My Third Heart Surgery: Cardiac Catheter Ablation Experience

 If you had told me a few years ago that I’d be writing about my third heart surgery, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. And yet, here we are.

This time, it was a catheter ablation for atrial fibrillation (AFib), specifically paroxysmal AFib, which basically means my heart likes to randomly go off rhythm when it feels like it. The goal of the procedure was simple in theory: use energy to target and stop the abnormal electrical signals causing the irregular heartbeat. In practice, it’s a lot more intense than it sounds.

I got to the hospital at 6 a.m., which somehow doesn't feel that early when you’re about to have heart surgery. They started with the usual routine: IV, labs, all the prep. Eventually, they brought me back to the operating room and started placing stickers all over my body. These aren’t just random stickers; they act as a map for your heart, helping guide the electrical signals and the ablation itself.

Unlike my previous procedures, this one was under general anesthesia, which meant I was fully put to sleep and intubated. As nervous as that might sound, the vibe right before was actually kind of comforting. They played Taylor Swift as I was drifting off, which felt very on-brand for me and honestly made the moment a little less scary.

The actual procedure went exactly how you hope these things go: smoothly. My doctor told me afterward that he got everything he went in for. Even better, he checked the arrhythmia I had my previous ablations for and couldn’t trigger anything. That was a huge win. For the first time in a while, it felt like maybe we’re actually getting ahead of this.

Waking up, though, was rough.

I was freezing in that bone-deep, can’t-stop-shivering kind of way, and the chest pain hit immediately.  They loaded me up with warm blankets, hot packs, and pain meds, which helped take the edge off, but I won’t sugarcoat it: it hurt. There was a lot of burning done during the procedure, and now they’re treating the pain as pericarditis, which is inflammation around the heart. It’s expected, but that doesn’t make it feel any better when you’re in it.

Another difference this time was that I had incisions on both sides of my groin, instead of just one. It sounds small, but it definitely makes moving around harder. Even something as basic as standing up becomes a whole process.

At one point, when I first got up to walk, I started bleeding from the incision on my right side. Apparently, that can happen, but it still wasn’t exactly reassuring in the moment. It delayed my discharge a bit, but thankfully, everything stabilized.

And then, just like that, I was home by 2:30 p.m.

Same day. Heart surgery in the morning, back in my own bed by the afternoon. It’s kind of wild when you think about it.

Recovery, though, is never as simple as the timeline makes it sound.

A few days after surgery, things got complicated. The medication they put me on for the pericarditis completely wrecked my stomach. I’m talking full-on gastrointestinal issues to the point where I couldn’t keep food down and ended up losing weight. I had to stop taking it, which then meant the chest pain came back stronger. So it became this frustrating trade-off between managing inflammation and being able to function at all.

At the same time, I started experiencing visual migraines, like kaleidoscope vision with wavy triangles that literally block out parts of what I can see. Apparently, this happens in a small percentage of patients after an ablation.

Of course, I had to be in that percentage.

That’s been one of the hardest parts of this whole process. Not just the big things, but all the unexpected side effects stacked on top of each other. It’s exhausting, both physically and mentally.

A lot of people asked me before the surgery if I was nervous. The honest answer is not really, at least not about the procedure itself. By the third time, you know the drill. You know what the room looks like, what the process feels like, what waking up is like.

What I was nervous about was something else entirely: what if it doesn’t work again?

Because that’s the part no one really prepares you for: the mental side of going through something like this over and over again. It’s hard not to wonder if this is just your reality now. If this is something you’ll keep dealing with indefinitely.

Right now, I’m in that in-between phase. I’ll be on medication for about six weeks, and then we’ll stop and see how my heart behaves. It’s also completely normal to have arrhythmias in the two to three months after surgery while everything is healing and the new pathways in the heart are settling in. So even if things feel off, it doesn’t necessarily mean it didn’t work.

Still, waiting is hard.

But despite all of it, the pain, the side effects, the setbacks, I keep coming back to one feeling: gratitude.

Grateful that the procedure went well.
Grateful for a doctor who took the time to check everything thoroughly.
Grateful that, at least for now, things are pointing in the right direction.

Recovery isn’t linear. It’s messy and uncomfortable and, at times, discouraging. But I’m holding onto the hope that this is the last time I have to go through this. That my heart is finally getting the reset it needs.

And for now, that’s enough.

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Ten Years Later

This week, I celebrated the ten year anniversary of my endometriosis surgery and subsequent diagnosis. The day I was officially labeled as “not crazy” and entered into a completely new chapter of my life. It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years. I genuinely have no idea where the time has gone.

For so long before that surgery, I was fighting to be believed. Fighting doctors. Fighting my own body. Fighting the quiet voice in the back of my head that wondered if maybe everyone else was right and I was exaggerating. That operating room gave me more than a diagnosis. It gave me validation. It gave me proof. It gave me permission to trust myself again.

Endometriosis has taken a lot from me. It has taken days, weeks, entire seasons of my life. It has taken energy I will never get back. It has taken a version of girlhood that felt carefree and simple. But it has also made me into the person I am today.

Someone who knows how to advocate for herself and for others. Someone who has quite literally made a career out of it. Someone who does not care what others think because she has already survived being doubted at her most vulnerable. Someone who is confident. Someone who knows what really matters in life because she learned early on how fast your life can change. Someone who surrounds herself with good people because she understands how precious time is. Someone with unwavering determination and ambition because she has had to fight for everything. Someone who is kind because she knows better than anyone that people can be fighting battles silently. Someone who others can look to when they have just been diagnosed and feel like their world is ending. The list really does go on and on.

I am so proud of the person I am today. And I hate to say it, but I truly do not think I would be this version of myself without all the adversity I have faced. Ten years ago, I remember thinking that if I was going to have to live with this, it had to mean something. I wanted to turn my pain into purpose. I didn't know how yet. I didn't know what that would look like. But I knew I could not let it be for nothing. I am proud to say I have done just that.

I worked with my doctors and my boss to write and file legislation that eliminates the primary care referral requirement for specialty gynecological care so others do not have to fight as hard as I did to be heard. I took the worst moments of my life and turned them into policy. Into change. Into something tangible that could make the path a little smoother for the next person sitting in an exam room begging someone to listen.

Every single day in my job, I use the skills that were sharpened by my pain. I advocate for people in their most vulnerable and hardest moments. People navigating housing crises. People dealing with healthcare systems that feel impossible. People who are exhausted and scared and just want someone to pick up the phone and fight for them. I know how that feels. I know what it is like to feel small in a system that is supposed to help you. And I refuse to let people feel alone if I can help it. And I am just getting started.

