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My Story (Part 2): I Used To Binge Eat

kat-eating-cakeRead part one here.

Somewhere between the grain-bed soggy salad sandwich lunches of primary school, and the chocolate/biscuit/donut/pizza/chip binging of my early twenties, I basically stopped eating.

It happened gradually, and it wasn’t until I woke up one morning at the age of 17 and realised I literally couldn’t get out of bed that I was fully aware of what I was doing.

But before I almost stopped eating? I ate very well indeed. Perhaps too well.

At the age of 14 and 3 months, my family and I moved to Germany. My father had been relocated for work; the company he worked for (as Managing Director of an engineering firm) was opening a German branch and Dad happened to be both up for the position and in command of decent German language skills. We’re not German; I think he had decided to learn partly as a bonus to his work but perhaps also just out of interest.

My reaction to the upheaval? I was NOT interested in moving overseas. Are you kidding me? The history and grandeur of Europe was something I was both unaware of and uninterested in becoming aware of.

I was just starting to enjoy some independence and freedom, from unsupervised outings with my friend’s to the delights and terrors of stamping my mark on the world as another teenage girl desperately trying to fit in and be cool.

Unlike some of my high-school peers I didn’t have any issues with puberty ‘chub’, but just because I was naturally long and lanky didn’t mean I had managed to graduate into the cool crowd.

I do remember that I cared about this less than when I was at primary school, but it was still a factor. I enjoyed making new friends and continuing some of my primary school friendships, I excelled at most of my subjects and felt confident about what the future held for me. I had a lot of fun at high school, both in and out of class, and I think perhaps I even had a little more freedom in terms of mixing my normal healthy school lunches with occasional treats either from Home Ec classes or begged or borrowed from friends or the school canteen.

My pocket money had been elevated to a more impressive status of ‘allowance’, and I was learning to budget for everything from my own school books and uniform (Mum added money for these sort of things to my allowance rather than just pay herself), to gifts for friends and regular tithing. And, of course, I always made sure there was some leftover for chocolate. I managed to make a name for myself as a choco-holic from a young age, to the point where in later years my friends would give me gifts such as 2 kilos of my favourite liquorice bullets, or a massive vase layered with different coloured M&Ms. (THAT may still be the most excitement-inducing gift I ever received!)

For now though, the attempts to starve myself thin and the excessive indulgences of my later teens were still years away.

I had much more important things to focus on, like being able to afford some fashionable clothes and whether or not my school socks should be worn low around the ankles or scrunched all the way to the knees. And, of course, being witty enough to hold my own with the smart-aleck boys at school and try and generate some interest without having to actually (or really wanting to) follow through on anything.

The move overseas was right at the beginning of my Year 9 school year, and it was quite a brutal uprooting. I had my ‘group’, I knew what was and was not hot in Aussie teen-fashion, and I felt like I was just starting to grow out of the shy, awkward, hand-me-down style persona of my childhood years. So basically I was annoyed about having to leave and enter a new and uncertain world; one where I knew none of the rules. And where, worst of all, I would have to enter the German school year by going backwards – starting at half-way through their Year 8.

But after a fancy ‘all-you-can-eat’ send-off by my friends at Sizzler, and a bucketload of thoughtful gifts, I was on my way. We all were. And yes, I guess there was just an ounce of excitement at what might lie ahead but mainly there was that dreaded fear of once again having to figure out how to fit in.

In retrospect, the 2 years we spent in Germany ended up being amongst the most impacting years of my life. In many wonderful ways as well as many confusing ways. They were years in which I tried alcohol for the first time (elderberry wine at age 14 in a German pub with a couple of older American boys and one German female friend!), years when I had my first kiss and developed an obsessive crush that would last into my early twenties, years when I was thrown wildly out of my comfort zone by for the first time ever NOT being top of the class but instead struggling to keep up with a language I at first didn’t want to know about and in the end came to love. Heck even in English class I fell behind as the Germans obsesses about rules of grammar I’d never even heard of! And then looked at me in horror when I couldn’t perform sample sentence structures on command.

In Germany I watched people parade around unashamedly naked at suburban pools, I bought beer from service stations and drank with my teachers while on school camp in Holland. I cut off all my hair and started wearing hugely oversized American football team puffer-jackets, and I travelled miles on the train to find cheap Levi jeans. I came back to Australia with my family at age 15 for 3 weeks and felt wildly sophisticated in my baggy maroon crepe pants and crisp white shirt while all my Aussie friends looked at me like I was an alien. I learned to ice skate, and I watched fairly graphic make-out sessions take place at church youth group events and camps. I wagged school with my friends and I learnt French and a little Spanish. I fell in love with fountain pens, and remain so to this day. (Nobody writes with a ball-point in Germany; not even kids. Quelle die!)

