My weight data from the past few years is one of the most important indicators of my overall health. When I am in environments that support me, my weight moves toward a healthy range. When my environment is unsafe or unsupportive, my weight rises. This is not a matter of “lifestyle choices.” It reflects how my body responds to stress, trauma, and metabolic factors, including my MC4R genetic mutation.
From an Interpersonal Neurobiology perspective, this is exactly what we would expect: the nervous system constantly gauges safety and threat. When the environment is unsafe, the body shifts into survival mode. Weight changes are one measurable way my system signals whether it can maintain balance or whether it’s under chronic strain.
Virtually every healthcare practitioner I see–multiple times each month over years–records my weight. Yet nobody has ever noticed, asked about it, or connected it to my overall health. It’s recorded for billing purposes. It doesn’t inform a treatment plan. It doesn’t spark curiosity. It’s just a box to check, like blood pressure or oxygen saturation. The data is there, but its meaning is invisible.
Isolated readings of blood pressure or pulse can never show the ongoing impact of trauma, chronic stress, or nervous system dysregulation. When my system is overloaded, my capacity to manage food, shopping, cooking, and social interactions diminishes, creating a downward spiral unless I receive the right level of care.
I have experienced extreme medical harm, and the effects of that trauma continue to affect my health every day. My weight, tracked over time, tells the story of my nervous system, my environment, and my life in ways no single measurement ever can. To disregard it is to disregard me, my experiences, and the very real physiological signals my body sends about what it needs to survive and thrive.
