Like many people, I had a long journey that led me to eating the foods that are healthy for me. I battled eating disorders and perfectionistic tendencies, punished and rewarded myself with food, ran for hours to soothe emotional pains I didn't understand or didn't want to process, loaded up on disgusting artificial food in an attempt to trick my brain and body into thinking they are being nourished, and pushed people away so that I can hide all that was wrong inside of me. I felt ugly and damaged and unworthy, and there was no amount of running and no amount of sugar and no amount of starvation that was going to make all that go away.
My wake-up call developed over many years. Severe food intolerances, physical pains, fertility problems, and autoimmune issues gave me a nudge, but it was the detected fluid around my heart that finally scared the daylights out of me.
And perhaps it wasn't my heart that scared me enough. Perhaps I was just tired of feeling sick, and tired of not living and not giving of myself fully to anyone, and really tired of hating myself. So, I decided I had enough and I decided I was going to change. I had reached the tipping point of how much self-abuse I was going to endure, and made dramatic changes in the way I ate and the way I spoke to myself and the way I treated my body. While the road to health has not been an easy one, and while some damage cannot be undone, I am scared to think about where I would've been now had I not made some real decisions and changes.
Because I always wish I had the strength or the tools or the understanding to make those changes years before the damage was irrevocable, I chose the profession that I am in with that purpose in mind. While I had many people on my side, it felt like nobody in the world understood, and I felt all alone and hopeless. I want to be that person that helps other people feel hopeful and supported and empowered and equipped, and, more importantly, not alone.