THIRTEEN YEARS OF RESILIENCE

April 13th, 2012: A Diagnosis, A Wake-Up Call, and a Reality I Live with Every Day

I almost didn’t realize what today marked—April 13th. It’s been thirteen years since my diagnosis. Thirteen years since I became a young mother navigating a new world of medical terms, surgeries, and the unknown, all while holding my 3-month-old baby in my arms.

Since that day, I’ve had 7 brain surgeries, countless flare-ups, and more quiet battles than I can even begin to count. And while there’s a strong chance there will be more surgeries down the road, I’ve learned to keep showing up for myself—and for my son.

In those 13 years, I’ve learned a lot about strength, patience, and what it means to truly persevere. But more than anything, I’ve learned that resilience isn’t just surviving—it’s choosing to keep going, especially when others don’t understand your fight.

I’ve heard hurtful comments. I’ve been misunderstood. People have questioned my abilities, my intelligence, and my right to be where I am. But what they don’t know is that I graduated Top 10% of my class, Summa Cum Laude, and I did it while living with significant brain damage.

Yes, brain damage. And yet, I still rose.

Because brain damage doesn’t take away your drive, your heart, or your potential—it just adds a few more hurdles to the race.

There were moments I was angry. Moments I wanted to quit. Moments I felt unseen. But I kept going.

Not to prove others wrong—but to prove to myself that I was still capable of building a life full of meaning, impact, and love.

If I could go back and hug that scared 18-year-old girl, I’d tell her: "It won’t be easy. There will be pain. But you will find your strength, and you will find your voice. And one day, you’ll use both to help others who feel like they’re drowning."

To anyone out there dealing with chronic illness, invisible disabilities, or just carrying pain no one else can see—I see you. Keep pushing. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You are not defined by the comments, the stares, or the labels. You are defined by your ability to rise—again and again.

So, here’s to 13 years of surviving, learning, growing, and advocating. Here’s to the people still fighting, quietly or loudly. And here’s to the belief that you’re not alone, even when the world feels isolating.

You are strong. You are worthy. And your story matters.

With love,

CT

To my son:

You were just a baby when all of this began, and you’ve grown up watching your mom fight battles no one could see. I hope you know that every step I took, I took for you. Your love has given me more strength than any medicine ever could. I may not have had a perfect start, but I’ve tried to show you what resilience looks like. And if you remember anything from my journey, let it be this:

You can rise from anything.

And I’ll always be in your corner, cheering you on—just like you’ve always been in mine. I love you so much, chicken butt!

#TBI #Hydrocephalus #BrainSurgery #ChiariMalformation #InvisibleDisabilities #StillHere #Strength #ShuntHappens