My Story

Hi there! Welcome to my blog, The Healthusiast. I believe that to make a lasting change for your health, you have to be enthusiastic. There is so much to be enthused about when you're healthy, and so much becomes possible. It's about unlocking that sense of awe and wonder and general excitement about life that is hard to tap into when you don't feel your best. Health-enthusiasm keeps you going even when the going gets tough.

The first step to unlocking that sense of awe is to examine your story: what brought you to where you are? What's motivating you to change? What narrative will keep you going and help you persevere? It's taken a long time for me to finally feel comfortable sharing my story because I used to believe that it was so unremarkable that it didn’t warrant a retelling. However, the more I delve into this industry and uncover the reasons why I want to make it my career, I realize that everyone’s story is worthy of telling. It doesn’t matter how mundane it may sound to you: it’s going to resonate with someone, somewhere.

Without further ado, here's my story (it's a little lengthy, so bear with me!):

     It starts out simply enough. Growing up, I was a theater kid with a distinct flair for the dramatic. The irony about being a theater kid is that the better you get at developing characters, the harder it becomes to grow into your own personality. At least that was my experience. I didn’t know who I was in middle or high school. I assumed roles based on what I presumed was expected of me. I was painfully insecure and self-conscious, more comfortable playing a role than being myself.

A lot of my insecurity and self-consciousness was borne of my dissatisfaction with my physical appearance. I developed a bit of what I’ll call “fat phobia” in middle school that manifested into an eating disorder. By age 12, I was in therapy and nutritional counseling. Throughout this period of time, I remained physically active in school-and-extracurricular sports. I didn’t excel at team sports, and never really enjoyed them. My self-perceived failure at these activities served only to deepen my insecurities and drive me further towards disordered eating and a skewed body image.

     My self-esteem and body issues didn’t recede when I went off to college; in fact, they were reinforced. I was no longer the Big Fish in the Small Pond. Rather, I was one of many young women competing for grades, internships, and attention from boys. I also discovered alcohol. It did not mix well with my anxious tendencies and neuroses, to say the least. The few years after college were no better. I felt directionless and unmoored. I found a job that I enjoyed, but despite the financial stability afforded me, I was far from satisfied. It sounds trite, but I wasn’t happy and I didn’t know how to get there.

     2009-2011 were very difficult. Superficially, I had a charmed life. Perception, however, is only a fraction of reality. Beyond the surface lurked demons that I could not bear to face. These so-called demons came out in insidious ways. For example, I put on weight; I had a couple of short-lived romantic relationships with men who were terrible for me, and I had a couple of bad annual checkups with my doctor. At one memorable checkup, my doctor my doctor prescribed medication for hypertension. What?! High blood pressure at 24? It was surreal; so surreal that it didn’t register for me, and nothing about my behaviors changed. It just goes to show how powerful the mind is and how human beings would, in many instances, prefer to put themselves in harm’s way than choose to change. I hadn’t yet hit rock bottom.

     For me, rock bottom was the coalescence of several factors that landed me in the emergency room—twice. But let’s back up a bit first: In 2010, I applied and was accepted into Columbia University’s Master’s program in Cultural Anthropology. I enrolled and started taking classes part-time for no other reason other than I “knew” that I “had to” get a Master’s (that’s just what you do), and I studied Anthropology as an undergraduate and enjoyed it. This rigid thinking and refusal to really examine WHY I was enrolled contributed to feelings of alienation, anxiety and general depression. I thought I would be validated by acceptance into a top university and furthering my education, but I was wrong. All those months that I let these feelings fester, failed to reach out to loved ones for help or guidance, and just drew into myself culminated in two visits to the ER with a persistent—and painful—ulcer. This was my rock bottom.

     I finally found the courage to quit school. I started seeing a therapist who really helped me get control of my anxiety. I moved into my own apartment (no more roommates!). I started dating a wonderful man. And most importantly, I took responsibility for my health.

     Up to this point, my body and my diet were topics about which I obsessed but hardly understood. I was totally disconnected from my body, which was sending me so many signals about how distressed it was. From the foods I fed it to the workouts I put it through, my body was rebelling. I suffered from debilitating migraines, bloating, and fatigue on a regular basis. To add insult to injury, I wasn’t losing any weight. I felt softer and more uncomfortable in my own skin than I ever had before.

Despite my symptoms, it never occurred to me to examine my eating habits and exercise patterns. I continued to operate based on the notion that I could eat whatever I wanted as long as I worked out to compensate. These “guilt-motivated workouts” involved tons of cardio, particularly long-distance running which I took up with ferocity. Little did I know that these long endurance workouts increased my appetite to the point that I undid almost all my caloric expenditure, whilst my exceedingly inefficient metabolism consumed my precious muscle tissue!

     It took a little cajoling, but a co-worker eventually convinced me to sign up for my first half marathon. This was another turning point for me. By the time I finished training and completed the race, I’d lost several pounds and was the lightest I’d been since high school. I was also riding high from the confidence boost I got from achieving a goal. Subsequently, I completed a handful of shorter races, but I felt like something was missing. Sure, I looked thin, but I didn’t look—or feel—fit. On top of it all, I started experiencing overuse injuries, like shin splints, mild knee pain, and Achilles tendon soreness. I also started to notice that my yoga practice was suffering from the stiffness and soreness brought on by the increased mileage. In an effort to figure out how I could take my training to the next level, I started to read: blogs, Facebook pages, Twitter, etc. I immersed myself in fitness, health, wellness, nutrition, etc.; and what I learned formed the foundation of what would become my passion.

     What I discovered in my research profoundly changed the way I approach training and nutrition. The more I read, the less alone I felt. I realized that there are so many women in the fitness industry whose experiences mirror my own. I realized that my struggles are more common than I ever imagined. It was comforting to read about real women’s strategies to overcome their addictive and unhealthy behaviors related to food and exercise. I asked myself: if they can make a career out of it, why can’t I?

     Fast forward several months, and I’d ditched long distance running in favor of strength training and HIIT for cardio. Training with heavy dumbbells, barbells, kettlebells and bodyweight transformed my physique. Circuit training, compound exercises, complexes, and short, intense bursts of cardio improved my anabolic threshold and helped me burn stubborn fat. I ditched most processed food for whole foods, with an emphasis on protein and healthy fats. I rediscovered the joy of movement, and my entire perspective shifted. I became more emotionally resilient. I learned not to take life too seriously, and to give myself the benefit of the doubt. I don’t recall an “a-ha” moment, but I remember realizing, slowly, but with increasing certainty, that I had discovered my passion: I want to help people transform their health and their perspectives about exercise and nutrition. I want to help people be unapologetically and enthusiastically in love with fitness, health, and most importantly, themselves.