Most trainers have their own story to tell on the why’s they decided to join this profession. Mine is similar yet different from the general population. As a kid, I was fat, or husky if you will, and my weight was the deciding factor when I decided to make a change. But this isn’t the feel-good story of, “Well, I walked into the gym and trained hard and the weight just dropped off leaving me feeling accomplished.” Actually, there wasn’t a happy ending until years later.

It’s no secret that when you are overweight at an early age, it can be hard to make friends. At least, it was for me and at the time, I was the subject of endless amounts of bullying. I can recall countless stories of the horrible things my classmates did to me, but we don’t have all day here. Point is, at that age and having gone through years of emotional abuse; I decided to try to change my body image.

I worked out and did cardio but I also took it to the extreme. I developed the one disease that few men are known to actually have; it’s commonly thought to be a female-only disease, but I promise you, anorexia has no gender bias (anorexia or exercise-anorexia, to me, it is the same thing). I stopped eating whole meals or eating much of anything. Breakfast was usually a muffin and an individual box of corn pops. I counted the calories meticulously. Twenty extra was far too much, even though my body was craving much more than that to power me through the 5-mile runs I took daily simply to manipulate my weight. I chucked my mom’s homemade meals and snuck in a safer food instead — one that I could track the numbers on (a cereal box). Back then, I knew little about nutrition and the catastrophic effects that extreme starvation would have on my metabolism. I was doing real damage not only to my body but my mind.

Safe to say, it didn’t take long for me to hit rock bottom. It was over that year of doing this routine daily, I was teetering from 110 pounds to 105 pounds every day. I even managed to drop below 100 and reach 98 pounds at one point. People did notice I was losing weight, but I had become an expert at hiding it. It became a full-time job, making sure no one noticed how extreme it was. I don’t remember my weight when I was overweight because I never checked but I can recall stepping on the scale every day as I got skinner and skinner looking even more emaciated by the second. I remember the day I asked for help. It was late June in New Jersey where temperatures were in the high 90s at that point. I had just finished the school year and I remember walking to the car with my mom wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, wishing I had on more layers because I was shivering. It was during that ride to wherever we were going that I turned to her and said, “I need help, Mom.” By the next few days, I was sitting in a room at Overlook Hospital in Summit, NJ speaking with a therapist in my first counseling session.

One of the few points that stuck out to me at rehab was when they emphasized the mental struggle. Physically, I could regain all my weight and it would come to a point where no one would even think to suggest I ever had an eating disorder but the mental component was a life-long battle. Anorexia is much more psychological than it is physical; there were small battles at first such as eating bigger meals and watching my weight rise quickly, and then the larger ones of once I was discharged, the day to day voice in my head always second guessing everything I ate. I remember someone saying to me, “you never get over that fear of eating or how you look, even if you appear 'healthy.'” That is completely true; this disease is the devil and angel on your shoulders with everything you do when it comes to food or body image.

I decided to become a personal trainer to help others who might be struggling. I continuously learn about food and nutrition as well as exercising properly around it to make sure people won’t steep into the levels that I did with my obsession. I preach to annoying levels about nutrition and an equal balance with exercising but most don’t have a clue as to why I care so much. Most people at my gym just assume I don’t understand what it is like to be unhappy in your own skin probably because I’m a boy or I’ve worked so hard to build my body back up from my lowest point. But I get it; I get it more than you’ll ever know. I remember all the teasing, I remember looking in the mirror and being disgusted with what I saw, and I remember being admitted to the hospital. I just never have talked about it until now to anyone outside my family except a select few. I know most people won’t reach the level I did with a serious eating disorder but we all equivocate happiness with how we look and food plays a major role in that.

While I was recovering, I had some help from family and trainers/coaches who took me under their wing and taught me everything I now preach to others. I learned how human I actually am and what I mean by that is, we all go through tough times of change or unhappiness but it’s ok to ask for help and imperfection is a gift rather than a curse. It’s ok to want to become a better version of yourself but as in everything in life, balance is key and happiness shouldn’t depend on a number on a stupid, insignificant scale. Those people who have helped me know who they are and know I’ll always be grateful to them. I do my best now to keep their messages alive and educate my clients (or anyone I happen to come across) to have more knowledge than was available to me on eating right, exercising properly, and being happy with who you are.