better than most.”

His arms wrap around her, wet hair sticking to his face. “I’m sorry, Mulder, I’m so sorry.”

“No. No, Scully. I’m sorry. I let you down. I should have stepped in earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have listened. I didn’t listen.” He laughs, a genuine chuckle. She feels instantly lighter. Pulling away, she sees the question hanging. “It was Diana, actually. She made me see…”

“Funny...she told me you didn’t respond to her. She felt she’d wasted her time.”

“That’s not true.” She shakes her head.

Mulder tips her chin towards his face. “Perhaps you were just ready to face it, Scully.”

“It?”

He sighs, snapping from support to irritation. It hurts her, his instant change of attitude, but with her newfound clarity, she sees that her defensiveness has become a weapon, not a shield.

Her eyes fill again and she pats her fingers over her weary eyelids. “You’re right. I am. I am ready to face it, this. The rest of the process. Whatever it takes. And Diana, she really did make me think about moving forward.” 

“You’re the only one who could have made that decision, Scully.” His face softens again and there’s a warm energy running through her veins, positively charged. Something she hasn’t experienced in a while. 

“Thank you for coming, Mulder.” 

“Any time, partner.”

Her hands rest on her abdomen. The scar there is healing. She has to believe that. New cells regenerating, rebuilding, restoring. Her body is doing what it does best. And when Mulder leaves, she runs her hand over the striations and lets sleep take her down.

[chieftainking-a]

💎 ! !

Peer into my muse’s memories: Part 2 || @chieftn

💎- A precious memory they hold dear

   Dagur stood, the setting sun behind him casting a stark shadow across his forlorn visage, as he looked out across the island. Seeing his dad’s things… Sometimes– and, by sometimes, he meant usually– it made him stop and remember how terrible he’d been. The little brat that he was. The big brat that he was… The whole “don’t be a jerk” thing was pretty new, really. But this newfound perspective of his? It made him view everything, every little memory, in a new light. Changed their meaning, changed the emotions tied to them… And this one? It hurt. But he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

   Eyes closed, he drew the crest in his hand to his face as he pressed his forehead against it, the memory coming back like the dried-out creek turning into a waterfall after it rained. Trickling, at first, then flooding and overwhelming…

   Dagur sat, hefty wooden bow in hand, on the outskirts of the island. He’d had a disagreement with dear old dad, yet again. No surprise there; the two never saw eye to eye. Even as young as he was, he had his own ideas of what he wanted and what a Berserker should be, and he was very opinionated about it. The tales he’d been told, of daring warriors taking on numerous enemies and coming out victorious. Taking down the mightiest of beasts and bringing home their heads for trophies. That was what a Berserker was supposed to be; a warrior. Unchained, unhinged.                        A wildcard.

   So, when his daddy dearest decided to do the “honorable” thing and prevent a war with a neighboring tribe, the young Berserker couldn’t help but feel a little cheated. He was fourteen; finally old enough to fight with the other men. How was he ever going to become the battle-hardened man he knew he was destined to be– the one he’d dreamed of becoming for years and years– if daddy-o never let him fight?!

   As he stood there, training his bow on some helpless fawn, he felt a heavy hand grip his shoulder. Spooked, the boy jumped, sending the arrow off-course and dead into a tree as the fawn bolted. Turning in anger, ready to deck whoever’d just messed up his shot, his eyes widened. It was Oswald! Ohhhh, man, he was gonna be in trouble! He wasn’t supposed to be playing around with his bow or shooting things he had no intention of making use of. He knew he was about to get an earful, the ginger-haired boy grimacing with closed eyes in anticipation of that all-too-familiar tone. But that heavy hand held steadily at his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see, instead, that his father had knelt before him. The two stood, nearly eye to eye, as his father spoke softly.

     “I know you don’t understand, yet, Dagur… But someday, you will. Once you become a man and have lived more, experienced more. But for now, my son… Please have faith in my decisions as Chieftain, as you would wish for your men to have faith in you. When you become the Chieftain I know you can be, there will be no stopping you.” That word. Chieftain. Dagur couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of his lip, stifling a scoff at the word. Yeah, he’d be Chieftain one day, and a great one, too! But not by his dad’s rules.

   As Oswald continued, Dagur mentally checked out of the conversation, mindlessly examining the crest hooked onto the spiked leather of his father’s belt. 