I had my first job and I became even more obsessive about books while doing work experience at the City Library. I came home with armfuls of old fashion magazines and dreamed about being beautiful and a model. In Germany I became very much of the person who I still am today, and in some ways I miss that time more than I ever missed Australia; even thought it’s now been 16 years since we lived there. In Germany I found true independence and started learning to make my way in the world.

And in Germany I got fat. Or at least good’n’chunky.

I ate canned ravioli for lunch, coupled with oven-warmed bread rolls and butter. I bought warmed ‘Bretzeln’ from the school vendor at the 10am breaky or while out on weekends. I went to ‘Fests’ with friends and ate gingerbread, cinnamony-sugary-almonds, and more beer. I don’t think I’d heard of what a ‘carb’ really was but I definitely knew how to enjoy one. My friends and I would eat french fries smeared in mayonnaise at the school pool in summer, and we’d always buy McDonalds and then Movenpick ice-cream while out and about in the city. At home I’d make batch after batch of chocolate-chip cookies and sneak a few up to my room at night. Sometimes I’d come downstairs for 2 more in the middle of the night. And then 2 more. And maybe another 2. I’d finally fall asleep with a sugar-satiated tummy and chocolate crumbs still on my lips.

I thought nothing of it at the time but now I wonder when that need to consume all of a junk food or baked treat began. It’s something I still battle to move past today; that little voice telling me to just keep going if I occasionally relax and eat something like a piece of cake, or some non-dark chocolate.

This is the second excerpt from a journalling piece I’ve started to write on overcoming binge eating. I realise that this may come as a shock to you as I do present a very confident and ‘must-have-always-been-healthy’ exterior to those who don’t know me closely, and even to some who do. I’ve been thinking about publishing this for a long time, as I speak to so many women who struggle with, or have struggled with an eating disorder and/or an often-painful emotional relationship with food.

I think in the end, it’s a story worth telling – without having gone through all of this I would not be the driven and eager student of nutrition that I now am, and I don’t believe I would have the ability that I do have to connect with women so closely about the emotions and mindset of being truly healthy from the inside out.

This was quite painful (and teary) for me to write, but also quite liberating. I will publish more of the story when I’m ready.

Don’t forget –

Life is Now. Press Play.

Kat x

P.S.

Rebel.
Upstart.
Fuck the system; screw the rules.
Won’t do what they told me.
Too much.
Unreasonable.
Ridiculous.
Unprofessional.
Crazy!

Should I go on? I could, but I think you get the picture.

You’re the one who is not only not like the other PEOPLE, you’re also not like the other entrepreneurs.

They, they actually think they’re different; non-conformists?! Don’t make me laugh. You and I both see it as it is:

They just wanna be told how to build a pretty little website and a pretty little social media page or three and a pretty little online product or course and get their pretty little headshots and do a pretty little pre-scripted dance all over the internet so that other equally pretty fucking bland and boring and same same-y peoples pay them money,

And they can all sit in a pretty little womans circle together patting each other linking elbows and stroking each others hair and singing Kumbaya as the sun sets over another day of sinking ever deeper into the unremarkableness that is their lives.

They are the ones who are not only willing to jump through hoops, they also want to build more hoops for other people; they want to perpetuate the hoop jumping life and their whole sales pitch is basically some version of “I will help you to have a better and shinier hoop, come see!”

lolol

BUT REALLY.

Meanwhile, you –

You’ve tried the hoop-jumping life, maybe more than what you care to admit. And, whilst you’ve nothing against sitting around with other ladeez and stroking each others hair, you and your girls; the real ones?

You don’t exactly fit in in the typical woman’s circle.

You don’t feel at home with the pretty-preneurs, not even on the internet let alone in real life.

You don’t actually GIVE a fuck about having all your shit perfect,

Polished,

And just so –

And the idea of having sales and marketing and content processes which you have to systematically pre-plan and then work through and endlessly join dots with?

Makes you want to hurl.

Sure –

You’ve bought in at times to do the idea that maybe you DO gotta do it as they say.

