HEATHER'S BLOG

There is a big fir tree I visit every day. I don’t walk to it—I simply look at it through my sunroof while sitting in my car. Living with cerebellar ataxia has taught me to slow down in ways I never expected. What once felt only like limitation has become an invitation to notice the small things and find joy in quiet, ordinary moments. Nature has become my greatest teacher, proving that joy is still available to us—we only have to pause long enough to receive it.

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.

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.