   It was heavily marred and the metal had lost its sheen over the years, but it still caught the boy’s eye. The meaning behind it, of who and what they, the mighty Berserkers, were. The strength of their clan. Or, at least, the strength their clan had before Oswald took over…

   He noticed his father had stopped talking, his attention snapping back to the man. Oswald was giving Dagur a stern look, clearly aware of the teen’s distraction. Then the man’s eyes traced to what the boy had been staring at, callused fingers touching the rough iron. Getting back to his feet, his father took a step back and worked to remove his belt– fortunately, it was purely for decoration, or this may well have been an embarrassing night for the both of them– and, without hesitation, extended it to his son. Dagur, confused and surprised by the action, looked between the belt and his father a few times. Was he… Really giving it to him? But he hadn’t earned the crest, yet… This was just some move to appease him and make him be quiet! It wasn’t gonna work!

   Dagur shoved the belt back at his father, angered by his perception of the situation. He wasn’t a baby, he didn’t need a pacifier! He didn’t need empty gestures! He needed to fight!

   Oswald shook his head, pulling up his hood. “My son, you misunderstand me,” he spoke, voice unchanged from its soft yet stern tone. He was always understanding of his son, despite their differences. Always playing Devil’s Advocate on the confused boy’s behalf. He knew the truth behind Dagur’s actions when no one else did. He just didn’t know how to reach him; how to pick past that crazed and obsessive nature to help the boy find focus and clarity. He was always too lost in his own world to listen to reason… But Oswald was his father, and he would not give up on his child.

     “This is no attempt to quell your fire, Dagur,” he continued, moving closer and wrapping the belt around the teen. “I would never wish that for you. Your fire is what makes you, you. I wish only that you would concentrate that fire, that energy, on what’s best for our people. I give you this in confidence that you will be the Chief our tribe needs you to be. Nothing more, nothing less.”

   Dagur, again stunned by his father’s words and actions, tried and failed to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. He was angry; too stubborn to let go of that belief that this was a trick… But torn, knowing there was sincerity behind his father’s words. There was nothing the youth could say, lifting his forearm to his face as if it would somehow prevent his father knowing he was crying. Then he felt those same, strong arms wrap around him in an embrace, and the crying could not be ignored. His arm dropped, returning the rare display of affection.

     “I was so confused back then, dad…,” Dagur spoke softly, voice breaking, emerald eyes blurry as he looked at the crest clasped in his hand. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t… Know the truth of things, or understand what you meant. Just like you said… Just like you knew.” His grip tightened, clutching the metal until it dug into his skin. 

            “But I’m trying, dad… I’m trying so hard….”

                                               …And I hope I make you proud now.”

[milenasanchezmk]

A Backpacker’s Journey From Weight Loss To a New Life Mission

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

One of my very favorite hobbies is ultra-light backpacking. I love being able to strap on a pack with the bare essentials and get lost in the woods for days at a time. For the longest time, I’ve been on a perpetual quest to discover and collect the lightest gear to make my outdoor quests as efficient as possible. I’ll obsessively get out a kitchen scale to weigh my equipment piece by piece, creatively looking for ways to cut 5 oz. here and 2 oz. there. However, for years I nonsensically overlooked the heaviest and bulkiest piece of gear that I was lugging up and down the trail…my 40 lbs of extra body fat. Duh!

Through most of my adulthood, I could eat whatever I wanted (and in whatever quantity I wanted!) and not gain a single pound. I just chalked it up to lucky genes. When I hit my late 30s, however, things took a predictable turn for the worse. Year after year, the bathroom scale needle began trending upwards and it was becoming increasingly difficult to squeeze into my favorite pair of 501’s. Before I knew it, I was forty pounds overweight, constantly lethargic, frequently sick, and lacking the overall motivation to get out of bed each morning.

So I made a commitment to eat less and exercise more. That didn’t work for me at all! I lacked the simple willpower and self-control to stop eating delicious junk foods. And after two years of six days a week trips to the gym making myself miserable on cardio machines, I hadn’t lost a single pound of body fat. I felt frustrated, perplexed, and embarrassed. I felt like a complete failure.

