My Journey with Disordered Eating

Trigger Warning: This post discusses eating disorders and may be triggering for some. Please be mindful before proceeding.

I struggled with an eating disorder for over 11 years, and for much of that time, I battled alone, in secret. The worst part of having an eating disorder is the overwhelming shame. For so long, I believed there was something deeply wrong with me—that I was the only one going through it. I thought I lacked willpower and that everything was my fault. But what I’ve since learned is that my body was simply trying to keep me alive.

For me, everything was tied to body image. Growing up, I remember the moms in our social circle talking about dieting and how they "needed to lose a few pounds." I was a very active child, and my mom ensured we ate balanced meals. While I’ve always had a sweet tooth, I didn’t think much about food until later. Looking back, though, there were hints of an unhealthy relationship with food, even at a young age.

Things escalated in college. I played basketball my freshman year, and between daily practices and workouts, I ate a lot to fuel my body. I’d always been naturally thin from years of athletics. But when I quit basketball, things began to unravel. I started paying attention to my roommates’ constant discussions about what they ate, their gym routines, and their pursuit of weight loss. I began ignoring hunger cues and started fixating on the little bit of belly fat I had. Gradually, I began obsessing over my diet and weight.

To complicate things further, I was in an unhealthy relationship. Without diving too deep into it, that relationship made me equate my self-worth with my weight. I began severely under-eating and over-training, and my body responded by gaining weight despite my efforts. I’d restrict my diet for months, lose weight, and then binge once the diet ended, only to regain the weight (and then some). I became consumed by thoughts of food—constantly thinking about my next meal. My roommates praised my self-control during diets, reinforcing my disordered eating. Between the toxic relationship, societal pressures, college stress, and everything else, I felt completely overwhelmed. I spent my college years on a rollercoaster of weight loss, weight gain, and fluctuating self-worth based solely on how I looked.

After college, I started spending more time alone, masking my disordered behaviors. I would often decline social plans, especially if alcohol was involved, because drinking made it harder for me to "control" myself. Ironically, staying home alone often led to binge eating. I’d eat far more than I would have at a social event and end the night filled with shame. The next morning, I’d punish myself by working out excessively and severely restricting my food intake, beginning the vicious cycle all over again.

At this point, I was out of the unhealthy relationship, but unresolved trauma left me with very little self-worth. A distinct memory is visiting my grandparents. When I was thin, they praised me and asked about my weight loss. When I’d gained a few pounds, they said nothing, but their silence spoke volumes. One visit, my grandmother blatantly told me I needed to eat less and lose weight. Before visiting them, I started doing "colon cleanses," where I wouldn’t eat for 5-7 days and would take laxatives to “clean out my system” so I’d be slimmer. Typing this out now, I realize how heartbreaking and unhealthy this was, but unfortunately, this is a reality for many young girls.

This behavior continued for years, and I often wondered, “Is this what my life is going to be like forever?” or “I can’t wait to get pregnant so I can gain weight and finally eat whatever I want without being judged.”

In 2019, I moved to Denver, and my disordered eating seemed to be in a better place. I had read about easing up on restriction, and it helped. But I was still under-eating and doing HIIT workouts five days a week until my body finally said enough. One day, during a workout, I became extremely dizzy. I stopped, made it home, but could barely walk my dog afterward. I thought I was getting sick, but I never developed any symptoms aside from crushing fatigue. Days turned into weeks, then months, and doctors told me that on paper, I was perfectly healthy.

I couldn’t work out anymore, couldn’t go on hikes, and struggled to get through the workday. I felt incredibly isolated, dealing with a challenging time in my family on top of everything. I was eventually recommended to see a functional doctor, who diagnosed gut issues and placed me on a highly restrictive diet. I followed it meticulously, only to be told later that I needed to follow a different, equally restrictive diet. At that point, I drew the line. I couldn’t do it anymore. The nutritionist told me, “That’s ok, I have other clients with more willpower who stick to it.” Hearing this after all my hard work was devastating and sent my disordered eating into overdrive.

By chance, I stumbled upon a podcast featuring someone sharing her experience with disordered eating. Her story resonated deeply with me. She stressed the importance of seeking professional help, and after much consideration, I finally found a nutritionist in Denver who specialized in disordered eating.

Working with her was life-changing. I learned that I wasn’t alone—that my experience is tragically common. She taught me about intuitive eating and helped me rebuild a healthier relationship with food.

I won’t pretend that I’m completely healed. The truth is, my eating disorder will probably linger in the background for the rest of my life. It still shows up from time to time, but now I can recognize it and I have tools to manage it. If you’re struggling with disordered eating, I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to seek professional help. I worked with a woman named Connie, and she was amazing—check her out! If not, make sure you find a certified nutritionist with specialized training in eating disorders.

While my struggle with an eating disorder was one of the most challenging and isolating experiences of my life, I don’t regret it. In fact, it has shaped who I am today as a hormonal health coach. My journey taught me to be compassionate, non-judgmental, and understanding toward the women I work with, especially those healing their relationship with food. It’s allowed me to support my clients with more empathy and a deeper appreciation for how interconnected our mental and physical health are. I’m committed to helping women find balance in a way that honors their bodies and natural rhythms, without shame or guilt.