For years, the weight of a secret, an invisible shackle, bound me. My eating disorder, a silent companion through college and the early stages of my professional career, was a burden I carried alone, fueled by shame and a profound denial that kept me from seeking the formal treatment I desperately needed. The thought of acknowledging its reality, of seeing an eating disorder therapist, felt like an insurmountable hurdle. I wasn’t ready to face the truth. So, I buried it, hiding it from family, friends, coaches, teammates, and colleagues on the professional squash tour. This internal struggle persisted, an unseen opponent on the court of my life, until the fall of 2018, when the relentless cycle of bingeing and purging after tournaments became unbearable. A single, brief encounter with an eating disorder specialist, cut short by financial constraints and insurance limitations, offered a glimpse of hope but not sustained support. What followed was a long, often arduous, and nonlinear path to recovery, a journey that began in 2015 and culminated in my decision to share my story publicly in 2021. This path was forged through mindfulness-based interventions, relentless trial and error, the invaluable wisdom of lived experience, and the crucial guidance of two dedicated professionals: holistic sports psychologist Amy Gross and sports dietitian Nyree Dardarian. While our work together was not formally framed as eating disorder treatment, as they were part of my squash coaching team, our sessions became instrumental in addressing the psychological and nutritional patterns that perpetuated my struggle.
The Genesis of a Hidden Battle
The journey into the complexities of eating disorders is often subtle, its origins intertwined with deeply ingrained psychological traits. For many athletes, particularly those operating at elite levels, the drive for perfection, an unwavering commitment to discipline, and an "all-or-nothing" mentality can become both powerful assets and significant vulnerabilities. These characteristics, while crucial for achieving peak performance, can also create a fertile ground for disordered eating patterns to take root. In my own case, graduating from college in 2015 and transitioning to full-time professional squash marked a significant turning point. It was then that I began working with Amy Gross, a holistic sports psychologist whose approach immediately diverged from the performance-focused strategies I had anticipated.
Amy’s initial focus was not on my match statistics or court techniques, but on my internal landscape. She recognized that sustained excellence on the court was inextricably linked to well-being off the court, and more importantly, to the internal dialogue that shaped my perception of myself. Together, we began to unpack the core traits that characterized my inner world: an intense perfectionism, an all-or-nothing cognitive framework, a relentlessly harsh inner critic, limited emotional regulation skills, and a deficit in effective coping mechanisms. It became apparent that my responses to adversity, particularly after losses, periods of burnout, emotional dysregulation, or simply challenging days, were deeply rooted in these patterns.
Amy’s creation of a safe, nonjudgmental space was paramount. It was within this sanctuary that I, for the first time, found the courage to articulate the behaviors I had meticulously concealed: the bingeing and purging. The denial, a powerful defense mechanism, still lingered, as I was a high-functioning athlete, outwardly successful and seemingly in control. Yet, the internal reality was starkly different. Our work then shifted towards mindfulness-based interventions. This involved cultivating present-moment awareness, practicing nonjudgmental observation of my thoughts and feelings, engaging in meditation, identifying healthier coping strategies when faced with triggers, and, crucially, learning to create a vital space between my thoughts and my actions.
The binge-purge cycle had, for years, operated on an almost automatic pilot. Mindfulness served as the crucial intervention, disrupting this ingrained loop. I began to notice the nascent urges, the internal stirrings, rather than being entirely consumed by them. This newfound awareness granted me the precious opportunity to pause. This pause could manifest as a walk, a session of breathwork, journaling, meditation, or a moment of reflection on the inevitable negative aftermath of a binge. This conscious choice-making, with my future self in mind, represented a significant departure from my previous reactive patterns.
It is imperative to acknowledge that this transformation was not instantaneous. Relapses were a recurring reality. However, with each setback, the suffocating grip of shame and self-loathing began to loosen. The harshness of self-judgment gradually softened, replaced by a growing sense of compassion. Guilt and disgust were steadily supplanted by acceptance, kindness, and the reassuring knowledge that progress, however incremental, was still being made. A pivotal element in this journey was dismantling the perfectionist, all-or-nothing mindset. I learned that a single suboptimal day, a lost match, or an imperfect training session did not diminish my inherent worth. It did not signify failure, nor did it necessitate the ruin of an entire day. The ability to tolerate imperfection, to embrace my humanity, became a foundational pillar of my recovery.
Rebuilding a Healthy Relationship with Food
Parallel to my work with Amy, another critical figure emerged in my recovery: sports dietitian Nyree Dardarian. Our professional relationship began in the fall of 2017, coinciding with my recovery from my first Achilles rupture. At this juncture, my relationship with food remained profoundly disordered.
Entrusting Nyree with my struggles, and being candid about my lack of control around food, was a deeply terrifying prospect. Yet, the desire to return to elite competition propelled me forward. Nyree’s role extended far beyond simply optimizing my athletic fueling; she guided me in relearning how to experience enjoyment in food. Early in our collaboration, we developed a comprehensive weekly life calendar. This calendar meticulously integrated training sessions, tournaments, travel days, social engagements, and recovery periods. Within this framework, we strategically planned meals that not only supported my performance but also seamlessly integrated into the realities of my daily life.