In my unsuccessful attempts to look and feel better, I reluctantly solicited the help of a fitness trainer. I was hesitant for two reasons. One, I feared my body would be instantly transformed into Lou Ferrigno’s if I even glanced at a free weight. Two, I’m a prideful kind of guy that likes to research things on my own. But Googling “weight loss” left me so bewildered that ultimately, I put all my trust into my trainer’s hands.

My fitness coach suggested I try a trendy diet called keto. Since I told my trainer I’d do whatever he told me to do, no questions asked, I gave it a try. The first week I lost 7 lbs. It was during this week that I heard Mark Sisson interviewed on the Joe Rogan podcast. They talked a lot about keto, and my ears perked up. Mark also outlined the characteristics of the Primal Blueprint way of life and I was entirely hooked. Everything he said made so much logical sense to me. I probably listened to that two-hour podcast another ten times to let the concepts slowly begin to reprogram my thinking patterns that had long been brainwashed by conventional diet and exercise “wisdom.” I immediately got a copy of The Primal Blueprint and devoured it. I subscribed to as many primal and paleo podcasts as I could fit in my queue. I couldn’t seem to get enough of this new life-changing information!

After just a few short months, Mark helped me to completely optimize my diet and workouts. I was finally able to see and feel the results of the scale moving downward. I was now experiencing the benefits of being fat adapted…having bounds of energy, improved mental clarity, and not routinely getting sick every three months.

I wanted to share this newfound experience with as many people as possible. I now had a brand new life mission to help others discover how to become healthier, stronger, thinner, and full of energy. So when I came across an ad for enrolling in the Primal Health Coach Institute, I didn’t hesitate a second. Take my money! Going through the 17-week program was chock-full of revolutionary health insights and practical coaching strategies. I enjoyed the surprise of a new module opening up each week, and couldn’t wait to devour the life-changing concepts within. After graduating from the course, I felt supremely confident in my ability to coach clients towards their health goals.

However, towards the end of the training, a slight panic began to set in. I’d never started a business before. I didn’t possess the entrepreneurial gene that everyone on Shark Tank seems to have. I lacked the business experience and acumen. Right when all those doubts began to creep into my mind, PHCI—the Primal Health Coach Institute, came to the rescue. Not only did they provide an amazing business resource center at the end of the program, but they added 12 new business building task modules within the curriculum. I was able to go through each one step by step in a logical, simple, and straightforward progression. The staff also hosts ongoing monthly webinars with practical training and tips. After each webinar, I’m so inspired by the relevant content. There’s always a wealth of useful action steps that I can apply to health coaching and business building. PHCI has taken all the guesswork out of starting a health coaching vocation for me. The business building tasks alone were well worth the cost of the program!

By the time I graduated, I was able to launch The Optimized Life, LLC with a snazzy website (theoptimizedlife.net), set up 4 business social media outlets, construct a growing email marketing strategy, and tackle tons of other smaller but vital tasks for beginning a thriving health coaching practice. Within my first week, I signed up four clients for a 3-month group coaching package. I’m now well on my way to providing nutritional and fitness support for busy people whose waistlines are expanding and energy levels are declining.

Words can’t express how grateful I am to Mark and all the Primal staff for giving me the tools to live the rest of my life with joy and vitality. As a Primal Health Coach, I want nothing more than to pass those same tools on to others I meet as well.

Chris Prior

[cristinajourdanqp]

A Backpacker’s Journey From Weight Loss To a New Life Mission

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

One of my very favorite hobbies is ultra-light backpacking. I love being able to strap on a pack with the bare essentials and get lost in the woods for days at a time. For the longest time, I’ve been on a perpetual quest to discover and collect the lightest gear to make my outdoor quests as efficient as possible. I’ll obsessively get out a kitchen scale to weigh my equipment piece by piece, creatively looking for ways to cut 5 oz. here and 2 oz. there. However, for years I nonsensically overlooked the heaviest and bulkiest piece of gear that I was lugging up and down the trail…my 40 lbs of extra body fat. Duh!

Through most of my adulthood, I could eat whatever I wanted (and in whatever quantity I wanted!) and not gain a single pound. I just chalked it up to lucky genes. When I hit my late 30s, however, things took a predictable turn for the worse. Year after year, the bathroom scale needle began trending upwards and it was becoming increasingly difficult to squeeze into my favorite pair of 501’s. Before I knew it, I was forty pounds overweight, constantly lethargic, frequently sick, and lacking the overall motivation to get out of bed each morning.

