About me
I just looked through 18 years of pictures searching for the one that could tell it all—the who, the why, the how.
What I realized is that every picture tells part of the story. Together, they paint the picture of the person I am today.
The hardest realization? Most of those years were filled with failures, doubts, and sadness.
Not because life was always terrible.
I stayed there because I didn't know how to get out.
I was a happy, confident person until one day my thigh felt weird. I remember thinking, "What did I do hiking?"
Twelve hours later, half my body was numb.
Leg. Foot. Neck.
The doctor had no idea what was happening. She flipped through a diagnostic book and said, "You might have ovarian cancer, or the neurologist might be able to help. Sorry, I don't know."
I was 28 years old.
A few weeks later, I had a Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis.
From 2009 until I became pregnant in 2016, life felt like survival.
Autoimmune fatigue. Digestive issues. Losing my vision. (That was trippy.) A corticosteroid infusion that ended with a fever and a year of medical complications.
The best way I can describe it is this:
You wake up with one bottle of energy for the day. By the time you've showered and eaten breakfast, there's only a tiny amount left for everything else—work, studying, walking the dog, cooking, cleaning, being a person.
Then came pregnancy.
For the first time in years, I felt like myself again.
I was rested. I was happy. I had energy. I felt normal.
And that feeling led to a crazy thought:
What if MS doesn't get to define me?
What if I can influence this?
So I started reading. I started training. I built muscle. I ate well.
I started feeling powerful again.
And here's the funny thing.
Building muscle changed far more than my body.
For most of my life, I wanted to be skinny. Really skinny.
I had spent years trying to take up less space.
Then I met someone who slowly introduced me to a different idea.
Women like Dana Linn Bailey started filling my social media feed.
At first, I hated it.
Then something changed.
That "skinny ideal" started looking fragile.
Those strong women didn't look masculine.
They looked healthy. Capable. Confident. Strong as hell.
Eventually, I got strong too.
And what surprised me most wasn't how it looked.
It was how it felt.
It feels incredible to have a body that works. A body that moves well. A body you can trust.
When lifting 3–5 pounds once felt hard, squatting more than 1.5 times your bodyweight feels like magic.
That experience changed my life.
Because I realized I wanted to help people experience their own version of that feeling.
Not my goals.
Theirs.
Maybe that's getting off the floor quickly to throw a ball for the dog.
Maybe it's throwing that ball farther than ever before.
Maybe it's walking down the stairs without grabbing the handrail.
Maybe it's improving osteoporosis.
Maybe it's overcoming autoimmune fatigue.
Maybe it's performing a karate form without knee pain.
That's what these 18 years of pictures brought me to.
A new picture of myself.
A coach.
A student.
Someone still learning so I can help more people.
And if I'm being completely honest, the last four months have been rough for my health.
Truthfully, it's probably been a two-year obstacle that I slowly built in front of myself without realizing it.
So now I'm doing exactly what I ask my clients to do.
I'm working toward getting stronger.
One rep at a time.
Let's do this.
