I wanted to share a recent story about my experience with the Carnivore Diet and Low Insulin Lifestyle. Maybe it’s because I just finished watching Netflix’s Apple Cider Vinegar, but sharing my health experience feels strange: very health-influencer-esque. There is some mention of weight and weight loss and some mention of body image and my relationship with food, but that’s not really what the story is about: it’s about insulin. I know I’ve shared things of this nature before, and sometimes, weaving stories can add some humanity to what might otherwise be a cold and clinical onslaught of health information.
So, if you find the idea of reading about me intriguing or even entertaining, read on. As usual, remember that this is my experience and can’t be extrapolated to everyone. Let’s talk in a clinical setting if you read something that resonates with your experience and want to learn how it might fit your health history and goals.
Last summer, something shifted in my health. Maybe it’s the same thing that happens to most women around this age (late 30s), i.e., the catch-all explanation-replacement for “it’s just stress”-perimenopause. Maybe there was a shift in how I was taking care of myself, although it felt like I was staying on top of everything. I walked a lot, went outside, and ate fruits, vegetables, and protein. But something still felt off.
And the thing that felt “off” was what so many patients often complain about. I felt… well, I had gained some weight, and not just physical weight. I felt mentally and spiritually heavy. The weight seemed to pile on out of nowhere. I shun the scale and rarely weigh myself, but one day, I did. The jump in number was so big in such a short time that my judgey scale asked if I was the same person who had weighed in 3 months before. Wow. Nice…
The heaviness wasn’t without its causes. That Spring, I finished my Masters of Counselling Psychology–a long, almost three-year slog. Shortly after, my 15-year-old dog, Coco, stopped eating for four days. He was diagnosed with protein-losing enteropathy and put on a daily dose of liquid prednisone, a steroid. Coco has been with me from the start of all this, when I first filled out applications to attend naturopathic college. He slept beside me during late nights of studying. He came with me to my exams. The sleepless nights, the decision-making, weighing the responsibility of senior pet ownership–when to intervene medically, when to decide to end his suffering, of course, the sheer financial cost– was a lot to grapple with and went on for months. It’s still going on, to be frank.
That summer, my Nonna passed away a few weeks before her 97th birthday.
I wondered if it was grief, or stress, or even steroids getting on my skin, but I felt puffy. I was tired. I felt sluggish and less stress resilient. I was still active but doing more sedentary activities: reading and learning guitar.
Weight and digestive issues have been a struggle my entire life. The “healing journey” has led me on some valid paths: exploring food sensitivities and gluten-free living, nutritional support through supplements and nutrient-dense foods, meditation and mindfulness, adrenal support and herbal medicine, and prioritizing rest and mental health.
But, regarding nutrition, I felt I was doing everything I could. I didn’t want to go down the road of caloric restriction. I didn’t want to deprive my body or fight its process. Sometimes, weight is protection. Sometimes, we need a warm, heavy blanket. Sometimes, we need to slow down.
So, I did. Of course, I was tempted by thoughts of how to solve the weight gain by dieting, as so many of us have been programmed to do. I even recorded a podcast about retraining myself to value and preserve my muscle mass rather than trying to become smaller. I accepted this new shape and focused on the tasks: my work, hanging out in nature, surfing, and healing my gut.
My gut health was terrible, although I was managing it based on all the research I had sifted through on my way to creating a gut health course. I added in more fibre and fermented foods. This worked for a time but didn’t solve the problem entirely. For most of last year, my irritable bowel syndrome was wrecking havoc. I was highly distended, often in pain.
I had brain fog and physical sluggishness. I felt stuck in a parasympathetic state. So, I sat on the couch, enjoying slow mornings, reveling in the absence of deadlines. I read books. I went for long walks. That summer, I swam in lakes and went to the Atlantic ocean.
While trying to be patient with my body, I constantly felt that I wasn’t tapping into the energy from my food. I would eat a full day’s worth of food and some stews, legumes, rice, smoothie, and salads and still feel hungry. I was constantly thinking about food. I tried to honour this by just eating more whole foods. I believe the body asks for what i needs, if we’re willing to listen. So I tried my best to listen.
