Since I had my first heart attack last year and had a few stents put in, my way of thinking has changed for the better. I was 283 pounds when the heart attack happened, and now I’m down to 254. My goal is to lose 1 or 2 pounds a week until I feel good in my body again. This journey has taught me something profound that I wanted to share with you today—something about truly knowing ourselves and why that understanding becomes the foundation for everything else.

Between you and me, that heart attack was the wake-up call I needed. For years, I’d been living on autopilot, making choices without really questioning why. I ate what was convenient, not what nourished me. I put everyone else’s needs before my own. I kept pushing through fatigue because that’s what I’d always done.

But lying in that hospital bed, watching my heartbeat on the monitor, I found myself asking the question I’d avoided for decades: Why am I making these choices? What truly matters to me at this stage of my journey?

If you’re anything like me, you might recognize this pattern. We develop habits of thinking and doing that may have served us beautifully in earlier chapters but perhaps no longer reflect who we’re becoming. The remarkable gift of this stage of life—even when it arrives through difficult circumstances—is the wisdom to pause and rediscover ourselves—not as others need us to be, but as we truly are.

I came across something recently that completely changed how I think about self-knowledge. It was one of those moments when you read or hear something, and it feels like a light switching on in a dim room. The insight was simple yet profound: Knowing yourself isn’t about discovering some unchanging core that’s been there all along. Instead, it’s about recognizing that we’re still evolving at this stage of life and having the courage to ask what’s emerging now.

Along with this insight, I discovered a reflection practice that I’ve been using almost daily. It’s called the “Five Whys” approach. When you find yourself making a choice or feeling a strong emotion, you simply ask yourself “why?” Then, whatever answer emerges, you ask “why?” again. You continue this gentle questioning at least five layers deep to discover what’s really driving your patterns.

I tried this with my eating habits after the heart attack. My first “why” about why I often chose fast food was a surface answer about convenience. But by the fifth why, I discovered something surprising—my relationship with food was deeply connected to childhood experiences of scarcity, where quick, calorie-dense meals represented comfort and security. That insight wasn’t just interesting—it was liberating. It allowed me to develop new patterns of nourishment that honor both my need for comfort and my need for health.

What I appreciate about this simple technique is how it empowers me to take ownership of my choices. It’s not about blaming myself for patterns that no longer serve me, but about bringing compassionate awareness to the invisible scripts that have been running in the background of my life. I’ve been amazed at how many of my “automatic” behaviors make perfect sense when I understand their origins, but no longer align with who I’m becoming.

Now, let me share something that surprised me during this exploration after my heart attack. Some of our long-held patterns, when examined closely, simply don’t make sense anymore. And that’s not just okay—it’s a doorway to freedom.

Remember those expectations we absorbed decades ago about what strength looks like? Or success? Or comfort? Many were formed before we had the life experience—or the health wake-up calls—to question them. The beautiful opportunity of this chapter is the chance to gently hold these patterns to the light and ask, “Does this still serve the person I’m becoming?”

For instance, I’d always pushed myself to work through lunch breaks, believing that rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford. But when I examined this “why,” I discovered it was based on outdated ideas about productivity from my earlier career. This realization allowed me to develop a midday rest practice that actually serves my heart health—a proper lunch away from my desk, a brief walk outside, and a few minutes of quiet breathing that leaves me more focused for the afternoon rather than depleted.

Here’s what this process could look like in your daily life:

1. Notice a pattern or habit that feels automatic or possibly harmful to your wellbeing

2. Approach it with genuine curiosity rather than judgment

3. Explore the layered “whys” beneath this pattern

4. Ask yourself: “If I were designing this aspect of my life today, knowing what I now know about my health, would I choose this?”

5. Give yourself permission to release or modify patterns that no longer serve your wellbeing

What I find most fascinating about this journey inward is how it naturally flows outward into more authentic self-care. When you understand why you do what you do—when you reconnect with your deepest values and needs—caring for yourself becomes less about following external rules and more about honoring your unique truth.

I’ve come to believe that self-knowledge is the foundation of true self-love, which in turn makes healthy choices feel less like discipline and more like self-respect. It’s a connection I’ve observed in my own recovery and continued health journey.

I’ve noticed this myself. Once I understood my deeper motivations around food and rest, eating nourishing meals and prioritizing good sleep stopped feeling like punishments or obligations. They became natural expressions of caring for this person—this heart, this body—that I was coming to know and appreciate more fully.

This is the wisdom our culture rarely acknowledges—that a healthy body and a peaceful mind begin with honest self-discovery. That loving yourself starts with truly knowing yourself. That becoming your own best friend is the most profound health practice of all. I’ve found that as I lose each pound with intention rather than desperation, my body and mind respond differently. My choices emerge from genuine self-understanding rather than external pressure or fear.

If we were sitting across from each other right now, perhaps sharing a heart-healthy meal I’ve learned to prepare, I’d probably ask you this: Is there an area of your life where you’ve been following old patterns without questioning why? Could this be an opportunity to explore your deeper motivations and perhaps discover new possibilities for your wellbeing?

I’d truly love to hear your reflections if you feel like sharing them. Your insights might illuminate aspects of this journey that I haven’t yet recognized in my own experience.

Before I close this letter, I want to share one final thought that has been keeping me company during my recovery and weight loss journey: Getting to know yourself at this stage of life—especially after a health crisis—is perhaps the greatest adventure of all. It requires both courage and compassion in equal measure. But the reward is a life where each choice, each meal, each moment of rest or activity flows from a place of genuine self-knowledge.

Each pound I lose feels different now. It’s not about punishing my body or racing to a finish line. It’s about honoring what I’ve learned about myself and creating space for the person I’m becoming—someone who might be around longer to enjoy this beautiful life.

Download the five why’s journal PDF

Wellness tip

Sip warm lemon water with chia seeds each morning. It supports digestion, keeps you full longer, and gently detoxes your body

Until next week, may you walk gently with yourself as you continue your own journey toward greater self-understanding and wellbeing.

With warmth and appreciation,