HEATHER'S BLOG

I've never been good at asking for help — I just did things myself. Here's what living with ataxia taught me about accepting it, and the quiet grace waiting on the other side of pride.

: I spent most of my life not really on speaking terms with myself. This is about friendship with yourself — and what it's like to finally, late in the day, come around to your own side.

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

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.

Embracing Change in My Journey My voice wasn’t just sound—it was my signature. That gritty, raspy tone carried me through every role, from the stage to Sisters to Beverly Hills, 90210. It was the spark in every conversation, the heart of every story I told. I was the ultimate Chatty Cathy, and I loved it. So when I learned that my voice—my essence—was being altered by a new symptom, my world tilted. Devastated doesn’t even cover it. It felt like losing a piece of my soul.

Ataxia affects coordination and balance, turning everyday tasks into daunting challenges. I still remember the first time the ground shifted beneath my feet at a family gathering. Living with this condition is an emotional rollercoaster, but celebrating small victories reminds me I am more than my diagnosis—we are defined by our resilience.

You don’t have to be in a boxing ring to be a great fighter. Living with a disability means everyday tasks take real determination—like doing laundry on my hands and knees or showering sitting down. These moments take quiet courage. Real strength isn't about moving fast; it’s about continuing to show up for yourself on your own terms.