A brutally honest journey through orthorexia, food obsession, and the trap of “wellness.”
It Started with Kale. And a Lie.
The first time I heard the phrase “you are what you eat,” it sounded inspiring.
I had just watched a health documentary with glowing reviews and glowing people. You know the kind — slow pans of farmers markets, pastel smoothie bowls, dramatic background music whenever they showed a doughnut.
That night, I opened my pantry, looked at my instant noodles and peanut butter crackers, and whispered, “I can do better.”
I threw it all away.
The next morning, I made a green juice that tasted like freshly mowed lawn. And so began what I thought was going to be my healing era.
Turns out, I was about to make myself very, very sick — with no one warning me I was heading straight into the arms of orthorexia.
What is Orthorexia, and Why Don’t We Talk About It?
Orthorexia nervosa is a lesser-known eating disorder — not focused on quantity, but on quality. It’s the unhealthy obsession with healthy eating.
And the reason it flies under the radar?
Because it’s praised.
Rewarded.
Marketed.
It's the influencer with the “What I Eat In A Day” video full of air-fried vegetables, ancient grains, and zero joy.
It’s the co-worker who skips cake at every birthday and gets applauded for her “discipline.”
It’s you — crying in your kitchen because your gluten-free muffin accidentally had sugar in it.
And because it looks so “healthy,” no one tells you to stop. No one pulls you aside and says, “Hey… are you okay?”
When Wellness Becomes Worship
At first, I was glowing.
That’s what everyone said:
“You look amazing!”
“What’s your secret?”
“Wow, you have so much willpower.”
And I fed off it.
I wasn’t just eating clean. I was eating virtuously.
I stopped drinking coffee. I avoided processed food. I said goodbye to bread, pasta, dairy, anything with a name I couldn’t pronounce — unless it was an adaptogen, of course.
I had a “wellness” routine for everything:
Lemon water before coffee (oh wait, no coffee)Intermittent fasting
Tongue scraping
Dry brushing
Celery juice
A very complicated smoothie involving maca powder, spirulina, MCT oil, and something called moon dust
I was spending more on supplements than rent.
But inside?
I was anxious, cold all the time, obsessed with food, and secretly terrified of eating at other people’s houses.
I wasn't getting healthier. I was getting sicker — in a way that was harder to see on the surface.
I Missed Birthday Cake and Called It Discipline
One day, my mom made her famous chocolate cake for my birthday.
I didn’t eat it.
I stood there smiling, watching everyone else enjoy it, while sipping my herbal tea and pretending I was full from “that incredible quinoa salad.”
That night, I cried.
Because I wanted the cake. Not just the taste — the experience. The love baked into it. The memories tied to it. The moment.
But my fear of “unclean food” was louder than my desire to be present.
That was the first time I realized: I wasn’t eating to live. I was eating to control.
Food Became My Identity
There’s a special kind of isolation that comes with turning your diet into your entire personality.
I was the “healthy one.” The label stuck — and I stuck to it like my life depended on it.
People would ask for meal prep advice. Send me Instagram reels of green detox soups. Applaud me for skipping dessert, even when I wasn’t hungry — just scared.
But the truth is, when your self-worth is tied to what’s on your plate, you’ll never feel full.
I couldn’t just eat.
I had to scan every ingredient, research every brand, worry about seed oils, ask if the chicken was pasture-raised, and check if the almonds were activated.
I was exhausted. Not just physically, but emotionally.
I wasn’t free.
When Clean Eating Turns Toxic
It sounds dramatic, but here’s what “clean eating” actually did to me:
I lost my period.My digestion was wrecked.
My hair started thinning.
I became socially anxious.
I feared spontaneity.
I had insomnia.
I started resenting food — even though I was obsessed with it.
I wasn’t healing. I was hiding.
From myself. From my feelings. From the chaotic, beautiful, messy imperfection of real life.
I used wellness as a shield — and it became a cage.
The Silent Panic of Eating “Wrong”
The panic attacks came silently.
I would go to a dinner party and smile through the appetizers while internally spiraling:
“What oil is this cooked in?”
“Was the beef grass-fed?”
“Is this soy-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, regret-free?”
Sometimes, I would just lie and say I had already eaten. Or that I had food allergies. Or that I was doing a “cleanse.”
Because saying, “I’m afraid of this food” felt too embarrassing — even though it was the truth.
The Breakup With Wellness Culture
Eventually, something broke.
I was tired. So, so tired.
One night, I made mac and cheese from a box. With actual milk. And gasp white pasta.
I sat on the floor, cross-legged in my sweats, and took a bite.
And it tasted like freedom.
The next day, I ate a croissant without researching its glycemic index.
Then I had pizza with friends and didn’t compensate with a kale smoothie afterward.
And with every bite, I felt myself returning — not just physically, but spiritually.
It was the first time in years I felt human.
Real Healing Isn’t Pretty (Or Marketable)
The wellness industry never warned me about this part.
It sells you the before and after. The "glow up." The tidy transformation.
But real healing? It's messy. It's emotional. It’s eating something "forbidden" and crying through the shame, and then doing it again until the shame gets quieter.
It’s unlearning.
It’s letting go of the scale, the macro counting, the need to be perfect.
It’s going back to basics: Am I hungry? What do I feel like eating? Can I enjoy this with others?
No detox tea will teach you that.
What I Know Now
I know that food is not moral.
Carrots are not better than cookies.
Salads are not more noble than sandwiches.
Clean isn’t a synonym for holy.
I know that real health isn’t about rigidity — it’s about resilience.
It’s being able to eat cake at your kid’s birthday and then make a salad the next day — without guilt.
It’s cooking dinner with love, not fear.
It’s saying “yes” to the dinner invite even when the restaurant doesn’t have oat milk.
It’s having energy to live your life — not just manage your macros.
To the Woman Still Stuck in Clean-Eating Hell
I see you.
You’re reading labels like a full-time job. You’re tired of tracking, fearing, obsessing.
You wonder if it’ll always feel this way.
It won’t.
You can come back.
To flavor.
To fun.
To food.
To yourself.
You don’t have to earn your worth through chia seeds and discipline.
You don’t have to be a clean eater to be a good person.
Let's Redefine What Wellness Really Means
True wellness is:
Not fearing foodFeeling connected to your body
Enjoying meals with others
Making peace with imperfection
Trusting your intuition more than an influencer
Living fully — not performing health
If clean eating has made you feel broken, know this:
You are not broken.
The system is.
You didn’t fail the lifestyle.
The lifestyle failed you.
Final Thoughts: I Thought I Was Healing — But I Was Hiding
Clean eating made me sick.
Not in a way you can see on a blood test. But in a way that steals your joy, your spontaneity, your ability to simply eat a damn sandwich without spiraling.
And the worst part?
No one talks about it.
Because “wellness” is still glorified. Restriction is still rewarded. And the more you suffer quietly, the more the industry thrives.
But I’m talking about it now.
Because I know what it’s like to be stuck. To cry over hummus. To miss life because you were too busy managing your food fear spreadsheet.
And I want you to know:
You’re allowed to eat.
You’re allowed to rest.
You’re allowed to be messy, joyful, imperfect — and still worthy.
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