In the last ten years, I have graduated high school. I graduated college. I am now just months away from graduating with my master’s degree. Somehow, I have thrived academically every step of the way. I think part of it has been distraction. School gave me structure. It gave me something to focus on when my body felt out of control. It reminded me that my brain still worked even when my body felt like it was failing me.

I completed internships. I nannied. I worked in offices on my college campus. I led many clubs. I said yes to opportunities even when I was tired. All of it led me to the full time job I have today. A job that is challenging and exhausting and demanding. A job that I love. A job that constantly reminds me that everyone is carrying something.

Sometimes I look back at fourteen year old me, sitting in therapy for depression because it felt like no one believed her pain, and I wish I could hug her. She could not imagine a future. She could not imagine feeling strong. She definitely could not imagine a future this bright. She thought her life was over before it had even begun. If only she could see me now.

I still struggle every single day. Every single day is a battle to get out of bed. Chronic illness does not disappear just because you have grown around it. The pain still shows up. The fatigue still lingers. The frustration still creeps in. But I have tools now. I have coping skills. I have perspective. I know what my body is capable of surviving. I know that I can do hard things.

The last ten years have not been easy. They have been messy and painful and complicated. But they have also been filled with growth, purpose, and resilience I never knew I had.

I cannot wait to see what the next ten years will bring. I hope for less pain and fewer medical battles. I hope for more advocacy, more impact, more moments where someone feels heard because I spoke up. Most of all, I hope I continue to honor that girl who just wanted to be believed.

Ten years ago, I was fighting for a diagnosis. Today, I am living proof that you can fight, survive, and still build a life you are proud of.

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What I Wish I Knew When I Was First Diagnosed

Receiving a diagnosis can be full of complicated emotions. Relief from having your symptoms validated. Fear of what your life will look like going forward. Sadness for the past version of yourself that was symptom-free. Receiving a diagnosis with no cure amplifies those emotions even more.

Mainly, I felt relief when I was diagnosed with endometriosis at fourteen years old. My pain had been questioned over and over again, and now I finally had an answer. While I knew I was in for a lifetime of chronic pain, I didn’t understand the gravity of the disease. Back then, endometriosis hadn’t been identified as a full-body disease yet (at least to my knowledge). I didn’t know the damage inflammation can do to your body, and I never expected all the additional medical conditions that would arise because of it. If I could sit next to that version of myself now, here’s what I would tell her.

You’re not crazy, and your pain is real. Becoming a teenager is hard enough. Now add on mysterious chronic pain and a medical system that’s actively working against you (but you don’t know that yet). I saw seven or eight different specialists trying to get a diagnosis for my chronic, excruciating pelvic pain. Each told me something similar. You’re being dramatic. You’re perfectly healthy. Teenagers can’t have endometriosis. You’re lying. The damage that does to your psyche is still something I’m dealing with to this day. Validation matters more than you realize, and believing in yourself is the first step to receiving that validation. Even when others questioned me, I knew something was wrong. My parents knew something was wrong. Everyone who knew me knew something was wrong because I was a shell of the person I used to be. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t stand to wear anything but sweats. I stopped doing my hair and makeup (something I always loved). I was mean and irritable because of the pain and had no way of getting relief. But I still had a sliver of hope that this wouldn’t be my life forever. And that hope motivated me to keep advocating for myself until I got the answer I needed.

However, relief doesn’t mean it’s over. Surgery or treatment isn’t always a cure. I knew surgery wouldn’t be in the case of endometriosis, but my pain was so much better afterward, and I was starting to feel like myself again. If I kept up with my treatment plan, I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong. No one told me how much a chronic inflammatory condition can wreak havoc on your body. Probably because it’s not widely known information. I’ll admit it’s hard for me to remember that time in my life because of the trauma. I have very few memories from my freshman year of high school, but I do remember the complicated emotions that came with not immediately feeling better. And it’s okay to feel all of those emotions.

Another thing I didn’t expect was the fatigue. Fatigue is more than just being tired, and that’s one of the many things that’s hard for others to understand. Yes, everyone gets tired. This is an exhausting world. But the weight of chronic fatigue is something else entirely. You can see last week’s blog post for more on that, but it’s certainly a debilitating weight added on top of other chronic symptoms and pain that makes everyday tasks feel nearly impossible. It definitely wasn’t something I was prepared for, but it seems to be very common in the chronic illness community.

This is your reminder to advocate early and advocate often. Don’t forget that doctors work for you, and it’s well within your right to push them, ask for tests or scans, and make sure they are looking into all possible options — especially with invisible symptoms or pain. Go to your appointments with a list of questions. Track your symptoms whenever possible so you have real data to bring to your doctor. You deserve proper and efficient care, and unfortunately that’s something women and people of color often have to fight for in this country. While the system is broken and needs to be restructured, use these tools to best equip yourself to get the medical attention you deserve.

Chronic illness will affect more than just your body. It will affect your relationships, mental health, identity, and self-confidence. Not always in bad ways. I personally think it’s made me more confident and has shaped my identity by allowing me to turn pain into purpose. It also affects your resilience. The more hurdles life throws at me, the more resilient I become, and I’m actually thankful to chronic illness for that. Since chronic illness deeply affects your relationships, your community and chosen family matter so much. Assemble a support system you know has your back no matter what. People who understand you have limitations and know that doesn’t mean you love them any less. It just means sometimes listening to your body has to come first. Those who truly love you will understand that.

I’ve had my fair share of comorbidities over the years, from heart arrhythmias to bladder issues to sleep issues to neurological issues. While endometriosis is probably the root cause of all of these, I think I’ve only survived them up to this point because I was diagnosed so young and learned how to live with chronic illness and pain (for better or worse). I definitely get upset and angry at my body more often than I’d like. I mean, I’ve asked for a new heart for my last several Christmases and birthdays. It’s not fair to have to live like this, but it’s the card I’ve been dealt for whatever reason. It’s valid to be upset. But I like to turn that anger into power and use it to propel my life forward in spite of my illnesses. I continue to go after my dreams because I’m allowed to dream even though I’m sick. Endometriosis is part of my story and something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life, but it’s not my whole story.