Around Christmas, I was at a cafe with my boyfriend. He was eating a sandwich. Ever since naturopthic college, I have diligently avoided gluten. But I was already feeling sluggish and bloated. I was already tired. And here was a delicious, bready baguette. A delightful sandwich with soft carbs, mayo, cheese, and meat, just inviting me to sink my teeth into it. What good was avoiding gluten doing me at this moment? I avoided gluten to feel energized, healthy and light. I already wasn’t feeling that way, so eff it, how could things get worse?
I took a bite. It was divine. I let myself eat gluten for the next month. Glorious, glorious bread! I felt like my life was straight out of the pages of Eat Pray Love as I gorged on all the pasta and pastries I wanted. I chilled at Christmas parties, eating brie, bread, cakes and pies. I had all the dessert. There were no limits anymore. And, in a way, that food freedom did heal my soul. It was like a vacation from all rules and guidelines. We need this from time to time.
But, if I was barely staying afloat before then, adding in the gluten and sugar made me slip below the surface. I was insanely bloated. My weight soared. I felt sore, stiff, and clumsy. I had significant brain fog. My ankles and face were comically puffy. While I didn’t regret a second of it, after my foray into the world of gluten, I decided it was time for a reset.
After much consideration, a light switch clicked on, and I decided it was time to try the Carnivore Diet.
The premise of the Carnivore Diet is that it’s the ultimate elimination diet. It’s ketogenic, or zero carb, and contains no FODMAPS (fibre), grains, or other allergenic foods. It gives the gut a chance to reset.
While we often hear about how good fibre is for us, the truth is that some research shows that eliminating fibre can heal constipation. Emptying the gut and consuming a low-reside diet, in other words, all the components of the diet are digested and absorbed early on in the digestive tract, can give the colon a break. Further, burning ketones can heal the gut as the primary ketone, betahydroxybutryrate, is food for gut cells (we often hear about butyrate in the context of eating fibre).
Advocates of Carnivore talk about appetite control, abundant energy, healthy digestion, clear skin and effortless ease in maintaining a healthy body weight. I wanted this. I also wanted to feel more connected to my body and its energy processes. I wanted agency over my food cravings. I felt my appetite was out of control and my body needed something it wasn’t getting or couldn’t access.
Within the first 24 hours of Carnivore, my brain fog lifted. After the first week, I dropped 12 lbs . It felt like emerging from the fog into sunshine, and tossing off a heavy cloak.
I felt fully nourished for the first time in a long time. I ate a lot of fat, meat, eggs and even dairy. I felt energized. My appetite calmed down. I woke up in the morning, and instead of rushing something down my throat, I made myself a coffee and felt hunger slowly creep in.
I would prepare a big breakfast of meat and eggs that would hold me until the mid-afternoon. The food noise died down. My brain felt supercharged- I could think again. Even after long hours of talking to patients or working at the computer, I felt my brain could keep going and going and going. I no longer got that white noise static electricity that I associated with oxidative stress caused by overworking my neurons.
My mental health was better than it had ever been. I felt calm, persistent brain energy and agency over my thoughts. I felt emotionally stable and resilient. Nothing seemed to phase me. I felt strong.
I felt great. My original intention was to do the diet for a couple of weeks, but after the first week, I thought, I can do this forever! This is my diet, it’s my way of eating, something about it felt right. It was also the dead of winter. What would I be surviving on if I were in the wild right now? No fruits and vegetables were around; the ground was covered in snow. I would be hunting and killing animals and surviving on their meat. This way of eating felt aligned with the season, and I believe it was what my body needed at the time.
My brain and body thrived on the ketones. I had no cravings. Even on my birthday, I just wanted a nice ribeye steak. I couldn’t care less about cake, potatoes, or any other exciting comfort foods we look forward to on birthdays.
It was hard to sustain the diet on vacation. When I went to Ecuador in late February, I decided to let go of Carnivore and eat what was available. Because of the sun, surf, walking and relaxed vibe, I felt good in Ecuador, but my body felt far from magical. I dealt with chronic gut issues, miserable period cramps and a three-day migraine throughout my time there. On the plane ride back, I was ready to restart Carnivore and found it relatively easy to jump right back in the following day.
