Years ago, I lost 18kgs and thought I’d figured it out. But I hadn’t. I got sucked straight back into the toxic BS of diet culture—restriction, punishment, chasing skinny like it was the holy grail. And it nearly killed me. Being a performer and dancer and living alot of my younger life in the modelling industry asthetics were definatly first before health.

I wasted away to 35kgs, thinking I was winning. I wasn’t. I was starving, sick, and completely disconnected from my body.

What I didn’t realise back then was that my body wasn’t the problem. It was crying out for support. Not less food… more. More nourishment, more love, more life. I should have known better, having my illnesses for my whole life then to slam my body like that was just rude, but I was young and thought I knew everything.

Later down the track—fast forward a few years—I was under massive stress, caring for my beautiful dad after he was diagnosed with Primary Progressive MS. It took years to get answers. He’d already had a heart attack and countless other health issues before they finally figured out what was going on. He was the man who taught me everything about strength, love, and what really matters in life.

At the same time, I was caring for my Nanna, too. Life was beyond hectic. I ended up having to close down my first nutrition business in 2017 to be there for them both and find work wherever I could. I was juggling retail jobs when I was offered a gig as a lingerie waitress in Sydney. Honestly, I couldn’t turn it down. It was minimal hours for a generous income—and it meant I could be there for both my Nanna and my dad when they needed me most during the week.

We struggled to get the support and services they both needed, so I took on almost everything myself. I wanted them to maintain their independence and dignity for as long as possible, so I stepped up and did whatever I had to do. And I’d do it all again.

During that time, my own needs—especially food—were the last thing I thought about. I was working late nights and travelling up to three hours each way just to get to work. I’d grab anything on the go, just to get through. And after a shift, I was so bloody hungry I would basically eat chips smothered in a lake full of salt washed down with a ciggie and call it dinner. (Honestly, no regrets. Potatoes are elite af, the ciggie makes me want to vomit at the thought now though)

But when both my dad and my Nanna passed—my two best friends, the people who raised me, loved me, and kept me going—I was gutted. Heartbroken in a way I still can’t put into words.

But you know what they both gave me that saved my life? The love of simple, humble, nourishing food. Real food. They taught me that food is life. It’s love. It’s healing. They kept me alive more times than I can count—through every illness, every flare-up, and every time I fucked up, those two humans had my back to no end.

So yeah, I get it. I know what it feels like to be unwell, unfit, and completely disconnected from your body. I’ve done all the diets, hoping they’d fix me. I have eaten shit food and no food at all to eating every food. But restriction and chronic illness don’t go hand in hand. Trust me.

Stepping back a few years, going through peri-menopause in my early 20s—yep, early 20s—for eight long years packed 18kgs onto my tiny dancer frame. My confidence was shattered. I didn’t recognise myself anymore.

My body had been through enough living already with chronic illness: Addison’s disease, kidney disease, adrenal failure, hypoparathyroidism, and polyglandular autoimmune syndrome. Basically, I hit the autoimmune jackpot—and life as I knew it flipped upside down.

On top of that, caring for my dad and giving both him and my nanna the best in their final years was everything to me… but I burned myself out in the process. Ignored my own health. Pushed my body until it broke. Autoimmune flare-ups, adrenal crashes, and the worst inner critic you could imagine were the result. But I’d do it all again in an instant. I would just eat better food and check in with my mental health.

Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, I had a full hysterectomy. After a year of nonstop bleeding, two failed D&Cs, and what felt like an endless ride of hormone hell, I was cracked wide open—physically and mentally. Finding the right HRT was a nightmare. My hormones were bottomed out, my mind was hanging by a thread, and the medical system left me feeling unheard, dismissed, and hopeless.

Anxiety, panic attacks, deep depression, body dysmorphia… I was wrecked. There were days I thought the world would be better off without me. That’s the truth.

But then I dug deep. Deeper than I ever thought possible.

I threw myself into learning. I’d already started studying nutrition and women’s health, but I doubled down. I got laser-focused on understanding my body—my hormones, my needs—and finally figured out how to support it with the right nutrition, movement, and mindset.

That’s when the real healing started.

That’s when She Strong was born.

She Strong isn’t just about fitness or food. It’s about knowing yourself. Loving the absolute shit out of yourself. Fueling your body like it deserves. And finally feeling like YOU again—strong, confident, resilient.

Because food isn’t something I use to control my body anymore. It’s how I support it. Nourish it. Strengthen it so I can live a big, full, vibrant life—whatever that looks like for me in this season.

And I’m here to help you do the same.

This is your reminder: You are stronger than you think. Your body isn’t broken. You just need to understand it. Nourish it. Back yourself.

And that’s what She Strong is all about.

Love

Casey-Leigh X