I recently had an old friend reach out because she and her doctors think she might have endometriosis. She asked me a bunch of questions, and I gave her the rundown of my experience. Then she asked if there was anything else she should know, which got me thinking — what did I wish I knew before I started down this life-changing path? Well, I told her everything above.

You are not broken.
You are not dramatic.
You are not weak.

You are learning how to live in a body that requires special care, and that makes you stronger in so many ways. You are dealing with things no one will ever see or fully understand. Give yourself grace.

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My Sleep Apnea Journey

I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been exhausted. No matter how many hours I sleep, I always wake up tired. I toss and turn all night. I’m miserable if I don’t get at least eight hours of sleep. I put a lot of pressure on sleeping in on the weekends because that’s my time to catch up on rest, and it makes me incredibly anxious when I can’t do that. I’m up using the bathroom three to five times a night. For a long time, I accepted that as my norm, even though it’s completely unsustainable. I told myself that’s just how my body works, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Chronic fatigue is a byproduct of chronic illness, and I think it’s something I’ll always experience. Having a disease that has no cure, my body is constantly fighting itself, and my nervous system is stuck in fight-or-flight.

Once I got my Oura ring in May, I realized there might be something else going on. It kept telling me my breathing regularity during sleep wasn’t good, and it also showed that I was getting very little deep sleep and not enough REM sleep, so my body was never really able to recover from the day before. I also frequently get alerts saying that my heart rate is too high at night for my body to go into recovery mode, despite having my heart rate suppressed by several medications. That comment was extremely eye-opening to me. I offhandedly mentioned it to my cardiology team, and they very matter-of-factly said I probably have sleep apnea because it’s very common in patients with atrial fibrillation like me. Of course, I had heard of sleep apnea, but it’s not something I ever considered because I’ve never been a snorer (at least, I didn’t used to be). They referred me to a sleep doctor, and I started to get very excited about the possibility of finally feeling rested. Around the same time, one of my close friends was diagnosed with pretty severe sleep apnea. We got to talking, and I realized I had many of the same symptoms.

Before I even saw the sleep doctor, I did an at-home sleep test. I was given a kit with equipment to strap around my body that monitored things like my breathing and heart rate to determine whether I was having apneas during the night. The equipment wasn’t as uncomfortable as I expected, but it definitely wasn’t an ideal way to sleep. A few days after I returned it, I got my results. They provide this actually pretty cool report that not only tells you how many apneas you had during the night, but also how long you slept on your back, side, or stomach, your heart rate and its spikes, and how many times you snored. The results diagnosed me with mild obstructive sleep apnea.

After my diagnosis, I met with a sleep doctor. What is nice about sleep apnea is that there’s a problem, but there’s also a clear and widely used treatment path. Or so I thought. Even though I only have mild sleep apnea, I have severe exhaustion, so CPAP therapy is the route my doctor wanted to take. This appointment was at the beginning of September, and I was so excited thinking I could have a CPAP machine within a few days and finally start getting some sleep. That excitement didn’t last long. My doctor changed her tune pretty quickly when she realized I have atrial fibrillation.

Because of my atrial fibrillation, she said I had to spend the night in a sleep lab at the hospital so someone could manually titrate the CPAP and make sure any heart episodes wouldn’t interfere. Okay, that’s fine, I thought. Then she told me it would be months before I could get an appointment. That news made me really upset because I went into the appointment assuming I’d have a CPAP machine within the week.

After months of waiting, it was finally time for my night in the sleep lab during the first week of January. I was counting down the days until I got a call the day before New Year’s Eve, telling me my insurance had denied the visit and wanted me to do an at-home automatic CPAP titration instead. Apparently, no one had explained to them why that wasn’t possible for me, and my doctor was out for the holiday, so she couldn’t write an appeal in time. I had to give up my appointment. Why this only went through insurance four days before my appointment, during a holiday week, I’ll never know. I had already been waiting five months, and I was crushed. I was then told it would be another four months before I could get a new appointment.

It turned out I was able to get an appointment in February, and my doctor sent in an excellent appeal letter, which gave me some hope. But once again, the appeal was denied, and now I have to move forward with at-home automatic CPAP titration, not knowing if it will actually work with my body. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very glad I don’t have to spend a night in the hospital connected to a million wires, probably not getting much sleep. But this could have happened back in September.

In the months I’ve spent waiting for this in-lab CPAP titration, my symptoms have gotten so much worse. I experience terrible night sweats that even having the window open when it’s below zero outside can’t help. I start and end my day with splitting headaches, and sometimes I even wake up in the night with them. I’m more exhausted than ever. It’s affected my mental state, too. Sleep is always at the top of my mind. I’ve missed out on social gatherings. I feel extreme anxiety when I know I’m not getting enough sleep. I’m at the point of desperation for good sleep. When your body is constantly fighting itself, you need sleep to recover. I’m not getting that. I’m already miserable being in pain all day; I don’t need exhaustion on top of it.

Because of the strong connection between atrial fibrillation and sleep apnea, I can’t help but wonder what came first. It feels like a chicken-and-egg situation I’ll probably never have an answer to. Despite the long road it took to get here, I’m grateful to have access to the resources needed to treat this condition and, hopefully, improve my arrhythmias in the process.

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Grad School & Chronic Illness/Pain

As I enter the final days before starting my last semester of graduate school, I can’t help but reflect on all the obstacles I’ve faced over the past two years. By the time I graduate in May, I will have undergone three heart surgeries, made multiple trips to the ER, survived a pulmonary embolism, received a sleep apnea diagnosis, and worked full time, all while completing this one program. That was never the path I imagined for myself back in the fall of 2024 when I started. When I applied earlier that spring, I felt relatively normal. My arrhythmias hadn’t yet returned with the intensity that would later upend my life.

Going to graduate school while working full time and living with chronic illness is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I honestly don’t know how I’ve made it to this point. There have been countless tears and more moments than I’d like to admit where I wanted to quit, which is very unlike me. Last summer, I almost took a break because I couldn’t fathom having zero downtime to let my body heal. Instead, I reached out to my university’s disability center, advocated for myself, and asked for accommodations. That process wasn’t easy. Years of medical trauma had conditioned me to believe I wouldn’t be believed or taken seriously. But the gentleman I spoke with was incredibly supportive and provided more than enough accommodations to help me through my final semesters. I’m so glad I kept going because now I’m four, hopefully short, months away from my degree and never having to go to school again.