So I made a commitment to eat less and exercise more. That didn’t work for me at all! I lacked the simple willpower and self-control to stop eating delicious junk foods. And after two years of six days a week trips to the gym making myself miserable on cardio machines, I hadn’t lost a single pound of body fat. I felt frustrated, perplexed, and embarrassed. I felt like a complete failure.

In my unsuccessful attempts to look and feel better, I reluctantly solicited the help of a fitness trainer. I was hesitant for two reasons. One, I feared my body would be instantly transformed into Lou Ferrigno’s if I even glanced at a free weight. Two, I’m a prideful kind of guy that likes to research things on my own. But Googling “weight loss” left me so bewildered that ultimately, I put all my trust into my trainer’s hands.

My fitness coach suggested I try a trendy diet called keto. Since I told my trainer I’d do whatever he told me to do, no questions asked, I gave it a try. The first week I lost 7 lbs. It was during this week that I heard Mark Sisson interviewed on the Joe Rogan podcast. They talked a lot about keto, and my ears perked up. Mark also outlined the characteristics of the Primal Blueprint way of life and I was entirely hooked. Everything he said made so much logical sense to me. I probably listened to that two-hour podcast another ten times to let the concepts slowly begin to reprogram my thinking patterns that had long been brainwashed by conventional diet and exercise “wisdom.” I immediately got a copy of The Primal Blueprint and devoured it. I subscribed to as many primal and paleo podcasts as I could fit in my queue. I couldn’t seem to get enough of this new life-changing information!

After just a few short months, Mark helped me to completely optimize my diet and workouts. I was finally able to see and feel the results of the scale moving downward. I was now experiencing the benefits of being fat adapted…having bounds of energy, improved mental clarity, and not routinely getting sick every three months.

I wanted to share this newfound experience with as many people as possible. I now had a brand new life mission to help others discover how to become healthier, stronger, thinner, and full of energy. So when I came across an ad for enrolling in the Primal Health Coach Institute, I didn’t hesitate a second. Take my money! Going through the 17-week program was chock-full of revolutionary health insights and practical coaching strategies. I enjoyed the surprise of a new module opening up each week, and couldn’t wait to devour the life-changing concepts within. After graduating from the course, I felt supremely confident in my ability to coach clients towards their health goals.

However, towards the end of the training, a slight panic began to set in. I’d never started a business before. I didn’t possess the entrepreneurial gene that everyone on Shark Tank seems to have. I lacked the business experience and acumen. Right when all those doubts began to creep into my mind, PHCI—the Primal Health Coach Institute, came to the rescue. Not only did they provide an amazing business resource center at the end of the program, but they added 12 new business building task modules within the curriculum. I was able to go through each one step by step in a logical, simple, and straightforward progression. The staff also hosts ongoing monthly webinars with practical training and tips. After each webinar, I’m so inspired by the relevant content. There’s always a wealth of useful action steps that I can apply to health coaching and business building. PHCI has taken all the guesswork out of starting a health coaching vocation for me. The business building tasks alone were well worth the cost of the program!

By the time I graduated, I was able to launch The Optimized Life, LLC with a snazzy website (theoptimizedlife.net), set up 4 business social media outlets, construct a growing email marketing strategy, and tackle tons of other smaller but vital tasks for beginning a thriving health coaching practice. Within my first week, I signed up four clients for a 3-month group coaching package. I’m now well on my way to providing nutritional and fitness support for busy people whose waistlines are expanding and energy levels are declining.

Words can’t express how grateful I am to Mark and all the Primal staff for giving me the tools to live the rest of my life with joy and vitality. As a Primal Health Coach, I want nothing more than to pass those same tools on to others I meet as well.

Chris Prior

[watsonrodriquezie]

A Backpacker’s Journey From Weight Loss To a New Life Mission

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

One of my very favorite hobbies is ultra-light backpacking. I love being able to strap on a pack with the bare essentials and get lost in the woods for days at a time. For the longest time, I’ve been on a perpetual quest to discover and collect the lightest gear to make my outdoor quests as efficient as possible. I’ll obsessively get out a kitchen scale to weigh my equipment piece by piece, creatively looking for ways to cut 5 oz. here and 2 oz. there. However, for years I nonsensically overlooked the heaviest and bulkiest piece of gear that I was lugging up and down the trail…my 40 lbs of extra body fat. Duh!

