HEATHER'S BLOG

Grief and hard times can feel incredibly lonely, like holding a sad little plate of emotional snacks at a party. But you are not alone. When everything else fails, I highly recommend crying in the shower—it’s free therapy with great water pressure. Read my personal permission slip on how to survive the heavy days without losing who you are.

Living with idiopathic cerebellar ataxia has taught me that I don’t have to wait for perfect answers or perfect days to take care of myself. I’ve learned to listen to my body and try gentle things that actually help — red light therapy, my vibration board, ubiquinol, NAD, and cycling three days a week. Some days these tools give me more energy. Other days they simply remind me that I’m still showing up for myself, even when progress feels slow. Staying positive doesn’t mean p

I already have other plans. I do what’s recommended, but I also keep doing what I know works for me. I’ve always been a capable, multi-tasking woman, and ataxia hasn’t changed that. This is how I’m choosing to meet my journey with strength, consistency, and self-trust.

Advocating for yourself when you have a disability is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to learn. Especially when your speech is slurred, your energy is gone, and you’re facing it mostly alone. I prepare lists of questions for every doctor’s appointment. I write scripts for important phone calls. I remind myself to be patient when speaking for others. Because the truth is — no one is coming to do it for you. Community is beautiful when you have it, but many of us walk t

Once there was a little girl who found herself in a very big business. She was only 8 years old in an industry that devours its own for breakfast. She learned very early how to smile through exhaustion, how to please everyone, and how to perform — both on camera and off. She played the “good girl.” She played the victim when it got her attention. She tied her worth to applause and approval. What most people didn’t see was the quiet cost it took on her heart and mind.

This morning at the kitchen sink, one thought stopped me cold: How and why did this happen to me? For years I put everyone else first — I was the strong one, the capable one, the “good wife” and “good mother.” I practiced self-sacrifice without even realizing it… even while my own body was falling apart. My ex chose self-preservation. Why didn’t I? I should have. My mom always said, “Just because the doorbell rings doesn’t mean you have to answer it.” I wish I had listened so

What if the tiniest victories could change everything? Living with cerebellar ataxia, I used to count only what I had lost. Then I started focusing on daily wins with ataxia — the quiet miracles that light up even the hardest days. Laughing after dropping something for the tenth time. Standing long enough to make tea. Choosing rest without guilt. These small ataxia wins became my daily medicine.

Living with ataxia means some days your balance is off and stress takes over. But waiting for someone to fix it is a total disaster. True freedom comes when you stop waiting and start moving. Read on to see how I shifted my mindset around chronic illness, learned to embrace the challenges, and unlocked a tool that helps me heal.

You know that saying, “No one is coming to save you”? I don’t know why, but as women, so many of us were taught that we needed saving. Softly, I remind myself that there is great power and acceptance in deciding once and for all that I can “save” myself. It may sound like a simple catchphrase, but it hits so much deeper than that.

The Power of Bold Choices One of my mentors, as a young adult, once shared a profound insight: making bold choices is essential. This wisdom resonates with me deeply, and I carry it into my daily life. Along with many different traits, I strive to make bold choices. Sometimes they work out, and sometimes they don’t.