I often find myself daydreaming about what life will look like once I graduate. I will have had, and hopefully recovered from, my third heart surgery. I’ll hopefully have my sleep figured out. I’ll be able to move my body again and have the time and energy to cook nourishing meals for myself. I try not to cling to false hope, but after everything the past two years have put me through, that vision feels incredibly exciting.

The people around me are often baffled that I’ve made it this far. They tell me they would’ve given up a long time ago. While these heart conditions are relatively new for me, chronic illness and pain are not. I’ve spent the last decade learning how to live in a body that makes everyday life significantly harder. In high school, my parents rarely let me miss school because of pain because they didn’t want it to become a habit. At the time, I was furious. Now, I’m deeply grateful. That expectation instilled a resilience in me that I still carry today. That same intrinsic drive and ambition led me to graduate high school with distinction, college summa cum laude and top of my major, and now graduate school with a 4.0 GPA. I don’t share that to brag, but because I’m proud of myself for the millions of moments I had to overcome to get here.

From the outside, it probably looks like school comes easily to me. People see someone who doesn’t procrastinate and seems to stay on top of everything. What they don’t see is how much effort it takes just to complete a single assignment. I don’t procrastinate because I can’t afford to. I don’t know if tomorrow I’ll be bedridden or unable to function, so when I feel well enough, I work ahead, sometimes weeks in advance. I live my life one day at a time. Living in pain is not something anyone should have to endure. It destroys relationships, ambitions, and self-confidence. It has made me doubt myself more times than I can count. It makes even the simplest tasks feel impossible, and that’s not an exaggeration. But I refuse to let it win.

I’m not here to say that pain is mind over matter, because it’s not, and that narrative is deeply invalidating to those of us who live with chronic pain. What I am here to say is that we can do hard things despite our pain, and we deserve recognition for that. School is already hard enough without carrying a body that actively works against you. I think those of us with chronic illness develop an extra layer of ambition because without it, it would be far too easy to stay in bed forever, even though that rest is oftentimes necessary. It isn’t fair, and that reality still makes me angry. But this is the only life I get, and I refuse to let pain I didn’t choose or cause be the thing that stops me from becoming who I know I’m capable of being.

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Fear & The Psychological Symptoms Surrounding Chronic Illness

Have you ever gone to bed not knowing if you’d wake up in the morning? I have. Many times. That’s the reality of living with heart problems. It’s a terrifying existence that forces you to confront what actually matters in life.

There’s an interesting paradox to it all. Having these near-death experiences has pushed me to try to really live, to spend time with the people I love, and to try to live like a normal twenty-something. But doing exactly that is often what puts me into those terrifying episodes in the first place of my heart racing to 215+ beats per minute. So how do you live life to the fullest when a ticking time bomb follows you every step of the way?

We talk about heart conditions, and chronic illness more broadly, as if they are only about physical symptoms. And while those symptoms can be, and are, debilitating, what is discussed even less, which says a lot considering how under-discussed the physical side already is, are the psychological challenges that come with living in a body that feels unsafe.

With endometriosis, the psychological toll has mostly come from not being believed by medical professionals, feeling misunderstood by the people around me, and trying to come to terms with having a lifelong painful disease with no cure. These are things I’m still working through more than ten years after my diagnosis, and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully move past the medical trauma I experienced while trying to get answers. But the psychological challenges I face with my heart conditions are different, because I’ve never feared for my life due to my endometriosis.

Being in your early twenties and having to make every decision based on how your heart might react is exhausting. I can’t eat sugar or drink alcohol too close to bedtime or I’ll be up all night with a racing heart. I have to ask others to replace my water jug at work because I’m not supposed to lift heavy things. I walk slowly up hills and stairs to avoid triggering an arrhythmia. I can’t attend work events if I won’t have a seat. I do everything I can to get a seat on the train so I don’t pass out during my commute. The stress of that alone gets my heart racing in the mornings.

I wake up in the middle of the night thinking there’s an earthquake, only to realize it’s my own heart beating so fast that it’s shaking the entire bed. I go to sleep not knowing if I’ll wake up in the morning. That fear doesn’t get easier. If anything, it follows me into other parts of my body.

After two back-to-back heart surgeries and years of living in constant fear, I developed neurological chest pain called intercostal neuralgia. It is a condition involving the nerves between the ribs and causes excruciating chest pain. After my second heart surgery last February, I underwent every test imaginable and no cardiovascular cause was found. Instead, the conclusion was that this pain is a result of the ongoing trauma my body has endured. My neurologist believes it will subside once I recover from my upcoming third surgery, one that is meant to finally put my atrial fibrillation at bay and allow me to move forward from the trauma my heart conditions have caused over the past few years.

Medical conditions do not stop at textbook symptoms. They can leave lasting psychological scars. I wish I had advice to share on how to manage that part of it, but the truth is I’m still figuring it out myself and probably will be for some time, until I can start feeling safe in my own body again.

I know my loved ones are scared for me. I try to be strong for them, but I’m scared too. Not all the time, because this has become my reality, but often enough, especially when I’m alone with my thoughts. That’s why I try to keep my brain busy.

Still, with my third and hopefully final heart surgery scheduled for the coming months, I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I won’t let myself fully celebrate just yet. I thought this would all be over back in November 2024. But this time feels different. And for now, that hope is enough.

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Feeling Invisible

Having an invisible illness, or multiple in my case, is a uniquely lonely experience. No matter how hard others try to understand, no matter how much time they spend with you, they’ll never truly get it unless they’ve lived it themselves. And that’s not their fault. I’m incredibly lucky to have some of the most supportive friends and family, even though they don’t fully understand what I go through every day. Honestly, I’m glad they don’t. I’m glad they don’t suffer the way I do. I wouldn’t wish any of this on my worst enemy. But that doesn’t make it any less lonely.

On top of feeling invisible, I often feel misunderstood. It’s so hard to explain what I experience in my body every single day. Feeling exhausted after doing nothing. Being in extreme pain but still having to show up and move forward. Carrying the guilt of not being able to participate in life the way I want to. Crying on vacation because my body hurts so badly, while seeming ungrateful even though I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Skipping breakfast with friends on weekend mornings because I need to sleep as long as possible to make up for another night of restlessness. Begging for accommodations at school while fearing judgment or denial because I look “fine” and put together on the outside. Going home early when all I want to do is stay. Spending hours driving across states for doctor’s appointments week after week. Living with the constant fear that my heart could give out at any second, or that my endometriosis is growing back with a vengeance.

