Another Chance at a New Day

I am grateful to Keisha for encouraging me to share my journey. I hope reading this brings insight, encouragement, and hope.

Sharing these experiences publicly was not an easy decision. I have chosen to remain anonymous—not out of fear, to seek pity, or to place blame, but to highlight hope, strength, resilience and to keep the focus entirely on message over identity.

Please note that this piece touches on sensitive topics, including chronic illness, suicide, campus violence, and domestic abuse.

Everyone’s story matters, no matter how big or small it may seem. You never truly know who you might impact, help, or support simply by being brave enough to share what you have lived through.

Having already walked through these challenges, I have been fortunate to guide several people through their own difficult situations because I knew what to expect and how to navigate the path forward. My intention in sharing this is to show that even through profound difficulty, healing, connection, and growth are always possible.

I grew up in a small town with a supportive, loving family. My childhood was happy; filled with good friends, a self-admitted "dorky" middle school phase, and cheerleading in high school.

However, behind the scenes, my health began to decline in middle school. Starting in the 6th grade, I experienced regular, debilitating headaches. By 8th grade, they progressed to severe neurological symptoms—including blurred vision, slurred speech, limb numbness, and brain fog.

For four years, until the summer after high school graduation, I lived with daily headache pain ranging from mild discomfort to bedridden flare-ups. During this time, my symptoms were frequently dismissed as "dramatic" or simple anxiety.

I have been medically gaslit most of my life.

It is an extremely frustrating feeling to tell a medical professional your truth and what you are experiencing, for them to just dismiss you entirely and say you need to lose weight, drink more water and get more sleep.

I hate the word “dramatic” due to this, as I have associated it with being called a liar.

I am not a liar.

I have had to defend myself and my experience time and time again, to try to get the proper treatment so that I could possibly feel somewhat “normal”.

Thank God I have amazing parents who advocated for me and believed me. I would not be where I am now without them.

An MRI eventually revealed the true diagnosis: Chiari Malformation Type 1, which required surgery shortly after graduation. Today, I live with over 12 chronic conditions, managing daily physical challenges as best I can.

I have good days and bad days, but no matter what kind of day I am having, I am just thankful to be alive and have another chance at a new day and another chance to fulfill my mission on earth.

I have endured domestic abuse. I stayed far longer than I should have, as many people do in these scenarios and put up with far more than I should have ever even considered.

I left because I did not want my children to grow up and think that was “normal” and what relationships were supposed to look like.

I was not blameless by any means. I am human and made plenty of my own mistakes in those relationships. I can only take accountability and responsibility for my own actions and part in those situations. I will not take the blame or assume the blame for the actions of the people who were being abusive.

I successfully left those situations safely. Today, I live a peaceful, fulfilling life with my children.

While many identify with terms like "survivor" or "victim," I personally choose not to use that language. To me, labeling myself in relation to what happened feels like giving the abuser ongoing power over my identity.

Instead, I view it as a matter-of-fact event: it was real, it happened, and now it is over.

So, I say that I have “endured domestic violence” instead.

While I deeply respect how others process their own trauma, this distinction was essential for me to reclaim my complete freedom and keep my identity as my own. I also hope that can give people a way to take back their own power, as well.

My first year of college, I was an older student, single momma at this time. I lost a good friend to suicide.

Just weeks later, our campus experienced a horrific tragedy when a man came onto campus and murdered his father—a professor at our school—and his father's partner.

While I was not in the classroom when it happened, my classmates and I were studying nearby, heard the commotion, and helped evacuate people once police arrived. I had severe guilt for not going up to the classroom to try to help the teacher.

All I could think about at the time was protecting the ones around me and that I had to be safe and smart so I could go home to my babies.

Even over a decade later, I still navigate panic attacks stemming from that event.

There are many other things I have encountered or endured in my life up to this point. Lots and lots of wonderful things. Lots and lots of challenging things. Some sad, some bad, and some not so great.

I’m no different than anyone else. We all face struggles and challenges and hardships.

What matters is not what those challenges are… those are always going to be there…. What matters is HOW we choose to respond, act, and handle what is right in front of us.

How did I make it through all of this?

The answer is simple: God, my family, my friends, and an incredible support system.

I prayed continuously, trusting that God would carry me through and ultimately use my painful experiences for good. I relied heavily on the people around me when I couldn't support myself—they prayed for me, offered sound advice, and loved me unconditionally.

Through every hardship, I have developed tools that continue to serve me and help others. Self-regulation and compassion are things that I have learned and am now able to regulate my own panic attacks and can help guide others through theirs.

I have learned to have clarity under pressure by navigating crises. I figured out how to stay calm and clear-headed in emergency situations.

I learned more about my own resilience and how to build, set, and hold boundaries. This led me to find purpose in difficulty and embraced the right to take up space as my authentic self.

If you are navigating any sort of difficult circumstance, there are many things that you can do. Know that you are not alone and that there are people and organizations out there that can and will help you through this.

And like Keisha always says, "Yes you KANN!"