Someone recently asked me how long it’s taken to get to where I am now. My answer? A lifetime.
I’ve battled disordered eating and body dysmorphia for as long as I can remember. High School was the first time the cupboards at home were full, and starving myself was no longer an option. I had to get more creative. Always hiding what I did or didn’t eat, finding ways to cover up what came back up. Those unhealthy eating habits quickly spiraled into a full-blown eating disorder, one I carried into adulthood.
As an adult, I found a new way to hide my struggles: alcohol. It became my cover. Starve, binge, purge, repeat. I thought no one would notice when I was always drunk or hungover. And trust me, I was always drunk or hungover.
I didn’t begin to open up about my eating disorder until after my son was born eight years ago. Even then, I only shared bits and pieces of my story because I was embarrassed. I was afraid of judgment. But the more I shared, the more I started to heal.
Then, in 2021, I hit a breaking point. A relapse scared the hell out of me. At that point Hunter was five years old, and he saw and heard everything. I knew I had no choice but to make lasting changes.
It wasn’t easy. But after successfully completing 75 Hard two years in a row, doing the hardest inner work of my life, and completely overhauling my relationship with food, I started to fall in love with myself and my body for the first time ever. I rediscovered my love for lifting weights and reignited a little dream my teenage self once had: to be a bodybuilder someday. Now, at 40 years old, I’m chasing that dream.
This journey has taken my entire life. I’ve made every mistake possible. I’ve learned the hard way that food was never the problem. Alcohol was never the problem. The real problem was my refusal to face and heal from the traumas of my past.
Now, I’m committed to doing things the healthy way. One day at a time. This is a lifetime journey, and I mean it when I say: if I can do it, so can you. 🫶🏼