Because others don’t understand my lived experience, it’s hard for them to grasp that this is simply my life. So sometimes, they forget. I almost never show it outwardly. They invite me to hike mountains or run 5Ks as if that’s something my body can do. I wish it was. But that’s not my reality right now.

The person I am today has been shaped by living with invisible illness for the last ten years. I don’t care what others think of me because I’m too focused on staying alive. I have a lot of confidence, because if I can survive ten years of feeling miserable in my own body, I can survive just about anything. Sometimes I can be blunt. Sometimes I forget others’ feelings. After being worn down by illness for so long, I’ve lost a lot of my sensitivity, and I’m still learning how to balance that.

My friends sometimes give me a hard time because I don’t love meeting new people or letting others get close to me, especially as I’ve gotten older. What they don’t see is how exhausting it is to explain my limitations over and over again. It’s awkward. It’s invasive. And yet, it’s often necessary just to justify why I do the things I do. My energy is extremely limited, and I want to spend what little I have loving on my inner circle, the people who have been through it with me. The ones who have tried, in their own ways, to understand.

Even if my loved ones don’t fully understand what I’m going through, they still find ways to show me they care, and I appreciate it more than they know. Seeking out the only chair in the bar and giving it to me. Checking in when I go quiet. Letting me cry and vent my frustrations (thanks, Mom). Suggesting something low-key instead of a night at the club. Making sure I’ve made it home safely. Validating my feelings around chronic illness. Sending flowers or my favorite food after surgery. Showing a genuine, consistent interest in my well-being. I am so deeply thankful.

All of this is why I created this community ten years ago and why I continue to lean on it for support. I know others living with invisible illness feel this same mix of loneliness, gratitude, exhaustion, and resilience. And while I hate that any of us have to experience this life, there is comfort in knowing I’m not alone. The worst club with the best members, as we like to say. In the end, this space exists to remind us that even when our pain goes unseen, our stories still matter, and we don’t have to carry them by ourselves.

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I’m Excited for Heart Surgery (Here’s Why)

My biggest goal going into 2026 is to have my third heart surgery for my arrhythmias, this time for atrial fibrillation, and finally say goodbye to my cardiovascular issues for good. Of course, that’s easier said than done. This surgery doesn’t come with a 100% success rate. But when I picture my ideal life this year, that’s what I see.

Being excited for surgery sounds weird, right? It’s not something anyone should want to experience. It’s similar to being excited about a new diagnosis. People with chronic illness and chronic pain understand this instinctively, but it can be hard for the outside world to wrap their heads around. I’m not excited about heart surgery itself. I’m excited about the life it could give me afterward.

A life with more energy and less pain.
A life where I can walk up the stairs without feeling like I’m going to die.
A life where I can cook and clean without feeling like I might faint.
A life where my bedroom doesn’t look like a pharmacy just so I can stay alive.
A life where I can do normal twenty-something things, have fun with my friends, and not constantly question how every single decision will affect my heart.

That’s what I’m excited about.

So when I went to see my cardiologist earlier this week, I walked in with that life in mind and I wasn’t willing to accept anything less. Technically, my medications are “working,” and I could probably go without surgery for a while longer. I put working in quotes because while they lower my heart rate and keep my arrhythmias at bay, they also leave me exhausted, lethargic, and feeling nothing like myself.

I don’t want to live in constant fear that missing a dose could send me into heart failure. I don’t want half my bag to be filled with medication when I travel, leaving no room to bring home gifts for the people I love. This is not the life a twenty-something should be living.

Unlike my endometriosis, which I will carry with me for the rest of my life, atrial fibrillation can be curable. When you already live with a lifelong disease that has no cure, you understand just how much of a privilege it is to have a condition that might be fixable.

At the same time, it’s hard to fully let myself feel excited. I thought my heart issues were going to be cured back in November 2024 after my first surgery. So yes, I’m really hoping third time’s the charm.

I’ve had a diagnosed chronic illness for ten years, and chronic pain for years before that. That’s half my life. I don’t remember what it’s like to live without illness constantly looming in the background. Because of that, it’s easy to feel jaded and discouraged when new medical issues show up. And don’t get me wrong, I do feel discouraged. I get angry at my body all the time. That’s normal, and that’s okay.

But I don’t like to stay in that headspace for too long, because it’s not helpful. My body isn’t trying to hurt me. It’s fighting against itself because it’s trying to protect me. Trying to be positive doesn’t magically erase my symptoms or make them any easier to live with, but it’s something I’ve learned helps me survive the mental battle that comes with chronic illness.

Having a medical condition that might actually be curable allows me to see a light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve never been able to see with endometriosis. And that feeling? That hope? It’s really nice. I’m going to hold onto it for as long as I can.

I’m sure there will be a million obstacles between now and my heart surgery at the end of March, because that’s just how our lovely medical system works. But I’m doing my best to stay positive and keep picturing that dream life waiting for me on the other side.

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Journaling & 2026 Health Goals

Journaling used to scare me. I never wanted to be left alone with my thoughts, because that’s when the pain would creep in and take over. I still don’t love being alone with my thoughts, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that journaling can be a healthy and productive way to get to know yourself and to start writing the future you want into existence.

Now that I’m entering my twenty-fifth year, and my brain is finally finishing up its development, I can actually picture a future for myself. That’s something I wasn’t able to do before. This shift, along with a new sense of optimism, has led me to create goals for myself for pretty much the first time ever.

Most of those goals are health-related, as I continue working to address my heart conditions, chest pain, and ultimately get my quality of life back. I’m sharing them here as a form of accountability, but also in the hope that they might offer some motivation to others in a similar place.

Living with chronic illness and pain for nearly half my life has taught me that my body has limits, and that things don’t always go the way I plan. That’s made goal-setting especially difficult for me. But this year, I want to use journaling as a way to manifest the future I want for myself, starting with setting attainable goals and giving myself grace as I work toward them.

You’ll notice there isn’t anything too extreme on this list, but these are all things I’ve wanted for myself for years. And for the first time, the puzzle pieces are finally coming together in a way that makes me believe they’re actually possible this year.

