My adult life has been a series of shadowed valleys, uphill climbs, and glimpses of sunlit horizons. I didn’t begin my life consumed by the struggles that define much of my story today. I was a happy-go-lucky girl navigating the usual highs and lows of adolescence. But over time, my focus on body image began to grow, slowly and almost imperceptibly. By my sophomore year of college, I had my first binge. It felt confusing, almost like an anomaly. Weeks passed before it happened again. Then months. But what seemed like a rare event soon became a regular occurrence.

​

After two years, I couldn’t deny it anymore—this wasn’t going away on its own. Recognizing the problem was difficult, especially since binge eating disorder (BED) had only recently been named as an official eating disorder in 2013, right around the time I began struggling. With few resources and even fewer answers, I knew I wasn’t dealing with anorexia or bulimia, but I also couldn’t put a name to what I was experiencing.

Therapy wasn’t an option for me at the time—I simply couldn’t afford it. So I began creating my own path to recovery. I opened up to the people I trusted and devised a plan that addressed my triggers, incorporating research, reflection, and an abundance of patience. It wasn’t a perfect process, but it worked. Slowly but surely, I began to heal.

​

Two years after overcoming BED,  I relapsed. It was a devastating experience to go from fully believing binge eating was in my past to finding myself back in the cycle. But this time, it didn’t last as long. The tools I had developed helped me recover much faster, and the experience taught me an important truth about healing: it isn’t linear. Recovery doesn’t mean you’ll never struggle again—it means learning how to respond when challenges arise.

​

Even as I overcame binge eating, I realized I hadn’t addressed the deeper roots of my struggles. My focus shifted toward obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), manifesting as relentless rumination. My mind fixates on insecurities, second-guesses decisions, and replays moments I wish had gone differently. A significant part of my OCD revolves around relationships, making dating feel like an overwhelming challenge. For years, I thought it was easier to remain alone, but I’ve since realized that avoiding relationships isn’t the solution—it’s just another form of isolation.

​

I began OCD-specific therapy, which gave me tools to manage my spirals and triggers. However, due to its expense, I could only attend for a few months. To ensure I still have guidance and support, I returned to working with my previous therapist, who was the one who had referred me to the OCD specialist. My current therapist helps me in other areas of my life and continues to provide the encouragement I need as I navigate this journey. This process has taught me that healing is far from over—it’s an ongoing cycle of learning and evolving, finding strength in every challenge.

​

Beyond my mental health journey, I’ve always found solace in creativity. I love to read and write, passions that have followed me from my college days as an English major to my profession and now to building this website. I spent my first 29 years in Connecticut, finally moving to Tennessee in 2023, bringing me closer to warmer weather. However, it still gets too cold for my liking—I dream of a future by the beach, where the waves and sunshine will inspire my next chapter.

​

When I’m not writing or soaking up the sun, I work in marketing with the aspiration of becoming a Chief Marketing Officer one day. My work reflects my ability to transform creative ideas and strong messaging into impactful, results-driven marketing strategies.

​

If you’re here, it’s likely because you’ve faced struggles of your own. I want you to know that you’re not alone. I share my journey, because I understand how isolating these battles can feel, and I hope my story inspires you to take the next step in yours. Healing is possible, one moment, one decision, one day at a time.