I hesitated to talk about my experience on Carnivore even three months into the experience. I felt great. My body felt like an efficient engine, burning fuel cleanly. However, the food was all…well, brown. And salty. And I often felt dehydrated. Also, after the initial drop in weight, I had stalled.
Grocery shopping was a strange experience. It felt surreal to be surrounded by all this… food. Stuff that wasn’t a part of my day at all. It wasn’t the snacks or chips or candy or even the carbs that tempted me. It was the rainbow of fruits and vegetables that greeted me every time I wheeled my cart into the store.
The fruits were shiny and colourful, advertising their sweet, hydrating juices and vitamins. Glycogen, or stored carbs in our muscles and liver, hold water in our bodies. On a low-carb diet, we often burn through our glycogen stores. If there was one thing I craved on Carnivore, it was the sweet hydration of juice.
One day, I was browsing Instagram and saw a comment on a popular account about glucose regulation. The account features a biochemist/influencer who shows a series of continuous glucose monitor graphs and discusses the glucose response to food. Her methods feature tips like “add fat to your carbs to lower your glucose spike.” This post highlighted how adding fat to starches (like hummus, which adds fats like olive oil and tahini to starchy chickpeas) can reduce the height of a glucose spike, helping to regulate blood sugar.
This is something I often coach my patients on, as blood sugar regulation is the key to mood stability, mental health, cognitive energy, and adrenal function, among so many other things. Interesting how I was kind of wrong about that.
The comment that caught my eye was written by a PhD who pointed out that while adding fat and carbs together can lower a glucose spike, it does not change the height and area under the curve of the insulin spike. Adding fat to starches might make the insulin response to food larger, even if it’s curbing and controlling the rise in glucose. It hit me then. We’ve been focusing on the wrong thing. I assumed glucose and insulin were like two twins on a tandem bike. One rises, and the other one joins in. Seesaw, yin and yang. But I started connecting the dots from the cases of patients I’ve seen, my experience, and third-year biochemistry. Yeesh, it’s all about insulin.
I remembered something else, too: the Insulin Index.
88-90% of humans are insulin resistant. We can’t access our fat stores or the energy from our food because we have chronically high insulin levels and unresponsive cells. Insulin’s main job (or maybe its most famous job) is to help drive glucose into shelves. You consume starch, glucose explodes onto the scene, and insulin puts it all away for you. It stores the sugar as glycogen and fat, and your body burns those later for energy.
Naturally, whatever causes a rise in blood glucose will also cause a rise in blood insulin. But sometimes, glucose isn’t rising on a continuous glucose monitor because insulin has already lept onto the scene to bring sugar down. Further, some foods, like whey protein and milk, don’t spike glucose much but will have a (significant) impact on insulin levels.
The commenter, Dr. Ali Chappell, PhD, described herself as an insulin researcher. Her research involves examining the effects of a low-insulin spiking diet on PCOS (an insulin-resistant hormonal condition that affects about 10% of women). The Low Insulin lifestyle was tested on various women who reliably lost 19 lbs in two months without counting, eating as much fruit, non-starchy vegetables, nuts and seeds and animal protein as they wanted. When I discovered Dr. Ali Chappell, I had just been hired to do a course on Insulin Resistance, which involved researching the manifestations and solutions to keeping ourselves metabolically healthy.
While a low-carb or Ketogenic diet like the carnivore diet can certainly heal metabolic dysfunction, it didn’t feel right to recommend this lifestyle to patients. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, for starters, and something in my soul was starting to miss fruit and vegetables. As part of my course research, I began to dive deeper into the low-insulin lifestyle.
Some bells started to ring for me. At the same time, my good friend was struggling on Carnivore because, while she felt great, she was breastfeeding, and the diet was affecting her milk supply. I shared with her what I learned about the Low Insulin Lifestyle. She started on the diet and, within a few days, told me her cravings and hunger were diminished. She was dropping her weight-loss-resistant belly fat like a stone.
After she had been on it for a week, I followed. I was ready to add more colour to my life. I removed the whey protein and dairy I had been eating, thinking it was fine and not realizing it was impacting my insulin. I added more fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds. I had dark chocolate again!
