Golf Tournament

Growing up, I believed life was full of endless possibilities. I had everything: a loving family, the comfort of being cared for each day, and a life that felt free from struggle. The simplest daily activities and ones most people never give a second thought to made me feel alive and full of purpose.

Had a stressful day? A quick walk or jog would fix it. Want to dress up and feel pretty in the new heels you just bought? Easy. Now you feel like yourself again. Want to travel, go on a hike, or climb a few stairs to reach the top? Done.

But slowly, everything began to change for me…

Two steps started to feel like two flights. Sitting down meant wondering if I could get back up without help. My peaceful walks began to feel like treading through deep water with each step being heavier than the last.

Living with Limb-Girdle Muscular Dystrophy means watching pieces of your independence fade away, and being forced to redefine what strength really is every single day. I now plan every movement with precision: How far is the walk? Are there stairs? Will there be a place to sit if I get tired? These are the small calculations that now shape every part of my life.

I’ve never felt more mentally exhausted or physically drained. It’s frustrating. It’s isolating. It’s overwhelming. I’m tired of being called lazy or told I don’t want to do something when no one sees the silent battle I’m fighting every day. Still, this experience has taught me lessons I never expected to learn.

I’m learning how to ask for help and believe me, this is hard. I’ve found people who care deeply, who accept me fully, who show up for me in ways that matter. I’ve uncovered a quiet kind of resilience I never knew I had and I’ve realized that everyone is fighting something, even if you can’t always see it.

I used to think I understood struggle. But this journey has redefined it and with it, helped me truly value the life I have. There’s grief in this, yes. Grieving what once was, what I used to be able to do. But there’s also pride. Because every single day, I choose to keep going. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. And that, to me, is what real strength looks like.

This experience has also given me something else: a purpose. Raising awareness for Muscular Dystrophy isn’t about seeking pity, it’s about creating change. It’s about building a community where no one feels invisible. It’s about letting people know they are understood, seen, heard, and not alone.

Too many people don’t fully understand what MD is, but that’s why events like this matter. They bring people together. They educate. They empower. They give people like me and so many others a chance to share our stories and feel seen. For too long I felt alone. But not anymore. I know I have the ability to make a difference and if you know you can create change, you should.

Struggling with LGMD has shown me how truly blessed I am. It’s allowed me to bring people together, to raise awareness, and to be part of something bigger than myself. I can’t wait to look back 10 years from now and see how far we’ve come. I want to be the person who sparked something meaningful in my community. I don’t want to wonder what could have been. I want to make it happen.