Through most of my adulthood, I could eat whatever I wanted (and in whatever quantity I wanted!) and not gain a single pound. I just chalked it up to lucky genes. When I hit my late 30s, however, things took a predictable turn for the worse. Year after year, the bathroom scale needle began trending upwards and it was becoming increasingly difficult to squeeze into my favorite pair of 501’s. Before I knew it, I was forty pounds overweight, constantly lethargic, frequently sick, and lacking the overall motivation to get out of bed each morning.

So I made a commitment to eat less and exercise more. That didn’t work for me at all! I lacked the simple willpower and self-control to stop eating delicious junk foods. And after two years of six days a week trips to the gym making myself miserable on cardio machines, I hadn’t lost a single pound of body fat. I felt frustrated, perplexed, and embarrassed. I felt like a complete failure.

In my unsuccessful attempts to look and feel better, I reluctantly solicited the help of a fitness trainer. I was hesitant for two reasons. One, I feared my body would be instantly transformed into Lou Ferrigno’s if I even glanced at a free weight. Two, I’m a prideful kind of guy that likes to research things on my own. But Googling “weight loss” left me so bewildered that ultimately, I put all my trust into my trainer’s hands.

My fitness coach suggested I try a trendy diet called keto. Since I told my trainer I’d do whatever he told me to do, no questions asked, I gave it a try. The first week I lost 7 lbs. It was during this week that I heard Mark Sisson interviewed on the Joe Rogan podcast. They talked a lot about keto, and my ears perked up. Mark also outlined the characteristics of the Primal Blueprint way of life and I was entirely hooked. Everything he said made so much logical sense to me. I probably listened to that two-hour podcast another ten times to let the concepts slowly begin to reprogram my thinking patterns that had long been brainwashed by conventional diet and exercise “wisdom.” I immediately got a copy of The Primal Blueprint and devoured it. I subscribed to as many primal and paleo podcasts as I could fit in my queue. I couldn’t seem to get enough of this new life-changing information!

After just a few short months, Mark helped me to completely optimize my diet and workouts. I was finally able to see and feel the results of the scale moving downward. I was now experiencing the benefits of being fat adapted…having bounds of energy, improved mental clarity, and not routinely getting sick every three months.

I wanted to share this newfound experience with as many people as possible. I now had a brand new life mission to help others discover how to become healthier, stronger, thinner, and full of energy. So when I came across an ad for enrolling in the Primal Health Coach Institute, I didn’t hesitate a second. Take my money! Going through the 17-week program was chock-full of revolutionary health insights and practical coaching strategies. I enjoyed the surprise of a new module opening up each week, and couldn’t wait to devour the life-changing concepts within. After graduating from the course, I felt supremely confident in my ability to coach clients towards their health goals.

However, towards the end of the training, a slight panic began to set in. I’d never started a business before. I didn’t possess the entrepreneurial gene that everyone on Shark Tank seems to have. I lacked the business experience and acumen. Right when all those doubts began to creep into my mind, PHCI—the Primal Health Coach Institute, came to the rescue. Not only did they provide an amazing business resource center at the end of the program, but they added 12 new business building task modules within the curriculum. I was able to go through each one step by step in a logical, simple, and straightforward progression. The staff also hosts ongoing monthly webinars with practical training and tips. After each webinar, I’m so inspired by the relevant content. There’s always a wealth of useful action steps that I can apply to health coaching and business building. PHCI has taken all the guesswork out of starting a health coaching vocation for me. The business building tasks alone were well worth the cost of the program!

By the time I graduated, I was able to launch The Optimized Life, LLC with a snazzy website (theoptimizedlife.net), set up 4 business social media outlets, construct a growing email marketing strategy, and tackle tons of other smaller but vital tasks for beginning a thriving health coaching practice. Within my first week, I signed up four clients for a 3-month group coaching package. I’m now well on my way to providing nutritional and fitness support for busy people whose waistlines are expanding and energy levels are declining.

Words can’t express how grateful I am to Mark and all the Primal staff for giving me the tools to live the rest of my life with joy and vitality. As a Primal Health Coach, I want nothing more than to pass those same tools on to others I meet as well.

Chris Prior