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.

I haven't written in a couple of weeks—not because I ran out of things to say, but because somewhere in the quiet, a much older thought crept back in: that my voice didn't matter. Early on as a dancer, I was taught that taking up less space was the price of being allowed in the room. But real patience looks like choosing the small things, sitting with the old feelings, and coming back around to the truth: I do matter. You have to see your whole self—all of it. Not the edited version.