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The story I never wanted to tell

It’s so hard to write this and I took a lot of deep breaths before I started typing.

But, I’m a big believer in the notion that, “secrets keep you sick.”

Before I begin, I’ve realized the more I evolve in my business, the deeper I have to go within myself.

I’m coming face to face with my own barriers and fighting my way through old stories that aren’t true. The stories I told myself as a teenager and twenty something. The stories about how I’m not good enough, that I don’t know enough and that I’m not smart enough to do what I’m doing. Bullshit.

In fact, I’m really comfortable leading my private coaching program and have had a steady list of clients for the past 3 years, but if you know me at all, you know I don’t like to stay comfortable. That along with a year of creating a program I’d want to sign up for myself, the Break Free Mastermind was born. It’s time to get uncomfortable again. Everything is changing fast. But also slow. Prep time, then go time.

I’m ready to share my story with you.

Here goes nothing…

There I was, in the middle of the dance floor in Vietnam when I saw him.

He was average height, muscular, had brown hair and big brown eyes.

He was laughing.

He was the first guy I found attractive in months.

It wasn’t just his outer appearance, but his smile…his silly dance moves.

He did not care if he was cool, which made him more appealing.

I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “you’re the man I’m going to marry.

I was a wild woman.

Confident.

Bold.

Daring.

Didn’t give a you know what.

He liked it.

He turned around, locked eyes with me and said slyly, “oh, really?

I was a few Chang’s deep (asian beer) and something about him reminded me of home.

A few weeks later, we messaged on Facebook and found out we were both in Cambodia, staying a few miles away from each other.

We made plans to meet up later that night.

Around 10:00pm, I got on the back of a motorbike and rode to his hostel.

I whispered his name in the pitch black room until he said, “I’m right here, J.

I crept under the mosquito net above his bed and we made out all night long.

I snuck out after he fell asleep and walked back to the place I was staying with girlfriends.

I walked back smiling.

THIS WAS LIVING.

I was 24 years old, wrapped up in a wild romance in a foreign country with a man I didn’t know well.

IT WAS THRILLING.

Over the next few weeks, we met up when we could, but he was always a country or city ahead of me. We planned to spend the last two weeks of traveling together, cozied up in the Southern part of Thailand.

We stayed in one of the most beautiful resorts, walking hand in hand to the pool, the beach, our bungalow, the restaurant, it was magical.

But I couldn’t ignore the feeling that something was off.

This is the part I’m not supposed to tell you.

While I was spending this wonderfully romantic island trip with this newfound crush, I was sneaking away to call my ex-boyfriend to tell him I loved and missed him.

It was true.

I did.

But it wasn’t right.

I knew it and couldn’t stop it.

My ex was my soft spot. The safe place I turned to when I felt smothered by new guys.

I really liked the new guy, but I wasn’t ready for an actual nice man to like me. I needed some mystery. He was so much fun, hilarious, kind, but too much, too soon.

We ended our romantic rendezvous with plans to visit each other when I came home to Seattle and he went back to Canada.

Except, the moment I touched down in Seattle, I knew the place I’d go after my parents house, it was my ex- boyfriends.

He was my anchor to the old me. The one I wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

My ex and I got back together, had a few goodish years and broke up for the last time over Thanksgiving of 2011.

Not even three months after the official break up, I decided to visit this Canadian man to see if what we experienced was still there, assuming he was single too. He was.

So I booked a ticket and off I went!

Looking back, I was like a lost little puppy hoping someone would direct me to the right place.

I was SO OUT OF PLACE.

It was too soon after the break up.

I was not myself. Shy. Reserved. I was so different than this amazingly wild, do anything for the moment woman he had met in Asia.

I didn’t know how to stand my ground.

I didn’t even know what or who I wanted.

“No, I don’t really want to drink all night with you and your friends.”

Whenever this Canadian man asked me what I wanted to do, I answered like a damsel in distress.

“Whatever you want to do.”

I was so uncomfortable. It was like a robot had taken over my body and plastered a smile on my face.

The 5 day trip with him and what happened is not the point at all, so I won’t get into details, but I will say that I found out a month after returning home that he was expecting a baby with another woman.

So, seems we both weren’t as honest as we could’ve been.

The real story takes place after I got home from visiting him.

It was one of the worst feelings I can remember.

I arrived home to an empty place.

I was already feeling so alone.

Lonely.

Confused.

Sad.

No, depressed.

Severely depressed.

I was still mourning the end of my 8 year on and off relationship with a man I actually thought I’d marry one day.

I felt so raw, vulnerable, cut to the core.

Worthless.

So, I coped the only way I knew how.

With food.

I found cookie dough.

I unpeeled the wrapper and shoved the dough in my mouth.

I ate until I felt sick, until I couldn’t manage another bite.

I ran to the bathroom to get rid of it.

I stuck my fingers down my throat.

It was violent.

I barely had to do anything, before everything came flushing out in the toilet.

I was trying to get rid of everything, not just the food, but the feelings of worthlessness, depression, confusion, what the fuck just happened, why did I go visit a guy I barely knew? What the hell am I doing? Who am I? What happened to me? Why am I throwing up all the time? Why do I immediately go to food when I can’t handle how I’m feeling?

I threw up until I cried. Until I was totally empty.

There was nothing left.

You would’ve NEVER guessed this was happening, because I was a master of the masked life.

SMILE and pretend everything is okay.

Pretend that you didn’t just puke everything up because you feel so worthless.

I was so alone.

Crying so hard.

Head on the toilet.

I’d been in this position before.

The binge and puke.

For 10 years to be exact.

And no one knew.

It was the only way I knew how to cope.

I washed my hands and slowly looked up.

I took a good look at how puffy my face was and noticed how sad I looked.

It was in that moment I knew I could not continue down this path.

I needed help.

It was the last time I ever pushed my feelings down.