An Intro to Me: How I Found My Way to Myself and to This Work
TW: eating disorders and other related struggles.
How it All Began
My struggle with food and my body didn’t start all at once—it crept in like an uninvited guest and refused to leave. By the time I was 11 or 12, I became acutely aware of my body size, courtesy of well-meaning adults who thought the best solution to an awkward teen’s growth spurt was Weight Watchers and a personal trainer. Spoiler: it wasn’t.
That’s when my relationship with food and my body really started to unravel. Over the years, I cycled through phases of strict diets, food obsession, compulsive exercising, and other behaviors that felt like control but were actually the opposite. And at its most extreme, there was bulimia—a pattern that would resurface during some of the hardest moments of my life.
For nearly 20 years, I lived in this exhausting cycle, clinging to the idea that if I could just fix my body, everything else would magically fall into place. Spoiler #2: it didn’t.
The Breaking Point
Fast-forward to 2 months before my 30th birthday. On the outside, I was doing everything “right.” I was in an MBA program, working a demanding job, on a weight loss journey, and somehow managing to keep my life together—or at least it looked that way.
But behind the scenes, I was crumbling. I was deeply unwell, battling depression and when I couldn’t maintain my strict diet, began the worst bout of bulimia of my life. My job drained me, my coursework pushed me to my limits, and my days felt like a relentless cycle of trying to hold everything together while quietly falling apart.
I swore I’d be fine. I told myself it wasn’t that bad. That is, until the day I realized I might not actually make it out alive if I didn’t stop. And the most unnerving part looking back: it wasn’t even the fear of death that paused me in my tracks; it was the thought of people finding out my secret if I didn’t survive. The idea of everyone knowing what I’d been hiding felt worse than anything else.
That realization—that I was risking my life because I couldn’t let anyone see my struggle—became the spark I needed to take my first steps toward recovery.
A Turn Towards Healing
Recovery wasn’t quick or neat. It was messy and nonlinear, full of stops and starts (and even a relapse 5 months in). But what surprised me most wasn’t how hard it was—it was how lonely it felt.
For years, I had waged this battle completely alone, compartmentalizing my life so no one could get close enough to see the cracks. I undoubtedly burdened everyone when I was in other disordered eating phases (like when I was a Keto diet proselytizer), and even lied to my healthcare providers - probably the most dangerous decision I made.
No one knew the full story. But as I began to open up, I realized just how much that isolation had made things harder. And I started to wonder: What if people didn’t have to go through this alone? What if there were spaces where we could talk about these things without shame?
That question planted the seed for the work I do now, almost six years later.
The Heart and the Science
This work is both deeply personal and firmly grounded in evidence. I bring a mix of lived experience and professional expertise to help people navigate their relationships with food and their bodies.
I’ve always been a science nerd, which is probably why I approach things the way I do. My degree in physiological science from UCLA led me to two years of research in nutritional physiology—looking at the very systems that connect what we eat to how our bodies respond. Later, I shifted to the social side of things, studying the psychology of stigma and bias. Add in an MBA in organizational psychology, and you get someone who spends way too much time analyzing systems and patterns.
But let’s be real—what drives me isn’t just academic curiosity. It’s personal. I know what it’s like to feel trapped in a cycle of shame and self-criticism, to carry a secret that feels too heavy to share, to believe your worth is tied to your size. And I know how life-changing it is to start breaking free from that.
That’s why I focus on creating spaces where people can feel seen and supported. Whether it’s through one-on-one coaching or fostering community, I’m here to help people untangle the messages they’ve been given about their bodies and start rewriting those narratives.
Taking Up Space
Here’s what I’ve learned: diet culture and weight stigma don’t just harm us—they lie to us. The idea that your worth is tied to your size? That’s bad science and worse logic. The truth is, there’s no one way to be healthy, happy, or whole.
For me, this work feels especially important for LGBTQ+ folks, whose struggles with food and body image are often overlooked or misunderstood. Our experiences don’t always fit neatly into the narratives that dominate these conversations, and the harm that can cause is immeasurable.
Recovery isn’t linear, and it doesn’t look the same for everyone. But whether you’re here to figure out your next step, reframe how you see your body, or just connect with someone who gets it—I’m here for it.
Because here’s the truth: you deserve to take up space. You deserve to eat the cake without guilt. And you deserve to know your worth has never been up for negotiation.
Let’s figure it out together.