Without further ado, here are my 2026 health goals:

1. Have my night in the sleep lab, get my CPAP machine to treat my sleep apnea, and get my sleep issues figured out once and for all.
2. Have my third catheter ablation surgery for my atrial fibrillation heart arrhythmia, and take the time to fully heal from that surgery,
3. Once that is completed, I want to get off all the medications I'm on for my heart. They make me lethargic and have no energy, and that's a feeling I don't want to experience anymore.
4. Once my sleep is figured out and I'm recovered from my surgery, I want to get back to moving my body and working out to the best of my ability. Nothing too crazy, but certainly a step up from doing nothing. 
5. Meet with a clinical dietitian who specializes in an anti-inflammatory diet and start consistently cooking healthy meals for myself.
6. Be better about saying no when I don't want to do something.
7. Don't feel guilty for listening to my body.
8. Only put work into relationships that fulfill me. I only have so much energy to give.
9. Heel stretches daily for my plantar fasciitis.

Some non-health-related goals:

1. Finish grad school and get my master's degree! 
2. Read at least 70 books.
3. Start writing on my blog again regularly! 
4. Go to Ireland.
5. No buying clothes or shoes unless absolutely necessary. 
6. Pay off most of my student loans. 

I got a cute new journal to start the year and filled it with all my goals. Years ago, some friends and I attended a talk in college where the speaker, a successful businesswoman, talked about the power of writing things down if you want them to come true. That idea has stuck with me ever since.

I’ve seen it work for the smaller things in my life, but I’ve always wondered about the bigger ones. So this year, I’m really testing that theory. I’m writing down everything I want, without overthinking it. I even started a list of five-year goals that I plan to keep adding to as they grow and change.

Whether it all comes to fruition or not, I know I’m doing everything I can to make 2026 the year I get my quality of life back. And if you’re feeling stuck or hopeful or somewhere in between, I encourage you to join me in journaling and creating the best future we can for ourselves.

Me and my trusty journal!

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It's Been a Hard Month...

Well, Endometriosis Awareness Month hasn't been treating me very kindly. I feel like whenever I start to get better, something else happens. I want to give a health update, but I want to preface this by saying that I'm not looking for pity in any way. I just want to share the reality of living with a chronic illness and all the complications that come with it. 

My month began with my bladder beginning to leak, and experiencing urinary urgency which are two things I have never experienced before. It's a really crazy feeling when you have no control over what your body does. It's honestly kind of scary at the same time because you never know what to expect. It made me feel like I was a little kid who hasn't been potty trained yet. I am happy to report that those instances have gotten better recently which is a big relief. They still happen, just not as often. Along with this, I am experiencing bladder pain and some endometriosis pain as well. This is weird because I thought I solved the problem of bladder pain through pelvic floor physical therapy, but maybe I just need to try some different exercises. 

The second issue I've been dealing with this month has been happening on and off for a while and I've talked about it on my Instagram account a little bit. I keep experiencing intense nausea and some upper abdominal pain after everything I eat. It tends to be worse while I'm at school because let's be honest, this food is just not the best, to put it nicely. It got to the point earlier this week that I was afraid to leave my room in fear that I would get sick. I decided enough was enough and went to urgent care this past Tuesday to hopefully get the problem solved. From the moment I walked in, I felt dismissed by everyone working there. This is unfortunately a feeling that I, and many other young women, feel when trying to advocate for ourselves in a medical setting and I am so sick of it. I explained my symptoms and both the nurse and doctor made me feel bad for not coming in sooner. I tried to explain to them that I have a chronic illness, so these symptoms were not necessarily alarming to me as I have experienced much worse. The symptoms were more of an annoyance at this point. They didn't really understand this. I wanted to tell them if I went to the doctor every time I had an issue, I would spend my whole life there. 

The doctor said she thinks I have gastritis and began treating me for that. I also had blood work done and an x-ray taken. The blood work thankfully came back fine, but the x-ray showed that I was pretty constipated. I had a feeling that this would be the case as I've been struggling with bowel movements for a while. However, this could offer an explanation for my bladder leakage and urinary urgency as well. When one has a full bowel, it pushes up against their bladder which can cause more frequent urination, urgency, and leaking. I'm hoping that this is the case for me and I that don't have any other issues with my bladder. The doctor prescribed me a medication to help with gastritis that's hopefully supposed to calm down the acid in my stomach. Although, last night, I noticed I was developing a rash on my legs and feet. I looked up the side effects of the new medication and of course, a rash was one of them. I'm hoping it goes away on its own soon, but if not I'll have to call the doctor and let her know. 

Along with that medication, she had me buy magnesium citrate at the store which is a drink that clears you all out when you're constipated. I drank it the next day and immediately started to feel so nauseous. I tried to focus on my work for my internship, but I couldn't. Then, before I knew it, I was getting sick into my trashcan. I guess the medicine worked for the wrong end... I felt much better afterward though! The magnesium citrate did mostly help to do what it was supposed to, but I think I'm still constipated because I threw most of it up. I take MiraLax and fiber gummies every day, but it is rare I find relief from that, so all suggestions are welcome. 

The third part of my week from hell has to do with some heart problems I've been having. Starting on Monday, my heart started beating pretty irregularly. I have never experienced this before, so it freaked me out a little bit, but I wasn't too concerned yet. However, on Tuesday, my heart started racing up to 200+ beats per minute. This would last about 30 to 60 seconds at a time, then stop for a minute before starting up again. When it happens, it completely knocks the air out of me so it is difficult to breathe. It also makes my chest and face tighten, turn red, and start to sweat. Now I was/am really scared. Many people might chalk it up to stress, but I don't feel mentally/emotionally stressed or anxious at all. However, maybe my body is under physical stress when having all these medical issues on top of each other so my heart is working overtime. I'm really hoping it's something simple like that and nothing worse. This is still happening, so I have a doctor's appointment with my primary care doctor on Tuesday, so hopefully, nothing bad happens before then. I had mentioned this happening to the urgent care nurse earlier this week, and she very rudely told me that is something they can't help with and I need to be seeing a cardiologist. 

Needless to say, it has been a hard week and month in general. My body is falling apart all over the place and I feel so out of control because I can't do much to help it. Please send any prayers and good thoughts my way so that I can get these issues figured out soon and I can enjoy the rest of my semester. I hope you are all doing well. It's a scary world out there, so please stay safe and know that I am sending prayers/good thoughts your way as well! 

