I’ve been through some very dark moments when it comes to my relationship with food and my body. I know what it feels like to be trapped in a cycle of disordered eating and yo-yo dieting, where every day felt like a struggle. I remember “eating well” all day, only to find myself binging in the middle of the night, feeling defeated and ashamed. I know the frustration of sticking to a strict diet from Monday through Thursday, only to watch all my progress unravel over the weekend.

At one point, my shame around my body was so overwhelming that I was too insecure to raise my hand in college classes—which was over a decade ago—afraid that drawing attention to myself would also draw attention to my arms. My self-esteem had plummeted to an all-time low, and I felt completely powerless in my own skin. I felt like a floating head, completely detached from the body that I hated.

In an attempt to regain control, I threw myself into studying nutrition. I thought if I could just eat nutritiously, everything would fall into place. I shifted from eating gross 100-calorie packs of Chips Ahoy in order to adhere to my calorie “allotment” for the day to understanding the benefits of whole foods. But no matter how healthy I ate, though, I still felt compulsive around food. I cycled through phases—juicing all summer, going vegan another summer—but nothing seemed to touch the deeper emotional turmoil that was fueling my eating behaviors.

In 2016, something shifted. After years of gaining and losing the same 10 pounds, I hit a breaking point and decided to give up dieting entirely. It felt like a last-ditch effort, a Hail Mary, but I was desperate for something different—something that could bring peace to my mind and protect my mental health. I was pleasantly surprised when, instead of gaining weight, my weight remained stable while my compulsive eating began to decrease. But even then, I knew it was just one piece of a much bigger puzzle.

In 2017, I had a breakthrough. I created the Stop, Drop, & Feel^® technique, a practice that allowed me to confront the emotions that I had no idea where fueling my compulsive eating. Whenever I felt the urge to eat without hunger, I would drop into my emotions, and time after time, something big would come up—often loneliness or sadness. These were the emotions I had been eating away for years. As I worked on tolerating these uncomfortable feelings, my compulsive eating began to decrease.

It wasn’t easy. Building emotional resilience takes time, and there were moments when I wanted to give up. But as the years went by, my relationship with food slowly transformed. Today, I live in recovery from compulsive eating. I don’t like to say I’m “recovered” because I believe recovery is an ongoing process, but I haven’t experienced night eating or felt regret after a meal in years. And that, for me, is a huge victory.

There were countless setbacks and struggles, moments when I felt completely lost. In hindsight, the path looks clear, but at the time, it felt like I was clumsily fumbling my way through, unsure if I was making any real progress. If you feel like you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, trust me—you’re not alone. It wasn’t an easy path, but step by step, I moved from darkness to light.

It’s my mission now to help others do the same—to bring positive light to an otherwise dark place. That’s why I created my online courses and coaching services, so others can find the tools they need to feel normal and at peace around food.