The Past
I never thought illness could sneak up on someone like me. In my early forties, I was a project manager at a technology firm, constantly moving, never stopping. Twelve-hour workdays were my normal. Rest was for the weak, I told myself. My partner would plead with me to slow down, but I'd laugh it off, believing my relentless energy was a superpower.
My body sent signals. Persistent headaches. Random dizzy spells. Moments where my vision would blur unexpectedly. But I rationalized everything. Stress. Lack of sleep. Too much coffee. Anything but considering something might be seriously wrong.
The Turning Point
It happened during a critical product launch. One moment I was presenting to our executive team, the next I was on the floor. Complete memory blackout. Seizure, they told me later. The first real sign that something was fundamentally wrong.
Tests revealed a complex neurological condition developing silently for years. The doctors used terms like 'advanced stage' and 'progressive'. Words that sound clinical but feel like daggers when they're describing your own body.
Looking Back Now
Recovery wasn't just physical. It was a complete reconstruction of how I understood myself. I learned that ignoring warning signs doesn't make them disappear - it just gives them more time to grow unchecked.
My career, my identity, my sense of invincibility - all were challenged. But in that challenging moment, I discovered a resilience I never knew existed. Treatment became my new full-time job. Patience, my unexpected skill.
The Lesson
Health isn't a luxury. It's the foundation everything else is built upon. Pushing through isn't strength - listening is. Our bodies communicate constantly. We just need the wisdom to pay attention.
I learned that vulnerability isn't weakness. It's the most courageous form of honesty we can offer ourselves.