Hi, thank you for stopping by. I’m Agness, and I’m here to share my journey of hope and healing after 18 long years of struggling with bulimia, binge eating, chronic overeating, and compulsive food behaviors. It’s not an easy story to tell, but I believe it’s an important one—because no matter how difficult the path may seem, recovery is always possible.

For much of my life, I felt trapped in a relentless cycle of restriction, binging, and purging that left me feeling powerless and ashamed. I wore a mask of perfection, convinced that if I appeared strong on the outside, I could somehow keep everything under control. But my reality was far from perfect. From the age of 12, I battled an eating disorder that consumed my thoughts, shaped my actions, and kept me isolated in a world of fear, shame, and secrecy.

It all started during a time when my family life was falling apart. My parents’ separation and divorce created chaos and uncertainty, shattering the stability I once knew. As a young, ambitious, and driven girl, I didn’t know how to process the emotions I was experiencing, so I turned to food for comfort. I didn’t want to burden my already worried mother or my emotionally unavailable father. What began as a way to soothe my sadness and confusion soon escalated into something much darker. By the time I was a teenager, I was deeply entangled in a cycle of binging, restricting, and purging that I couldn’t escape.

My dad’s drinking added another layer of instability to my life. As an alcoholic, his unpredictable behavior created a stressful environment at home, and I felt immense pressure to excel at school and avoid being a burden. I buried my pain and threw myself into being the perfect daughter, focusing all my energy on getting the best grades and excelling at piano lessons, sports—you name it. I set the bar so high for myself and others that I had to hustle daily to live up to those expectations and visions of myself. But behind that façade, food became both my solace and my torment. I used it to fill the emptiness I felt inside, yet it only made me feel more disconnected from myself.

For years, I convinced myself that I was okay and had everything under control. I wasn’t ready to admit how powerless I felt over food, body dysmorphia, and purging, which had become real health threats. This denial kept me locked in a seemingly unbreakable cycle for so long. Compulsive overeating became chronic, and no matter how much I tried to gain control, I ended up feeling more lost, more ashamed, and more frustrated with myself. I was terrified of being judged and perceived as weak, so I built walls around myself and kept my struggles hidden. I wouldn’t let anyone in, afraid that sharing my truth would only add to my pain and make me feel exposed and unworthy of love.

By my mid-twenties, I realized that I couldn’t go on like this. My health had seriously declined, and my body was starting to shut down. Extreme stomach pain, severe acne treated with oral antibiotics, fragile teeth, brain fog, and deep depression were just a few consequences of my destructive behavior. I then started seeing various psychologists, hoping therapy would be the solution I needed. I made some progress and managed to stop purging for a while, but the binging and chronic overeating continued to cast a shadow over my life. I was no longer purging, but I was overeating at every meal, punishing myself for not making enough progress and not knowing any better. I felt half-free and half-trapped, unsure if I would ever truly recover.

Then, something beautiful happened. When I turned 29, I took a leap of faith and opened up to someone I trusted—someone who listened with genuine compassion and understanding. This person was already in recovery, and I felt like I could relate to so many things they shared with me. For the first time, I felt safe sharing my story without fear of being judged. I told my story out loud from the very beginning, highlighting how tired and miserable I was of living this way, yet I honestly didn’t know how to change. That conversation marked a turning point in my journey. Speaking about my struggles took away some of the power the disorder had over me. I started to believe that maybe—just maybe—recovery was possible.

With this person’s support, I was inspired to reach out to others and joined a recovery community for the first time. Being surrounded by people who understood what I was going through made me feel less alone and less like there was something wrong with me. As it turned out, more people were going through this than I realized. I was not broken. What I was dealing with was a disorder that needed to be addressed with proper recovery tools.

My next step was to connect with professionals, a mentor, and a nutritionist who helped me understand that food wasn’t the problem—it was the solution I’d used to cope with unresolved emotions, trauma, and pain. Healing required more than just addressing the behaviors; it meant looking at the underlying causes and learning to navigate my emotions in a healthier way.

One of the most transformative realizations was that my recovery had to be holistic. It wasn’t just about changing my relationship with food; it was about healing my mind, body, and heart. I started nourishing myself with balanced meals instead of punishing my body through restriction and binging. I embraced self-care and began listening to my body’s needs without judgment. Slowly, I started to rebuild trust with myself and let go of the guilt and shame I’d been carrying for so long.

I also addressed my emotional and spiritual health. I started practicing meditation, journaling, and breathwork to process my feelings, address different emotions, and manage stress. 

I confronted the harmful beliefs and stories I had internalized from a young age and began rewriting them with more self-compassion. I discovered that true healing wasn’t about controlling food or managing symptoms—it was about rebuilding my relationship with myself.

Another pivotal part of my recovery was learning to set boundaries—not just with food, but in every area of my life. Stress had always been a major trigger for my binges, so learning how to manage it and create balance was key. I realized that I had spent so much of my life striving for perfection that I had forgotten to simply be present. Releasing the need to be perfect allowed me to make space for self-compassion and acceptance.

Once I was ready, I opened up to my friends and family about my recovery, communicating what I needed as I walked this path so they could respectfully be my companions without feeling the need to fix me or treat me differently. This also played a crucial role in my healing. I had been so afraid of being judged, but sharing my story brought an outpouring of love and support. Talking about my eating disorder helped me break the cycle of shame and isolation, and it allowed me to build deeper, more authentic connections. It was one of the most healing experiences of my life.

Today, I’m proud to say that I’ve been bulimia- and binge-free for 5 years. My life is no longer ruled by the cycles of binge and purge. Instead, I live with a deep sense of peace, balance, and joy. I nourish my body, mind, and heart with daily care and celebrate each year free from disordered eating with immense gratitude and appreciation for who I am and what my story is. I’ve built beautiful relationships within the recovery community—connections that have brought me joy and fulfillment beyond what I ever imagined. I am immensely grateful for all the people I’ve met on my journey and all the recovery and healing tools that have been shared with me.

To anyone reading this who feels hopeless or trapped, I want you to know that recovery is possible. Your journey may look different from mine, and that’s okay. What works for one person may not work for another, and healing may not be a straight path—but don’t give up. You are worth fighting for, and healing is always within reach. You don’t have to navigate this alone. Reaching out for help isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s the first step toward reclaiming your life.

Please know that there is light on the other side of the tunnel, and I hope my story serves as a reminder that you too can find it. It took me 18 years to find what worked for me in recovery. No matter how long you’ve been struggling, it’s never too late to heal and rediscover the joy of truly living. Hold on to hope, trust in the process, and know that there is a brighter future waiting for you!

I believe in you.

With love,
Agness