The variety was lovely. My gut was ready for fibre again, particularly the soft, gooey, juicy fibres from fruit. It felt good to fill my stomach with bulk. And it felt terrific to eat so many colours and textures of food.
Weight loss that had stalled for months after that initial drop on Carnivore kicked up again. My appetite chilled out, and I felt nourished again. I realized this eating pattern had been something I stumbled on from time to time: my trip to Brazil in 2020, my first forays with Paleo, even following the guidance of a microbiome test I did in 2021. However, none of these experiences involved intentionally targeting insulin. I would often eat starches like sweet potatoes or rice. I sometimes cut out fruit, with its fructose, which has a minimal impact on insulin.
This finally clicked things into place for me. It helped create a framework to encase my intuition around food and what humans should eat.
I was consuming whole, natural foods our ancestors would have consumed. Unprocessed plants and animals. Lots of healthy fats. Lots of sugar from fruit. Phytochemicals from colourful plants. Protein and nourishing fat from meat, eggs and some yogurt or cheese. I ate berries and burgers. Salads, broccoli and asparagus. I had sausages with organic tomato sauce. So many bacon and eggs breakfasts. I had nuts and seeds and pumpkin seed butter. I had dark chocolate and bananas. Pistachios. Shawarma meat and salad (hold the rice). It was easy to make decisions and figure out what to eat.
Looking back, I think glucose intolerance has plagued my whole life. It has affected my body and my relationship with food. It led to years of binge eating that only stopped if I ate more consistently. Protein helped immensely.
When things started to feel off, I consulted with a family doctor. I ordered some bloodwork through her and did some myself. My fasting insulin levels and insulin sensitivity (HOMA-IR) value were normal. However, when we eat foods spike insulin, it can cause a post-prandial (i.e., post-meal) rise in insulin that can stay elevated all day, as we go from one meal to the next. It can spike hunger and cravings, causing us to eat and continue to boost insulin. While hyperinsulinemia can lead to insulin resistance, I don’t think my body was there quite yet. I was raising my insulin levels, blocking my body’s access to energy stores and driving the hunger, inflammation and heaviness I was feeling.
Insulin sensitivity and glucose tolerance tend to shift as our hormones change through our late 30s and 40s. As estrogen and progesterone levels change, insulin levels increase, and we become more insulin resistant. This explained that shift I felt. The old patterns of diet and exercise I was engaging in weren’t working either. I needed to be more intentional with the way I was eating and exercising.
I started adding in more resistance training, scheduling in weights and high intensity interval training two to three times a week in addition to my yoga, swimming, and walks. The carbs from fruit helped fuel my muscles. I felt myself shift out of that parasympathetic shutdown state. I watched my nervous system enjoy more flexibility.
In a few weeks, I will start filming my course on insulin resistance. Then, it will go to editing. I’ll let you know when it’s time for it to be released. The course has been a gift. It allowed me the space and time to dive deep into the research and start putting various bits and pieces together. Metabolic dysfunction is the great health crisis of our age. I’m becoming more and more convinced that it drives so many of the common concerns we see in natural medicine practices: SIBO and candida overgrowth, adrenal fatigue, estrogen dominance, and chronic inflammation. There is a whole budding field of mental health called “metabolic psychiatry” that examines the role that insulin resistance has on mood and brain health.
Until proven otherwise, if a patient is dealing with high insulin, we must address this as a potential root cause that ties together all their concerns.
The medical establishment often overlooks insulin resistance, as the primary focus is on diabetes, which represents a later stage on the disease continuum. Decades of dietary advice have also set us up for metabolic inflexibility and an overabundance of dietary glucose that overworks insulin and blocks our ability to use energy for brain and body health.
The good news is that I believe the solution is simple. Eat a diet that leaves insulin alone: animal protein, nuts and seeds, fruits, non-starchy vegetables and healthy fats. Leave aside the starches (grains, legumes, root vegetables) and sugar. Add in some higher intensity training and work your muscles. With this approach, we have the start of a full-blown health revolution on our hands.
Stay tuned for more podcasts and courses on this topic in the coming months!
