Tools, practices, and the professionals who helped me break free from my eating disorder—and what ultimately led me to speak publicly about it.
So instead, I buried it. I carried the secret for years like an invisible weight shackled to my ankle. I hid it from my family, my friends, my coaches, my college teammates, and later, my peers on the professional squash tour.
There was one moment in the fall of 2018 when I finally reached a breaking point. My binge–purge cycle after tournaments had become so severe that I couldn’t imagine continuing to live this way. Desperate for help, I saw a therapist who specialized in eating disorders. But because my insurance didn’t cover it and I couldn’t afford the out-of-pocket cost, that support lasted only a single introductory session.
What followed instead was a long, nonlinear recovery process that unfolded from 2015 until I went public with my story in 2021. It was built on mindfulness-based interventions, extensive trial and error, lived experience, and the support of two key professionals: a holistic sports psychologist, Amy Gross, and a sports dietitian, Nyree Dardarian. While our work together wasn’t framed as formal eating disorder treatment since they were part of my squash coaching team, we were addressing many of the psychological and nutritional patterns that were fueling my binge–purge cycle.
The Role of Mindfulness and Sports Psychology
I began working with Amy in 2015 after graduating college, when I officially became a full-time professional squash player. Rather than diving straight into match performance, Amy took a holistic approach to my mental well-being. She understood that peak performance on court required addressing what was happening off court and especially what was happening internally between my two ears.
Together, we unpacked the traits that dominated my internal world: perfectionism, an all-or-nothing mindset, a harsh inner critic, limited emotional regulation, and underdeveloped coping skills. It didn’t take long for Amy to recognize my coping patterns—especially after losses, burnout, emotional dysregulation, or difficult days.
Because Amy created a safe, nonjudgmental space, I eventually felt able to share what I had never said out loud before: that I was struggling with binging and purging (I still was in denial about admitting I had an eating disorder due to the fact that I was still a high functioning, high performing athlete). From there, we slowly began addressing it through mindfulness-based interventions. These included learning to bring awareness to the present moment, practicing nonjudgmental observation, meditation, identifying healthier coping mechanisms when triggered, and—most importantly—creating space between my thoughts and my actions.
For years, my binge–purge cycle operated on autopilot. Mindfulness helped interrupt that loop. I began to notice urges as they arose rather than feeling completely overtaken by them. That awareness allowed me to pause—to take a walk, practice breathwork, journal, meditate, or reflect on how a binge would leave me feeling afterward. I started making choices with my future self in mind.
This was not an overnight transformation. I relapsed many times. But with each setback, the shame and self-loathing softened. Judgment gave way to compassion. Guilt and disgust were gradually replaced with acceptance, kindness, and reassurance that I was still moving forward.
Breaking free from my perfectionist, all-or-nothing mindset was pivotal. I learned that a bad day, a lost match, or an imperfect training session did not define my worth. It didn’t mean I was a failure or that the entire day was ruined. Learning to tolerate imperfection—to be human—was a cornerstone of my recovery.
Rebuilding My Relationship With Food
Another instrumental figure in my recovery was my sports dietitian, Nyree Dardarian. We began working together in the fall of 2017 as I was returning from my first Achilles rupture. At the time, my relationship with food was still deeply disordered.
Trusting Nyree—and being honest about my lack of control around food—was terrifying. But I knew that if I wanted to return to competing at a high level, I needed professional support.
Nyree didn’t just help me fuel as an athlete; she helped me relearn how to enjoy food. Early on, we created a weekly life calendar that included training sessions, tournaments, travel days, social events, and recovery. From there, we planned meals that supported my performance and fit seamlessly into my real life.
The difference was crucial: these were foods I enjoyed and looked forward to eating—not meals driven by restriction or fear. We focused on simple, sustainable options and flexibility. When traveling internationally for tournaments—often staying in hotels in places like Egypt or Malaysia—I would send Nyree photos of restaurant menus so she could help guide my choices in a way that felt supportive rather than overwhelming.
We also developed a simple, reliable pre-match meal that I could access anywhere in the world: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich. To this day, it’s still part of my match routine.
