Food has been both my comfort and my battle for as long as I can remember. Over the years, I’ve tried every diet, every “fix,” and every routine to get control over my body. Sometimes I felt strong and in balance, and other times I slipped into cycles of binge eating and emotional eating.

I’ve come to realize that this isn’t just about weight or appearance. It’s about something much deeper — my relationship with food. For decades, food has been my way of coping with emotions, celebrating life, and even avoiding pain. But now, I’ve reached a point where I don’t want to fight it anymore.

In this article, I want to share my journey — how it began, where it led me, and the new approach I’m taking to finally heal my relationship with food.

Early Years: When Food Became Complicated

As a child, I adored food. Meals meant love, celebration, and togetherness. Every family gathering had food at the center, and I loved that sense of connection.

But as a teenager, when I got serious about dancing and modeling, food started to change meaning. Suddenly, it wasn’t about joy anymore — it was about control. The pressure to look a certain way, to fit into costumes, and to stay “stage ready” slowly led me down the path of my first eating disorder.

I basically stopped eating. And when I did eat, I made sure it didn’t stay in my body for long. It was a painful cycle, and even though I was hurting, not many people noticed. My naturally curvy body didn’t make me look dangerously thin, and because I was still performing well, people assumed everything was fine.

Inside, though, I was in turmoil. Food had shifted from something that brought me love and joy to something I feared. It was the beginning of a very long and complicated journey with eating.

From Dance to Fitness: A New Addiction

When a hip injury ended my dancing career, I felt like I had lost my identity. The thing I loved most was suddenly gone, and depression followed. But in that loss came something unexpected — I was free to eat again. No more weigh-ins, no more costumes, no more pressure.

At first, food became comfort. I cooked, I indulged, I experimented. And then I found fitness. Weightlifting gave me a whole new way to connect with my body. For the first time in years, I wasn’t restricting — I was eating. In fact, I learned that I could eat a lot as long as I burned it off at the gym.

Three hours of training a day became the norm. It was intense, but it worked. I felt strong, confident, and accepted — especially in a world that didn’t judge me for my curves, but instead celebrated my strength.

But of course, it wasn’t balance. It was just another kind of addiction. Food was no longer the enemy, but my ability to “earn it” through exercise was.

Losing Balance Again: Travel, Weight Gain & Yo-Yo Diets

For a while, I managed to keep a somewhat balanced lifestyle. I counted calories, allowed myself little treats, and felt like I was finally at peace with food. But life has its twists.

In 2017, Joen and I sold everything and began traveling the world. It was an incredible adventure — full of food, parties, and living like royals. Exercise slipped away, but indulgence did not. When we eventually settled in Portugal, and later Madeira, the “good life” continued.

At first, it didn’t bother me. I could still wear the clothes I loved, go on hikes, and feel comfortable at the beach. But slowly, things started to shift. Food became my comfort again, without the balance of regular exercise. Over time, the weight crept on, and I found myself yo-yoing between 10 and 20 kilos.

Some years, I felt strong and in control. Other years, I slipped into binge eating and emotional eating. And the cycle kept repeating. By the time we moved to Madeira, the weight had stuck. I had gained around 20 kilos, and for the past five years, I’ve been fighting to regain balance.

It’s exhausting to constantly battle with your body — one diet after another, one new “fix” after another. And yet, none of it has truly worked long-term, because I wasn’t healing the root issue: my relationship with food.

A Turning Point: Therapy & Healing My Relationship with Food

After years of dieting, counting calories, and swinging between extremes, I’ve realized something important: the problem isn’t food itself. It’s the way I relate to it. My comfort eating, my binges, my attempts at restriction — they all stem from something deeper than hunger.

That’s why I’ve started food trauma therapy. Instead of focusing on rules, numbers, or “quick fixes,” this approach is about understanding my patterns. Why do I eat when I’m not hungry? What emotions am I trying to soothe? And how can I learn to nourish my body in a way that feels natural and sustainable?

For the first time, I’m not aiming to be skinny or fit. I simply want to feel strong, light, and in control again — not through punishment or obsession, but through peace.

I’ve already had my first two sessions, and I feel hopeful. There’s no shame, no restriction, and no pressure to chase perfection. Instead, there’s curiosity and kindness toward myself. I’ve also teamed up with a sweet soul named Priscilla, who has been through her own healing journey. Together, we’re building a foundation of gentle exercise, muscle rebuilding, and mindful eating.

This time, it feels different. This time, it feels like healing.

Closing Reflections: Choosing Peace with Food

This journey isn’t about chasing a number on the scale anymore. It’s about something much more meaningful — finally making peace with food.

I want to feel strong again. I want to have the energy to live fully, to run with Lara, to hike mountains, and to enjoy a meal without guilt or fear. Most of all, I want to stop thinking about food as a battle. Because food should be nourishment, joy, and connection — not war.

Of course, I know this won’t be a straight path. There will be ups and downs, just like there always have been. But this time, I’m committed to breaking free of extremes. To listening to my body. To choosing presence over punishment.

If you’re struggling with your own relationship with food, I want you to know that you’re not alone. Healing is possible, even if it feels far away. Sometimes, it begins with just admitting that you’re ready for peace.

Thank you for being here with me and walking through such a personal part of my story. It means so much to share this with you.

Hugs x

Jamila