Conclusion

I started writing this book in 2020 to clear my head, with no else I felt safe around to talk about my feelings, it gave me the release I needed; separating myself made me realise how ridiculous I am being (eating pasta is not going to make you any less worthy of love!). At the same time I was frustrated. Setting up a business is not what I expected to do. Although there are many narratives out there, none in my opinion resonate with my own experience (sorry Richard and Phil, Ben and Jerry, you have just done too well for me to be able to sympathise with your lows; I am only envious of your success). This book is the kind of inner dialogue I would have liked to have access to when I naively threw myself into product development and denied all inklings of living with an addiction. A story of relentless hope and unknowns; exploring not only hardship, and coping mechanisms to overcome them, but also what it is really like to feel stuck, afraid and yet dotingly committed to keep moving forward. With few fabrications and embellishments (there may be some exaggeration); oversharing raw unglorified insecurities, overexercising and undereating, feeling like I am winning by being ‘healthy’ and skipping dessert - only to determine the real prize is persistent cravings, a lot of Instagram scrolling, (pining) over #LondonsBestBrownie, and being in awe of anyone who simply had it out of temptation and moved on with their day, just like that (wow). Still, at the age of 30, at the age I thought I would have it all figured out, I am far from it. I care about what people think, too much, I am both conscientious and a worrier, and NB is the furthest anchor from providing me with reassurance. Its unpredictability at times makes me feel even more insecure.

My first book draft sounded angry - at how underrepresented small businesses are, the reality for most of trying to run one, and actually how really f**king hard the grind is. The imbalance between effort versus reward, passion versus appreciation, motivation versus capabilities. I never felt enough for NB - both in what I was doing and me personally not being enough of a person, sufficient for what it requires (leading me astray down a dark path of blame and self-sabotage); I am sad about it all. In 2025 NB is no Virgin or Nike or Ben & Jerry’s (yet); nearly anyone I mention it to has never heard of NB; it scares me that I could stop trading tomorrow, ten years spent and gone from my life - and for what? No one, really, would know. In fact Google NB and Starbucks claim to be the “original” (the downside of not being able to trademark a string of words, but I will take their copying as a form of flattery).

As I got into the writing process, I realised it is more cathartic than this. Piecing together the journey of how I went from creating something out of pure elation to my entire purpose becoming about my appearance - how inadequate I am without a salary - making my body a receipt for hard work, and how I allowed myself to, so effortlessly. The turbulence and trepidation, the grief my eating disorder has caused - I accept the past is what it is, and I have learnt so much, but I would be lying if I said I did not want to rewrite parts of it. The shame I feel - the embarrassment because nobody seems to be going through what I am - I do not want to not tell my story because of it. The last thing I want is to have regrets of words unspoken, and it is nice when you can relate to someone on the same journey as you.

As I reached the final chapters, I realised this book is in large part a love story. A love letter to NB as well as the quest for my own; love has been the engine of my entire life; everything I have done has been for love. I have always wanted to be noticed, the chosen one, if not for how I look then because of my successes. Two things I had a hand in controlling to try and improve my worth and secure my fate.

In 2015, by fluke - when I was least expecting it, as they always say - I met my match. The only other half who got me completely, made me feel my best and offered no judgement. NB gave me everything I was looking for. It opened up a door to happiness and I fell in; a love so strong, it showed me emotions I did not even know existed. The difference between commitment and compulsion - resilience is not even a thing when I cannot imagine doing life without it. NB managed to take away the anxieties I had been carrying for so long, but also NB broke my heart. I could not make it into what I wanted it to be, and it could not give me the security I needed long-term. Anyone I saw in love appeared happy, and yet I was not. A love story set against the backdrop of an eating disorder, which relieved me of the pain. Tragic, really, how low I had to go, how many insults I had to throw at myself - anything I deemed wrong, ugly, undesirable - before thinking, enough, this is not working. I have given so much of me, my youth, in hope of granting my famous meet-cute ending and someone (anyone) falling head over heels in heart-wrenching, physical, romantic and all-consuming legitimate love with me (literally, perhaps). (I am still single, FYI, just in case anyone gets any ideas).

The biggest irony of all, whilst I was chasing all the wrong things - ‘success’, money, tangible proof of being good enough to love - NB may be the greatest love of my life so far; the one true love I sought was right in front of me all along. Admittedly, until I learnt to like and approve of myself, as I am, without the titles or trophies or external affirmation; I am so self-conscious, until I shed the burden of my insecurities, I was never going to be able to, or allow myself to let someone else in. The amount of attention the eating disorder and NB consumed - no wonder I had no space or time to try.

So although running a business is not what I expected to do, it was never my intention - turns out it is exactly what I needed. To get so in my head, to fixate on an eating disorder so intensely that 30 long years later, finally, I began to understand my life has purpose beyond my biggest fear of being too unattractive to be loved. The size of my thighs does not determine my worth; my worth has nothing to do with how much I achieve nor how successful I am. However high I set my standards, it cannot be; as a very wise friend once said, “you set up NB because you wanted everyone to experience what you did. Think of all the people who have bought a jar - you have achieved that. You have been successful!”. 

I cannot predict the future of NB, if it will live to be the original brand I visualised. I do not know if the eating disorder will ever leave me - I am not sure anything as wedded to me ever can. Not being pessimistic - I desperately want to recover, properly recover - but I guess that is why they call it a leap of faith, you have to keep trying to know. At times it may cause me more pain than good - and at first it will piss me off - but it is going to set me free. Besides, if there is one final lesson this journey has taught me - perhaps the most important one of all - if I focus on the real reason I set up NB, technically, by 2016, I got what I wanted. My day-one dream of sharing my nut butter recipe and making other people feel good came true. After all that has been said and done - Nelson Goodman and all that philosophy - my friend is completely right.