I’ve Actually Lived It Myself.

I understand the thoughts, feelings, frustrations and the shame. The despair, the endless looping in circles, the failing, the trying a myriad diets, over and over. 20 years ago, I experienced the lowest point in my life. I was a student at Oxford University and I was at the mercy of cravings and an eating disorder that had overtaken my life. I kept telling myself I just had to get through the next set of exams, and then I promised myself I’d find a solution. In the meantime bingeing and purging had become part of my everyday life. I was spending a lot of money on food each week. I was throwing up at least once a day. And I was smoking up to 2 packs of cigarettes a day in an attempt to cut my appetite and curb the compulsion to binge.

By then the battle had already been going for over five years.

I had so much shame around what I was doing that I didn’t want to tell anyone. I’d constantly try and stop – and try some other eating approach – but then the old familiar compulsion would start building up and I’d repeatedly break my resolve. I was terrified people knew. I’d get massively defensive if anybody got near the topic. I just acted as if all was fine – going out, partying, studying.

But Inside I Was Falling Apart. It Felt Like A Double Life.

I didn’t understand how I could excel academically but could not figure out how to feed myself. It seemed so basic. I was convinced that if I just tried harder I’d be able to finally fix it. I was sure it was just a matter of willpower and discipline. I didn’t understand that by then, like with any addiction, I was reliant on food for so much. I used it to numb boredom and to help me focus, I used it numb loneliness and rejection, I used it to give me energy when I was exhausted, I used it to erase fear and overwhelm when everything got to be too much.

I had inadvertently trained myself to short-circuit to food all the time.

Once I graduated I’d assumed the removal of stress would allow me to decompress and heal. But it didn’t. Without all the distractions of studying I nearly felt worse. I remember the heaviness in my legs and arms. The mood swings. It felt debilitating. That’s when I got into therapy and finally asked for help. And things did improve. From the outside my food stabilized and looked more normal.

On the one hand that seemed like real progress.

On the other hand, just getting through each day without relying on food felt like it took a gigantic amount of energy. This wasn’t the freedom I’d imagined.

I’d constantly be looking for ways to take the edge off – even if it was just eating a whole pack of sugar-free gum in one sitting.

I could “manage” the pain in healthier ways, but somehow I hadn’t addressed the problem at the core.

There’s a distinction between healing something at the source, where it disappears entirely, and managing it, which requires a huge amount of effort. I really wanted to heal. I really wanted to feel at ease in my body. That impulse, to find deeper answers, was what started my journey to become a psychotherapist. It took me a long time to figure out the jigsaw puzzle. So much of this work isn’t academic – it’s not about understanding things intellectually in your mind. The shifts have to happen in your body.

I’ve taken what I learned and have shared it to help many others internationally.

The key to the process is you have to be willing to go deep. Your cravings and compulsions ARE the road to wholeness. They are an invitation to feel. It’s so tempting to think you will be able to figure this out on your own, but one year can become 5 years and then ten years and beyond. It is heartbreaking to know so many people are suffering, especially when there is a way out if you’re willing to do the work. I will show you exactly how to stop the cycle in my first ever online training program:

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