The strongest sense of belonging I’ve ever felt was working in catering kitchens, though it wasn’t always serving me. It was easy to show up half present, depleted from the previous evening’s activities, recharge by glugging down a cold brew, and bang out a shift. Afterward, shift drink and maybe karaoke or other shenanigans with coworkers and other industry folk. Wash, rinse, repeat. The things we can get away with in our 20’s, amirite? This lifestyle was a predictable level of stress, predictable level of relief, and an endless array of tasty things. Then, life swept the kitchen mats right out from under my feet when a chronic illness suddenly consumed me.

At 26 years old, I learned that navigating our medical system with minimal resources feels like running blindfolded and barefoot through a dark room filled with mousetraps and LEGO pieces. At my sickest, the most help and humanity I received was from seeing Registered Dietitians (more on that another time). I’d already earned a Bachelor of Science in Nutrition and Culinary Arts, and this experience solidified my next steps toward becoming a RD myself.

In an unpredictable body, I maneuvered my way through a rigorous graduate program to earn a Master of Science in Nutrition, get accepted into a Dietetic Internship, and take the board exam to be credentialed as a Registered Dietitian. It took everything in me and a few times, I came close to falling apart completely. I couldn’t work, I could barely eat for days at a time. At my worst I ended up in the ER, but still made it to class the next day. I had no other options. Every ounce of my energy went toward learning Anatomy and Physiology, Biochemistry, Nutrient Metabolism, and digesting other classes that required learning long ribbons of Latin phrases, counseling concepts, and drew from a deep love of food, even though I could barely touch it.

Within the first year of being sick I saw 14 MDs, DOs, NPs, PAs, NDs, and acupuncturists. Appointments became a part-time job. I eliminated every food I could, I even drank celery juice in my desperation. I grieved my old life, I was bitter to have been torn away from my career in food, my hobbies, my friends. But I gained empathy, I learned how to listen, how to sit and process discomfort; skills that drive my nutrition practice.

Working as a Registered Dietitian, I refuse to pretend I’m some monk on a misty mountaintop sitting calmly with folded legs, holding esoteric answers like a basket of flower petals, ready to shower them on my patients for a hefty fee at each visit. My work in nutrition isn’t about me, it’s about the person in front of me, though I lean on my experiences to remember the depth of challenge that comes with health changes.

Simply put, I’m a human being in a body, too, trying just the same to understand and cope with the changes of life, while holding space, asking questions, sharing tools, and offering suggestions to give others the opportunity to do the just that. I’ve also been branching out, teaching classes and presentations on the body and managing diseases without wasting thousands of dollars or losing your damn mind in the meantime. To me, that’s nutrition.

Thanks for reading. Hope we’ll be in touch.