Rediscovering Myself Amid Loss and Resilience

Looking back over the past two years, I’ve lost so much of what I once thought defined me—my lucrative job, the work friends I believed were real, my freedom, my self-confidence, my body image, and so much more. Yet, alongside these losses, I’ve also made significant progress. I’ve gone from depending on a mobility scooter, to a walker, to just a cane. More importantly, I’ve discovered who my true friends and family are—the ones who stand by you in your darkest, scariest moments.

But I still ask myself: Have I really moved past needing those mobility aids, or am I just too vain to use them in public? I already feel self-conscious, especially after gaining 25 pounds, and I haven’t figured out how to lose it. I feel like a hamster stuck on a wheel—on good days, I push myself to walk and work out, only to be knocked down by a rough day right after. I’ve learned to recognize my limits with mobility and stay within them. I’ve also become skilled at knowing when my body is about to spasm or make involuntary movements, so I retreat home before anyone sees. I hide from the world in my little house on the hill, praying that from the outside, it looks like I’m thriving.

I find myself wondering: Where are the people to help get me out of the house? How do I move forward when the walls around me feel so high? Don’t get me wrong—my family’s support has been nothing short of incredible, and I’m endlessly grateful. But there’s a small part of me that expected more from my friends—more than just a lunch every few months. I thought they’d be there for the hard parts too.