Food was love in my family. In many ways, it still is.
I remember walking into my grandparents' house and knowing that whether I had just eaten or not, more food was coming. Food meant family. It meant joy, togetherness, celebration, comfort, and life itself. And for that, I'll always be grateful.
But over time, food became more than that.
If I was tired, I reached for something. If I was bored, something went into my mouth. If I was upset, food was there too. In our house, it was everywhere. I used to joke that my mom ran a mini Costco. There were chips, candy, frozen pizza, sausage rolls, bread, ice cream, fruit, meats, cheeses, canned foods, and snacks in endless supply.
As a kid, it felt awesome. I never questioned it. We had free rein over whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted it. Sure, sometimes we got told off for eating too much of something, but the boundaries were never really there. Looking back now, I can see how that pattern of reaching outside myself for relief didn't stop at food. It followed me into other addictions later in life too.
At the same time, I was deeply aware of my weight.
I remember the anxiety of school swimming, knowing I had to take my shirt off. Even when I eventually got in the water and joined in, there was always that gnawing fear underneath it all. That people would make fun of me. That I would be judged. That maybe I wouldn't be liked because I was overweight.
That anxiety stayed with me for years.
After high school, when I moved overseas, I went through a wave of depression that hit hard. In just six months, I went from 135 pounds to 195. But even in the middle of that darkness, there was a part of me that wanted to understand. A part of me that kept asking why this was happening to me, and what was really underneath it.
It wasn't until a brutal separation later in life that everything came to a head. I was using drugs and food to suffocate what I didn't know how to face. I finally saw a psychologist, and within a few sessions I was introduced to meditation, self-inquiry, and parts work.
That was the beginning. Not the finish line.
The road after that was far from straight. It took me another six years of falling, searching, learning, and starting again before I could truly sit with myself in the dark and be okay there.
And only more recently, through my work with Step Together, have I been able to fully recognize just how much ADHD shaped this whole journey. The impulsivity. The compulsive consumption. The constant drive for stimulation. For so much of my life, I thought I simply lacked discipline. Now I understand that my brain was wired differently, and that understanding changed everything.
How I'm Uniquely Positioned to Help
What makes this work so meaningful to me is that I have lived it.
I know what it feels like to struggle with food. I know what it feels like to live with shame, impulsivity, and patterns that seem bigger than you. I also know what it takes to begin healing those patterns, not by fighting yourself, but by understanding yourself.
My path has taken me through personal training, running and managing a health and wellness venue in Australia, becoming a certified health and life coach, and more recently earning my nutritional therapy certification. Over the years, I've worked with people of all ages, from children to grandparents, helping them rebuild trust with their body and reconnect with themselves.
What matters most to me is helping children avoid carrying the same pain into adulthood.
Why I Joined Step Together
That is why Step Together resonated with me so deeply. At the time, I was building my own business helping adults work through their inner challenges. Then I met Kamy and learned about the mission behind this work. It stopped me in my tracks. It made me ask a bigger question:
What if we could help families address these patterns before they become lifelong struggles?
What if we could help parents shift what gets passed down?
I was sold.
Because when you help a family heal, you are not just changing one child's life. You are changing the emotional trajectory of an entire household, and sometimes generations after that.
Now, being on this side of the work, I've seen it again and again. Families experience breakthroughs they never thought were possible. Children soften. Parents understand themselves more deeply. The whole family grows.
It is not easy work. But it is deeply meaningful work.
What I Want Every Parent to Hear
And if there is one thing I would want every parent to hear, it is this:
A child's relationship with food is never just about food.
There is a deep connection between our emotional world and the way we eat, cope, and live in our bodies. Without a healthy relationship with ourselves, it becomes very hard to build a healthy relationship with food.
So much of what we see on the surface, whether it is overeating, weight gain, compulsive habits, or disconnection from the body, is often a symptom of something deeper.
When we begin to understand that with compassion instead of shame, everything can start to change.