An automated webinar, perhaps?? Facebook ads which carefully and smartly tell the world who you are and how you can help? A sales plan proven and tested by the greats. The gradual sinking slow decline of your soul, your joy, your dreams, and even your pussy as everything within you that once knew she could HAVE IT ALL AND DO LIFE HER WAY SLOWLY DRIES,

WITHERS TO NOTHING,

AND DIES?

Sure –

Why not

And look.

It’s not that any of these things are bad or wrong. Maybe right now you’ve got to a certain point by playing by the rules … kind of. Following what ‘logic’ suggests you do. Breaking free here and there with wild little jaunts into over the top madness, noticing how THAT lights you up and also how people respond to it … but ultimately continuing to go back to trying to find the right fucking system to get you to where you want to go,

Because this thing of trying to just be you interspersed with trying to get it all right and make it work, well –

It’s God damn tiring –

But also, in the end, if we’re going to be black and white about it, it hasn’t got you to where you want to be!!

You KNOW you should be making SO much more money.

NOW.

With consistency, and yeah, while of course of COURSE you’re down for doing the work, you also feel like it SHOULD be a lot easier, more flow

And you know that you know that you know that you’ve still not let out the most unrestrained and fully expressed side of you!

– The you they can’t look away from
– The you they are MAGNETIZED by
– The you who automatically commands a huge freakin’ following, and sales to match it

You know who I’m talking about –

THE MILLIONAIRE REBEL YOU!

Starting January 18th!

>>> https://thekatrinaruthshow.com/rebelmillionaire/

The revolutionary fucking leader who tears SHREDS off of normal every damn day before the rest of the world has barely sipped its coffee!

Who is FULLY unleashed in what she says, how she shows up, how she does business, how she does life.

Who does not give a fuck about following rules! Or sales systems! Or strategies! Who can and will do what works for HER, and if it happens to resemble other ways people build an audience and make a fuckload of money online, cool, and if not, so what! That is not the point! The point is –

She knows what works for her.
She backs herself unapologetically.
She DOES it.

And she gets the damn results. The BIG results. The CONSISTENT results. The FUCK yes results, not just with money but with the VIBERY of it all.

Imagine …

Waking up every day and KNOWING you have crushed the day before it already begun because THAT IS WHO YOU ARE AND HOW YOU ROLL!

* Your shit sells (at any and all price point)
* Your creativity and inner ideas machine flows endlessly (you always know what to put out into the world and that when you speak people PAUSE EVERYTHING AND LISTEN, whether it is with free content and shenaniganery or with your paid stuff)
* You don’t even have to think about low end or high end or how to take people through a value ladder or some such bullshit, the value ladder is YOU CONTINUING TO BE YOU, and the more that you DO you the more people just take themselves through whatever it is you’re offering!
* It is easy, natural, fun, and OBVIOUS how to build your automated income, funnels, the ‘cash machine’ side of your business.
* In fact the whole damn thing feels fun and easy and like you’re just being you (the full on you, the too much you, the rebel you, the fuck all of ’em THIS IS WHAT I STAND FOR AND NOW I’M GONNA TELL YOU you!),
* and at the same time you have the DEEPLY grounded and certain knowledge that the way you’re doing it, hot mess and chaos vibes and all, is WORKING. PS – the reason you feel certain of this is because your bank balance and soulmate audience and their feedback reflects it, not bc your spirit guides told you it’s coming

All of this is ALREADY available to you.

It is who you are and what you were born for.

You did not come here for normal!

You are one of the truly crazy ones, who has something inside of her that will leave the world BREATHLESS –
and allow her to make millions and impact millions –

BUT NOT IF SHE CONTINUES TO DO BUSINESS AND LIFE BY TRYING TO SOMEHOW BE A NON-CONFORMIST WHO CONTINUALLY CAVES AND CONFORMS.

For this to work,

REALLY work, like next next NEXT level $ and life flow work,
you’re going to need to FULLY turn your back on the idea that your breakthrough is waiting on the other side of you adjusting, filtering, compromising, playing the game the way the other entrepreneurs are playing it, or worrying about what the fuck your social media looks like!

What you’re going to need to do is simple:

FLICK THE DAMN REBEL MILLIONAIRE SWITCH BABY.

>>> https://thekatrinaruthshow.com/rebelmillionaire/

All in on madness.
All in on crazy.
All in on chaos.
All in on the TRUE epic awesome ridiculousness and too much-ness of YOU.

REBEL MILLIONAIRE

Starting January 18th!

For those who were born to run the damn thing,

To turn the world on its head and dance on top of it,

And who are ready to do just that.

>>> https://thekatrinaruthshow.com/rebelmillionaire/