"In a society that profits from self-doubt, self-love is a rebellious act." –Caroline Caldwell

Hey, gorgeous! I’m Carley—a self-love and mindset coach hellbent on helping women ditch diet culture nonsense and feel at peace in their own skin.

If you’re here, you’re probably somewhere between the first whispers of realizing your relationship with food and your body is a bit fucked up, to full-on being sick of your own shit, ready for support to finally break the restrict-binge-repeat cycle.

Regardless of where you fall, welcome–I’m so happy you’ve found your way here and would give you a big ass hug if I could.

Whether you’re curious about my story or want to know that I can actually relate to you, keep reading to dive into my real, messy, and ultimately liberating journey from calorie-counting chaos to food freedom.

If I had to pick a starting point, it’d be 7th grade home-ec class. One innocent lesson about nutrition that taught me Oreos were “bad”–unless I ate them with a nice cold glass of milk–was the catalyst for decades of villainizing foods, counting calories, and torturing myself in the pursuit of the “perfect” body.

Thanks to my multiple leadership roles and straight A’s in AP classes, my peers dubbed me “Miss Perfect” in high school–a nickname I despised, yet also felt a need to live up to. If I had perfect grades, I should have a perfect body too, right? I’d go through cycles of restricting food and over-exercising followed by binging on any sweet treat I could get my hands on and feeling like an absolute failure.

College took things next-level. Free to control my food and workouts without any adult around to tell me what to do, I created my own personal hell of binge/restrict cycles in the name of “discipline.” One of my most vivid college memories? Sitting on my bed, sobbing over how much I hated myself while I ate half-frozen Sara Lee cake.

After college, I tried running my way down in weight, convinced I’d finally “fixed” things. I’d get compliments on my “fit” body, but inside, I was caught in a toxic cycle of restricting, binging, and punishing myself with endless workouts. I was willing to admit I needed support at this point, and I eventually tried therapy.

While it started my healing process and I will be forever grateful, my deep-rooted beliefs were still there. I even ended up on stage for bikini competitions—starving, exhausted, and miserable. After months of eating almost exclusively chicken and broccoli, a post-show burger turned into a months-long binge cycle. If I learned anything, it’s that I was far from healed.

The next milestone on this journey for me was pregnancy. For the first time in my entire life, I felt awe and appreciation and gratitude for my body and what it could do. Those feelings were short-lived though. The pressure I felt to “get my body back” hurled me straight back into control mode, and I continued to live on the binge-restrict hamster wheel for years.

Until one night, when I finally decided enough was enough. Mid-binge, I picked up my phone and searched “binge-eating coach” on Instagram. I invested in support, got real honest with myself about my own fucked up relationships with food and my body, and started to actually do the work to heal. It was a wildly confronting ride and one of the hardest things I’ve done. But my only regret?

That I hadn’t done it sooner.

Now? I’m living a life I never thought possible.

I don’t weigh myself incessantly, I don’t track a single calorie, and I don’t force myself to close the rings on my watch.

I don’t feel out of control around food, I don’t shame myself for eating sweets, and I don’t look in the mirror and hate what I see.

Instead, I’ve found freedom, joy, and power—a genuine, deep-rooted sense of peace in my body and my life that I truly believed was something I could never have.

This journey has been wild, raw, and humbling, but it’s also given me a new kind of strength—one that doesn’t come from restriction, punishment, or endless "fixing."

My story wouldn’t end like this if it weren’t for the support I let myself have when I was ready to trade in control and restriction for freedom and peace.

So if you’re ready to delete MyFitnessPal for good, stop earning food through exercise, and kick your inner mean girl to the curb…

Let’s talk.