Falling Didn’t End Me

-


 
It Rewrote Me

There was a time when that sentence felt impossible. Years ago, while I was studying teaching, my neurologist told me something that changed everything. The tests came back showing water cysts throughout my brain. Suddenly, there was an explanation for why information wouldn’t stay, why studying felt like trying to hold water in my hands. And just like that, I was told I might have to give up my studies.


I only had two years left.


It felt like the world was swept out from under me, and I just kept falling—no ground, no certainty, no plan. When something you’ve worked toward for so long disappears, it’s not just a degree you lose. It’s identity. Direction. Hope.


But in the middle of that loss, something unexpected happened.


A wonderful friend saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself anymore. My friend told me I should become a psychologist. At first, it sounded almost ironic—after endless blood tests, scans, appointments, and learning the language of illness from the inside out. I had lived medicine, lived uncertainty, lived resilience before I had words for it.


So I tried. I prayed. And eventually, I let go.

Years passed. Six to seven years of learning about the human brain in different ways—through survival, curiosity, and lived experience. I didn’t always feel proud. Sometimes I just felt tired. But today, I allow myself this truth:



I am proud of myself.

Proud of not giving up on learning.

Proud of every small step I took when the big picture felt too heavy.

Proud of continuing even when the applause was quiet.



Only my husband and a dear friend are openly excited with me. My family is strongly against psychology. But I’ve come to understand something important: sometimes being called to heal means choosing a path others don’t yet understand.


I will be the one who breaks the generational curse.

The youngest daughter who lived, who saw too much too young, and who decided to turn pain into purpose.


My mission is simple and enormous all at once: to help those who don’t yet know how to help themselves.


If you’re reading this while falling—while grieving a version of yourself you thought you’d be—please know this: falling doesn’t mean the end. Sometimes it’s the moment the story changes direction.


This is me, flaring and flourishing.

And I’m just getting started.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

From Dismissal to Diagnosed.

-
Image
  My Fibromyalgia Journey: From Dismissal to Diagnosis It all started with a simple migraine and vision loss at the age of 16. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but as the symptoms persisted, I knew something wasn’t right. I went from doctor to doctor, searching for answers, only to be dismissed time and time again. My CRP levels (a marker of inflammation) were constantly high, yet the advice remained the same—“Go on a diet, exercise more.” The irony? I was already doing everything right. I exercised twice a day, ate healthily, and pushed myself beyond limits, yet my body refused to co-operate. I was labeled a “difficult puzzle” by male doctors who couldn’t seem to figure me out. Eventually, my GP decided to dig deeper, sending me for CT and MRI scans. That’s when they found two 5mm cysts in my brain. Suddenly, the relentless migraines, nosebleeds, and constant exhaustion made sense. Despite getting a full night’s sleep, I always woke up drained, as if I hadn’t slept at all. Thi...
Read more

Appetite

-
Image
                                                          The Battle No One Sees Let’s talk about something I rarely see mentioned in fibromyalgia conversations: appetite. Or rather—the complete mess that appetite can become when your body is fighting an invisible war. Some days, I cry because I have to eat. The thought of chewing, swallowing, the textures, the effort—it all feels overwhelming. My body feels too tired to even digest, and yet I know I need fuel. I know I need nutrients. I know, logically, that skipping meals won’t help me heal—but emotionally, mentally, and physically, eating can feel like climbing a mountain I never signed up for. Then there are the other days—where all I want is liquid. I want to drown in water, juice, tea… anything but food. It’s like my body is desperate to soothe itself, but can’t figure out what it needs....
Read more

Living with Fibromyalgia and Mental Health: A Daily Struggle

-
Image
Living with fibromyalgia and mental health challenges feels like an ongoing battle. It’s as though I’ve lost the person I used to be, looking in the mirror and not recognizing myself anymore. The constant, unrelenting pain has a way of stripping away the familiar parts of you. It doesn’t get easier—each day brings its own hurdles—but somehow, you learn to live with the daily struggles. You adjust, you adapt, and you push forward, even when it feels impossible. And just when you think you’ve managed to carry the weight of your body’s betrayal, your mental health takes over. It sneaks in quietly but lands so heavily. The sadness, the frustration, the feelings of inadequacy—they all take their toll. Yet, here I am, sharing this with you. Because even in this struggle, I’ve found strength—not always the kind you see, but the kind that keeps you going. And I hope, by sharing my story, someone out there feels a little less alone. We’re in this together. Follow me on twitter for updates  ...
Read more