About

My health journey began long before I had the language to explain what was happening to me. At 17, while my friends were thinking about weekend plans and college applications, I was trying to understand why my body felt out of sync—why my cycles were unpredictable, why my hormones felt chaotic, why I always had this underlying sense that something wasn’t quite right. When the PCOS diagnosis finally came, it was both a relief and a new kind of confusion.

The first solution every doctor offered was birth control—drugs, drugs, and more drugs. With more than 250 types of birth control on the market, I remember wondering how any one doctor was supposed to know which pill was right for me. By the time I was on my fourth prescription and still seeing no improvement, I started doing my own research. What I found surprised me: countless women talking about how getting off the pill and focusing on food, exercise, and metabolic health is what helped them regulate their cycles. It was the first time I realized there might be more to healing than another prescription.

But I was young, overwhelmed, and very focused on appearance. Instead of learning about strength, energy, or nourishment, I started eating less, thinking that was the answer. I didn’t understand the science yet—how much my body needed fuel, how nutrition supported hormones, or how movement could build stability instead of stress.

In my early twenties, the picture grew more complicated. Digestive issues that started as occasional discomfort turned into daily struggles, eventually becoming IBS‑C. I was trying to build a life, go to school, work, have fun—and at the same time, my body kept shifting beneath me. I never felt like I could catch up.

Then at 23, more symptoms emerged: sudden blood sugar drops, unpredictable fatigue, and an array of issues that didn’t make sense together. Over the next few years, the diagnoses arrived slowly—Hypoglycemic Hyperinsulinemia, Endometriosis, and later, Long Covid. It was layers upon layers, each one bringing its own challenges.

Across all of it, one theme stayed the same. Whether I was sitting in a specialist’s office discussing hormones, digestion, blood sugar, or pain, the conversation always circled back to two things: food and movement. Everyone agreed they were important, but no one taught me how to actually make them work together in a way that was sustainable. Before we realized my blood sugar crashes were caused by excessive insulin release, my diet was basically candy—literally just trying to keep myself from fainting. It completely contradicted everything I was told to do for my hormones. Every recommendation seemed to fix one problem while worsening another.

Learning to navigate that chaos forced me to take ownership of my health in a deeper way. I stopped chasing quick fixes and began building a foundation—a way of eating, moving, and supporting my body that made sense for my own biology. It took time, patience, and a lot of trial and error, but it showed me how powerful the basics can be when they’re aligned with your physiology instead of conflicting advice.

This journey is why I do what I do now. No one should have to figure all of this out alone or feel lost in a body that refuses to follow the rules. I learned how to find balance in a system that rarely made it easy—and now I help others do the same.