Looking a lot better here than I feel on the inside...😂

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MY SIX YEAR ENDOVERSARY

 I say this every year, but I can't believe today marks six years since I was diagnosed with endometriosis! It feels like yesterday, but a lifetime ago at the same time. I was getting a little teary-eyed this morning thinking about how far I've come during these last six years. I went from being in debilitating pain and not being able to get out of bed as a 14-year-old freshman in high school to a 20-year-old college junior who is chasing her dreams. My 14-year-old self pre-diagnosis didn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I thought that I would always be in intense pain because no medical professional would believe my pain. Fast forward to the present day, I am still singing, have a crazy busy schedule with all my clubs and activities, and I'm doing an internship full-time that I love. I have found a way to manage my pain the best I can through a combination of medication and pelvic floor physical therapy. A lot of people in the chronic illness world like to push either just medication or just holistic forms of treatment, but I believe every single body is different. It's often a combination of the two that work together to help people. 

For years I was only using medication to manage my pain which has been so helpful, but re-starting pelvic floor physical therapy has made all the difference for me. I would say this past year has been the best for me pain-wise. My bad days are far less frequent and I have become very good at pinpointing what is causing my pain and making the proper changes to fix it. Each year I try to learn more and more about my body and why it works the way it does. Able-bodied people don't have to worry about every piece of food they put in their body, every step they take so they don't throw their body out of alignment, or worry about having to cancel plans because they're in so much pain. And yes, that is very frustrating at points, but I'm willing to do all those things to help my body be the best it can be. 

I wanted to share a little update on my health recently. I've been a little frustrated because I have been dealing with incontinence over the last week or so which is something I've never experienced before. It's hard having no control over what your body does, but I have faith that this is just a phase and my body will get back to its normal soon. Other than that, my endo pain hasn't been around as much which is so nice. I'm still dealing with my injured tailbone, but the pain is so much better than it was before. I even met a new friend with endometriosis here at school and we've started talking! It's so nice to have someone who knows exactly what I'm going through in my everyday life!

I'm so proud of myself and what my body has been able to do for me over the last six years. There are many times that I get angry at my body because I feel like it's failing me, but I try to remind myself that it is first and foremost my home, it has stuck with me for twenty years, and it's not going anywhere any time soon. Thank you for coming on this journey with me over the last six years and I look forward to sharing more of my journey with you as time goes on! 

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End of Semester Update!

 I'm back everyone and I apologize for my absence this past semester! I think it has been a crazy time for most people, especially those who are back to school and work after being at home for so long. Since my college required COVID vaccines, masks indoors, and weekly tests, we were able to get mostly back to normal, which means I was very busy. I was taking some hard classes, I was a student leader in four different groups, and I continued my summer internship into the fall. I'm not complaining though, because like I've said before, I actually really enjoy being busy because it takes my mind off of my endometriosis and other health problems. Now that COVID is ramping up again with the new variant, I'm very happy to be safe at home, fully vaccinated, and boosted. 

A lot of exciting things happened for me this semester! The most exciting is that I was accepted into an internship program at my school that is going to allow me to intern full-time in Boston during the Spring semester for school credit rather than taking classes. I always wanted to do this internship program in Washington D.C. as I am a political science major, but when it came time to apply, I realized that I haven't had a normal year of college yet and I don't want to leave campus for a whole semester. The Boston program allows me to live on campus and still participate in all my extracurricular activities while getting to commute into Boston during the day and get that real-world experience. After I was accepted into that program, I had to apply for internships. This process takes a lot of time from searching to applying to interviewing. I was lucky enough to get a few offers and I accepted an internship that I'm super excited about and I think is going to give me the clarity I need moving forward with my career. 

I did work full-time during the summer, but that work was mostly remote. Commuting into a big city every day is going to be a whole new experience and I will definitely share my experience here will all of you. I am definitely nervous about how this internship is going to affect my endometriosis pain. Anxious nerves and stress often cause flare-ups of my pain. Over the summer if that happened, I could just take a quick break to lay in my bed, however, I won't be able to do that this time around. Although don't get me wrong, I am very happy and grateful that this experience will be in-person after experiencing the pandemic for almost two years. I'm sure a lot of you reading this have full-time and in-person jobs, so I'm very curious, how do you handle your pain? 

I have been lucky this semester that my endometriosis pain has been mostly manageable! I had a few flare-ups here and there, but they didn't last very long. The combination of medication and pelvic floor physical therapy has really worked for me and I'm so thankful! A lot of chronically ill people are strong proponents of either full-on western medicine or other less common routes. I think it's different for every person because each body is different, but I've experienced the best results when both methods are combined. What works the best for you? What I've still been struggling the most with is my tailbone pain. It's been about 1.5 years since it's started, but I'm happy to report it is getting better with the help of pelvic floor physical therapy! Hopefully being able to go to PT consistently over the break will be the push my tailbone needs to fully heal. 

I feel like I've been rambling a lot, so I'm going to end this post here. Now that I'm going to be on winter break for about a month, I'm going to be posting on here more and I've been posting on my Instagram pretty frequently (@endoisnottheendblog). I hope you all are happy and healthy and are enjoying the holiday season with loved ones!

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Back to School!

Some of you may have noticed that I took a month off from posting and that’s because the beginning of school has been crazy. The day I moved into school, I barely had any time to unpack because I had to go right to rehearsal for the choir I’m in and that pretty much lasted the rest of the day and the rest of the weekend. Does anyone else get super stressed when all their stuff is in boxes or not in its correct place? Well, I do and that’s what I was feeling like for several days before I had the chance to finally finish unpacking and decorating. Then it was time for classes to start. The good news is that I love all my classes! All my classes are within my major and minor, so I’m never bored and always learning something new. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I LOVE learning, it’s probably one of my favorite things which is why I love college so much; I get to learn about topics I’m actually interested in, unlike most of my classes high school. 

I mentioned in my previous post that I took on a lot this semester and I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage everything. Well, it’s been going pretty well so far! It was kind of a pain getting my schedule all worked out so I could be at every club meeting or rehearsal, but thankfully, I did it and this week everything was finalized. Last weekend, I had the honor of singing the National Anthem at the home opener football game at my college and it went so well! I’ve been singing the National Anthem at events ever since middle school, but I’ve never sung it for my college before, so I was a little nervous. But the President of my college said it was amazing (go me!!). 

I was able to get a single room this semester because of my medical accommodations and needing the privacy to do my pelvic floor physical therapy tasks, and that has been working out very well. While I miss having a roommate, I know I made the best decision for my health and that my body is definitely going to thank me for that this semester. With that said, I haven’t had any big flare-ups yet which I’m very happy about. Stress is one of my biggest triggers, so when I feel like I’m about to get overly stressed, I try to take a minute and relax so I don’t cause any other issues for myself. 

