For a Long Time, I Was a Doer
For as long as I can remember, I was a doer. My energy was boundless, unstoppable, like it had no off switch. Family and friends often marveled, wondering how one person could be so endlessly driven, so relentlessly in motion. But for me, that energy wasn’t just a quirk... It was my superpower.
It was the force that pushed me through life’s many hardships. It kept me stable, structured, financially sound, socially engaged, and professionally thriving. I was outgoing, vibrant, endlessly curious. I had walked through the fire, and I came out a warrior.
Even from a young age, life demanded more of me. With absent parents and fragile social structures, I became an adult far too early. I worked while others played, learned how to survive when others were still learning to ride bikes. But I was strong. Resilient. I was my own superhero. A lone wolf. A force of nature.
And then, at 31, everything changed.
The Accident That Changed Everything
It was just a fun day on the slopes with a friend. Until it wasn’t. One wrong fall, one brutal impact to the back of my head on the icy snow, and my life as I knew it began to unravel.
What followed were years of unbearable pain, confusion, and helplessness. Hospital after hospital. Specialist after specialist. No answers. No diagnosis. No help.
I burned through my life savings, the ones I’d been stacking for my dream home. The energetic powerhouse I once was... was now bedbound. Barely eating. Sleepless. Numb. Seizures. My job? Gone. My apartment? Gone. My friends? Drifting. My future? Unknown.
I lost everything, including the one person I could always count on: myself.
Losing My Superpower: What Chronic Pain Really Takes
You don't just lose your health when chronic pain shows up. You lose your identity.
I went from being the girl who could light up a room and row the hardest, to someone who struggled to even exist. My entire internal GPS shut down. My energy, once a badge of honor, was now completely gone. I had no home. No plan. No money. No name for what I was going through. Just isolation, confusion, and fear.
This was my rock bottom. And it wasn’t a moment, it was a season of life. One that still continues.
What I Wish You Knew About the Silent Battle
If you live with chronic pain or love someone who does, you are not alone. I know it feels like it. But you're not.
No, I don’t have a “healing program” to sell you. No $10,000 webinar. I’ve sat through all that. I’ve felt that desperate hope—only to feel duped again.
I’m not here to promise you a cure.
I’m here to tell you: I hear you. I see you. I am you.
Why I’m Writing This
I’m sharing my story for one reason, so you can breathe a little easier tonight knowing someone out there gets it.
You deserve to be seen. You deserve to be understood. Not dismissed. Not packaged into a 5-step plan.
You don’t need another “fix.” You need care. You need space to grieve. Space to hope. Space to just be, without feeling like you’re selling your pain to justify your needs.
So welcome home, friend. I’m not here to heal you. But I’m here to walk beside you. To listen. To witness. To care.
And that? That might just be a start.