Over the years, Nyree helped me understand the science of fueling for performance, navigating social eating situations, and intentionally including dessert after tournaments—allowing me to enjoy it fully rather than binge in private. She rejected diet culture entirely. There were no forbidden foods, no “cheat days,” and no labeling foods as good or bad. She emphasized connection, enjoyment, and shared meals.
Today, while we don’t work together as closely, I still rely on the life calendar structure and tools she gave me. One of my favorite parts of tournaments now is exploring food with friends—something 2017 me never could have imagined.
Finding Freedom Through Sharing My Story
The final piece of my recovery came in the summer of 2021, when a quiet but persistent voice told me I was ready to speak publicly. After years of accumulating tools and doing the work, I finally felt free from the binge–purge cycle that had dominated my life.
To mark that moment, I got an ankle tattoo: a bird with the word free next to it. It symbolized the release of the invisible weight I had carried for over a decade.
Sharing my story was about reclaiming power—but it was also about connection and finally feeling seen. I knew there were others silently fighting similar battles, and I didn’t want anyone to feel as alone as I once did. If my story could help even one person feel seen, understood, or brave enough to take a first step toward recovery, it would be worth it.
For a long time, I questioned whether my eating disorder was “valid.” I had never been formally diagnosed. I never completed structured treatment. I continued to perform at a high level. And because of that, I minimized my experience.
I now know how wrong I was.
Eating disorders do not have a single look or narrative. As National Eating Disorders Awareness Week reminds us through its theme, Every BODY Belongs, these illnesses do not discriminate. They can exist in high-performing, disciplined, outwardly successful athletes. They can affect people who never seek formal treatment, who are too afraid or ashamed to ask for help, and who suffer quietly for years. They affect people across all communities, backgrounds, and identities.
There is no one-size-fits-all experience.
In the spirit of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, and its reminder that Every BODY Belongs, I share my story in the hope that more people feel seen, worthy of support, and empowered to seek help—exactly as they are.
Sharing my story remains one of the proudest moments of my life. It reminds me that healing is possible, that vulnerability is strength, and that none of us are ever truly alone.
Resources
Are you concerned you might be struggling with an eating disorder? Take our confidential screening tool.
Are you looking for an eating disorder treatment provider? Find treatment in your area or online.
Are financial barriers preventing you from seeking the support you need? Learn more about free and low cost support options to connect with others and provide tools to promote recovery.
Amanda Sobhy is the most accomplished squash player in American history. She is the first American to break into the top five in world rankings, Sobhy reached a career-high and American record of #3 in the world before suffering one of two torn achilles over the course of her trailblazing career. Currently ranked #2 in the U.S. and #11 in the world on the Professional Squash Association (PSA) Tour after coming back from her second achilles rupture in December 2023, Sobhy is a six-time U.S. National Champion, two-time Pan American Games triple gold medalist (2015 & 2019), holds 22 PSA Titles, and helped guide Team USA to its first-ever World Team Championships final and silver medal in 2022 and 2024.
A four-time All-American and four-time Ivy League Player of the Year while studying at Harvard University, she compiled a historic record of 62-0 having only lost 2 games her entire college career. She helped lead the Crimson to three College Squash Association (CSA) Team National Championships and became only the second squash player to win four Individual National Titles.
Throughout her success, she quietly battled challenges with pressures and perfectionism on and off the court that directly impacted her mental health including an eating disorder, anxiety, and depression. Courageously, Sobhy has shared her personal struggles and experiences with bulimia to help inspire and encourage help-seeking behavior for others who may be facing similar challenges in life. She has recently returned to the court in 2024 following her second achilles injury with her sights set on the LA28 Summer Games where the sport of squash will be making its Olympic debut.
Sobhy also serves on the board of the Professional Squash Association, Squash & Education Alliance, and is an ambassador for the recently launched USSquash Foundation.
You can find her on Instagram at: @asobhy93
This blog post represents the author’s views and should not be interpreted as professional/medical advice or endorsed by NEDA.
