Since the age of 10, I was a competitive athlete, first as a swimmer, then progressing to triathlons and marathons. I lived for the discipline—waking up at 5 AM to train, chasing faster times, feeling the rush of competition, and the immense satisfaction of crossing the finish line. That same relentless drive bled into every area of my life. I had to hit my target race times. I had to exceed my sales quotas. Anything less was failure. I kept pushing—competing in Ironman triathlons, making President’s Club twice, and proving I could do it all.

But beneath the surface, I was falling apart. My need for control spiraled into disordered eating, food guilt, body dysmorphia, and an overwhelming fear of failure. Food became something I had to earn, my body something I had to fix. If I ate something “bad” or exceeded my calorie limit, I’d punish myself by restricting the next day. No matter how much I achieved, I never felt enough. I was physically drained, mentally overwhelmed, and emotionally raw.