Originally from Rio de Janeiro, now based in Portland. I’m a homebody at heart — happiest with my husband, my fur babies, and a really good meal. I love to eat, always have. Which makes it all the more ironic that food was the thing that took over my life for eighteen years.

I’m a certified health and nutrition coach and intuitive eating counselor, and I’m currently completing my Master’s in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. But before any of that — I lived this.

I went on my first diet at 15. That was the beginning of eighteen years of bingeing.

I became obsessed. I had rules for everything — what I could eat, when I could eat it, how much, what I had to do to earn it. I’d eat well in front of people and fall apart alone. I’d hide food. I’d wait for everyone to go to sleep so I could eat freely. I’d eat so much that I’d feel sick, cry, and tell myself tomorrow would be different.

My whole week was built around the weekend — because that’s when I would finally let myself eat what I wanted. During the week I measured and portioned everything. One bite over and I’d consider the day ruined. And then I’d binge. The week was restriction. The weekend was chaos. That was my life.

I spent years trying to fix it with more control. More rules. Better plans. I knew nutrition front and back — I could tell you the calorie count of almost anything. I tried every approach. And I kept ending up in the same place: exhausted, ashamed, and bingeing again.

What I couldn’t see was that the control was the problem. The rules were driving the binges. I was trying to fix something with the exact thing that was causing it.

The turning point wasn’t a new program or a better therapist. It was desperation. I was so exhausted, so done, that I made three decisions out of sheer surrender:

I stopped tracking. No more counting, measuring, or logging anything.

I started eating what I actually wanted, when I wanted it. Not the “safe” version. The real thing.

I let myself have dessert every day if I wanted to. Not as a reward. Just because I wanted it.

That was it. Those three decisions changed everything.

The cravings quieted. The obsessive thinking started to lift. I wasn’t negotiating with myself all day anymore. I wasn’t doing math. The weekend binges lost their grip because there was no longer a week of restriction building up behind them. When everything is available, nothing has that desperate charge to it.

It took time. And what solidified everything was working on the emotional piece — understanding what I’d been eating through, what food had been doing for me, and learning to meet those needs differently. But the turning point was the moment I stopped trying to control my way out of something that control had created.

The freedom I got after I finally stopped fighting food is unlike anything I can compare it to. I spent years — years — as a slave to it. Thinking about food when I woke up. When I left work. When I went to sleep. Planning my weeks around the weekends because that’s when I’d finally let myself eat. Feeling anxious about food I couldn’t have, thinking about it constantly, negotiating with myself all day.

When that stopped — when food just became food — I got my life back. I got my head back. I started showing up differently in every other area of my life because I wasn’t spending so much of myself managing this.

I can’t imagine doing anything else. I can’t imagine living my life without this work in it. When a client tells me she ate cake at her sister’s birthday and just moved on — no spiral, no compensation, just moved on — I feel it. I know exactly what that moment costs and what it means to get there.

This is priceless. This is what I’m here for.

When I’m not snuggling with my hubby and babies, I’m probably outside — Portland and the Pacific Northwest have that effect on you. Trees, rivers, lakes, blue sky (when it’s not rain season, of course). It’s the kind of place where nature and city life exist side by side, and I love that about it.

I travel whenever I can — beach towns, Hawaii, Cancun, anywhere with warm water and good weather. I love music, I like to dance, and my taste goes from Bossa Nova to Brazilian pop to electronic and back again.

Some of my closest friendships go back to when I was a teenager. One friend I’ve had since I was a baby. Those relationships — the ones where you feel safe enough to be completely honest — are everything to me. Deep conversation, real connection, people who actually show up. That’s what I’m about.