This distinction was profoundly significant. The meals we planned were those I anticipated with pleasure, not those dictated by restriction or fear. Our focus gravitated towards simple, sustainable options and a commitment to flexibility. During international tournaments, often involving stays in hotels in diverse locations such as Egypt or Malaysia, I would send Nyree photographs of restaurant menus. Her guidance, offered remotely, provided a supportive framework for making informed choices, preventing the overwhelming feeling of being adrift.
We also established a simple yet reliable pre-match meal: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich. This has become an enduring ritual, a comforting constant in my match routine. Over the years, Nyree’s expertise empowered me to understand the science of fueling for athletic performance, navigate the complexities of social eating situations, and intentionally incorporate dessert after tournaments. This allowed for genuine enjoyment, rather than the secretive indulgence of a binge. She staunchly rejected the tenets of diet culture, eliminating notions of forbidden foods, "cheat days," and the damaging categorization of foods as "good" or "bad." Her philosophy centered on connection, enjoyment, and the shared experience of meals. Today, while our professional interactions are less frequent, the structure of the life calendar and the tools she equipped me with remain invaluable. One of my greatest joys now, particularly during tournaments, is exploring culinary experiences with friends – a prospect that would have been unimaginable for my 2017 self.
The Transformative Power of Public Disclosure
The final, crucial step in my recovery process materialized in the summer of 2021. A quiet but persistent inner voice signaled my readiness to share my story publicly. After years of accumulating coping mechanisms and diligently engaging in the arduous work of healing, I finally felt liberated from the binge-purge cycle that had so profoundly dictated my life.
To commemorate this profound moment of release, I chose to get an ankle tattoo: a bird accompanied by the word "free." This imagery symbolized the shedding of the invisible weight I had carried for over a decade. My decision to speak openly was an act of reclaiming my power, but it was also deeply rooted in a desire for connection and the yearning to finally feel truly seen. I understood that countless others were engaged in silent battles, mirroring my own struggles. My intention was to alleviate the profound sense of isolation that had once defined my experience. If my narrative could resonate with even one individual, offering a sense of being understood, validated, or emboldening them to take that crucial first step toward recovery, then it would be immeasurably worthwhile.
For an extended period, I grappled with the question of my eating disorder’s "validity." I had never received a formal diagnosis. I had not completed a structured treatment program. My outward appearance of high-level performance persisted. Consequently, I had a tendency to minimize the severity of my own experience. However, I now recognize the profound inaccuracy of that perspective.
Eating disorders do not conform to a singular archetype or narrative. As National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, with its empowering theme "Every Body Belongs," emphatically reminds us, these illnesses exhibit no discrimination. They can afflict individuals who are high-performing, disciplined, and outwardly successful athletes. They can impact those who opt against formal treatment, who are paralyzed by fear or shame, and who endure their suffering in silence for years. These disorders transcend all communities, backgrounds, and identities. There is no monolithic experience of an eating disorder.
In the spirit of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week and its vital message that "Every Body Belongs," I share my story with the sincere hope that more individuals will feel seen, recognize their inherent worthiness of support, and be empowered to seek help, precisely as they are. The act of sharing my story remains one of the most profound accomplishments of my life. It serves as a constant reminder that healing is not only possible but attainable, that vulnerability is a profound source of strength, and that in our shared humanity, none of us are ever truly alone.
Resources and Further Support
Amanda Sobhy’s journey underscores the multifaceted nature of eating disorder recovery, particularly within the demanding world of professional athletics. Her candid account highlights the critical role of specialized professionals, innovative therapeutic approaches like mindfulness, and the courage to seek support.
National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA): NEDA is a leading organization dedicated to supporting individuals and families affected by eating disorders. Their website, nationaleatingdisorders.org, offers comprehensive information, resources, and a helpline for those seeking assistance. They advocate for policy changes and provide educational programs to raise awareness and combat stigma.
The Professional Squash Association (PSA): The PSA, the governing body for professional men’s squash, is increasingly focusing on the mental well-being of its athletes. Their initiatives aim to provide resources and support systems to address issues such as performance anxiety, burnout, and mental health challenges. The inclusion of squash in the LA28 Summer Olympics is expected to further elevate the sport’s profile and the support systems available to its athletes.
Squash & Education Alliance: This organization works to provide educational and athletic opportunities for underserved youth through the sport of squash. Their holistic approach often addresses not only athletic development but also the social and emotional well-being of the young people they serve.
US Squash Foundation: The recently launched US Squash Foundation aims to grow the sport of squash in the United States, supporting athletes at all levels. Their initiatives often encompass athlete development and well-being.
Amanda Sobhy’s continued engagement with these organizations and her prominent role within the sport demonstrate a commitment to not only her own recovery but also to fostering a more supportive environment for future generations of athletes. Her personal narrative serves as a powerful testament to the fact that recovery is possible, and that vulnerability can be a catalyst for profound personal growth and collective healing.