I was finally getting into the swing of things this week, then I got a cold. I was actually pretty scared at first that it was COVID, but I was tested and it's not thankfully. It's so weird how "normal" sickness hasn't really been a thing since the pandemic started because of masks and physical distancing, but as the world opens back up, I guess so does our susceptibility to other illnesses. Like this cold, you are always going to have things that interrupt your plans, but try to find the good in everything. Luckily this cold hit me over the weekend, so I'm going to rest up so I won't have to miss any classes next week.

If you are going back to school right now, I know it can be a very stressful time. My biggest piece of advice is to learn your triggers so you can try to avoid setting them off. Obviously, it’s not going to be perfect, but at least you are trying to do what’s best for your body. Remember, you can do this and endo is not the end!  

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WHAT IS CUPPING THERAPY?

 

Many of you have heard me talk about cupping therapy (or cupping) here and on my Instagram, but I've learned that most people don't know what it is. I was first introduced to cupping when Michael Phelps made it popular by putting his circular bruises on display at the Olympics. 

Cupping is a form of alternative medicine that has become popular over the last few years. I started using this method in pelvic floor physical therapy over the winter to help with inflammation and pain management in my back and tailbone. Still, people use it for many different reasons. So you can get a better understanding of cupping, and why it's helpful, I'm going to bring you through the basics.

WHAT IS CUPPING THERAPY?

Cupping therapy is an ancient form of alternative medicine that originated in China.

HOW DOES CUPPING WORK?

A therapist will put special cups on specified spots and create a suction to the skin and leave them there for however long they deem necessary. 

WHY DO PEOPLE USE CUPPING THERAPY?

There are many different reasons why people use cupping therapy, including:

• Pain
• Inflammation
• Blood flow
• Relaxation and well-being
• Muscle tightness

It has been compared to a deep tissue massage.

DOES IT HURT?

I decided to include this question because looking at pictures of cupping can be pretty offputting, so I wanted to share my experience. There are many different suction levels, so you must communicate with your therapist about what is too much, too little, and just right suction for you. However, if you are really trying to get the full effects of the cups, you can put them on a little tighter, and it will hurt at first, but after 30-60 seconds, the pain will go away. I haven't gotten up to the level of bruising you see on Michael Phelps; in fact, I've only ever had bruising one time because everybody is different and can only tolerate so much. But the goal is to add a little more suction each time so you can make progress.

WHAT DOES RESEARCH SHOW?

While there needs to be more and better research done on cupping, it has been known to help those with:

• Blood disorders 
• Rheumatic diseases
• Fertility
• Skin problems 
• High blood pressure
• Migraines
• Anxiety and depression
• Bronchial congestion
• Varicose veins 
• Overall muscle relaxation

Cupping therapy definitely isn't for everybody, but if you are looking for another method of pain management, I certainly recommend it! I always leave my appointments feeling so relaxed and in a lot less pain. But remember to always drink a lot of water after because it's sucking a lot of toxins out of your body. 

Source: https://www.webmd.com/balance/guide/cupping-therapy

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WHAT IS IBS?

Today I'm going to spread some light on another disease that often comes hand-in-hand with endometriosis. Patients are often misdiagnosed with irritable bowel syndrome, or IBS, when they actually have endometriosis because they have similar symptoms. However, this is another factor that contributes to the prolonging of finally getting an endometriosis diagnosis. So, what is IBS?

Definition:

"Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) is a common disorder that affects the large intestine. Signs and symptoms include cramping, abdominal pain, bloating, gas, and diarrhea or constipation, or both. IBS is a chronic condition that you'll need to manage long-term."

Symptoms:

• Abdominal pain
• Cramping 
• Bloating
• Increased gas
• Changes in appearance to bowel movement
• Changes in how often one has a bowel movement 
• Weight loss diarrhea

Cause:

• Muscle contractions in the intestine 
• Abnormalities to the nerves that help with digestion 
• Severe infection
• Early life stress
• Changes in gut microbes 

Triggers:

• Certain foods such as dairy products 
• Stress

Risk Factors:

• Young 
• Female
• Family history with IBS
• Have anxiety, depression, or other mental health-related problems

Cure:

IBS is a chronic condition that cannot be cured, very similar to endo. 

Treatments:

• Diet changes 
• Medications
• Therapies 

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Source: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/irritable-bowel-syndrome/symptoms-causes/syc-20360016 

How To Be a Good Advocate on Social Media (And Make Meaningful Connections to Your Audience)

 If there is one thing the world always needs more of, it's advocates. No matter the issue, meaningful work, and change simply don't get done without advocates and people pushing for that change to happen. About five years ago, with the persuasion of my family, I started this blog. It is the best thing that could have ever come out of being diagnosed with endometriosis because now I get to share my experience and knowledge with all of you! Some of you may want to do the same thing, but don't know how to start, which is why today I'm sharing tips on how to be a good advocate on social media while also making meaningful connections with your audience! 

1. Post either daily or as much as possible: The algorithms on social media are weird, but the more you post, the more it will spread your posts to a wider audience.
2. Use relevant hashtags: Hashtags are a great way to spread your posts to a wider audience that maybe wouldn't have seen it otherwise since they don't follow you. 
3. Follow other accounts that post similar things as you: If you follow other similar accounts, you can help grow both audiences and reach more people with your advocacy.
4. Share what you believe: As someone with a chronic illness trying to spread awareness about it, I have always found it important to share my own truth and lived experience. A lot of social media is fake and many people only share the good moments, but I like to show the good, the bad, and everything in between because there is a huge spectrum when living with a chronic illness. 
5. Use all forms of social media to spread your message: I use Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and this blog to spread my message. I find that this way I can reach different demographics and age groups. Along with this, use all the media forms within each app. For example, on Instagram, I do regular posts, stories, reels, and videos to get my voice out there. 
6. Show your personality through your posts: You don't want your audience to find the information you're sharing to be boring, so put your own voice into it and make it interesting! 
7. Similar to #6, use plain language: You want to get information out to people in an accessible way. Most people aren't going to want to read something that's super sciency and hard to understand. 
8. BE YOURSELF: You will get people hooked on your posts by being yourself, so don't be afraid to do so!

If you've been thinking about starting a blog or social media account for something you're passionate about, this is your sign!! These tips don't just apply to chronic illness and health-related topics, you can use them for anything you are passionate about. Social media is such a great place to be able to share what you believe with a large number of people, and who knows, maybe you'll even meet new friends that way because I know I have! 

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