I wear my story
Today, I don’t just celebrate another year of life—I honor a journey that has forever changed me. May is not only my birth month, but also Brain Tumor Awareness Month. And this year, it means more than ever. Because now, this isn’t just a cause—it’s my reality, my story, and my testimony.
When I was first diagnosed with a brain tumor, I was stunned. I was a healthy, active mom of four, a teacher, someone who had never faced any serious health issues. And then, in what should have been a joyful moment—finding out I was pregnant with my fifth child—I was given life-changing news. A brain tumor. In an instant, joy turned to fear, and hope was overshadowed by pain and uncertainty.
The weeks and months that followed were some of the darkest of my life. I lost my hearing. My vision vanished for months. I was in constant pain. I developed blood clots in my brain. I lost my income, my independence, and it felt like everything I had worked for was slipping away. I asked God over and over, “Why me?” I felt abandoned, like everything and everyone I loved was being stripped away.
But in that darkness, something began to change. As I sat alone in silence, unable to see or hear the world around me, I slowly began to understand that God hadn’t forgotten me—He was working on me. This wasn’t punishment; it was preparation. A painful season, yes, but also one with purpose.
I began to thank God—even when I didn’t feel thankful. I thanked Him for the small things, for the overlooked blessings, for the strength to get through one more day. And slowly, my life began to shift. My health began to improve. My spirit grew stronger. And even in two years without work, my family never went without—we had food, shelter, light, and love.
I’m still standing. Changed, yes—but stronger. Wiser. Closer to God. I’ve learned who’s really in my corner and who to eliminate from my circle. I’ve learned the power of faith, the beauty of surrender, and the resilience of the human spirit.
So today, I don’t ask “Why me?” anymore. I thank God for choosing me. For trusting me with this testimony. For allowing me to be a voice in a community I never expected to be part of—but now hold so close to my heart.
Happy Birthday to me. And deep gratitude to the Brain Tumor Awareness community—you’ve given me strength, hope, and purpose. I wouldn’t change a thing. #braintumorawarness #fyp #fypシ #DIY #mystory
When I shared that I lost my income during my battle with a brain tumor, it wasn't just a fleeting detail; it was a devastating reality that shook my world to its core. Beyond the physical pain and the fear of the unknown, the sudden loss of my ability to earn and provide was a crushing blow to my independence and sense of self-worth. As a mom of four (soon to be five), a teacher, I was used to being the one in control, the provider. To suddenly face not just my own severe illness but also the financial instability that came with it felt like a double burden. The emotional toll was immense. I remember feeling a deep sense of shame and vulnerability. How would we pay the bills? How could I ask for help? It wasn't just about missing a paycheck; it was about watching my carefully built life, my routine, and my security crumble. I felt like I was failing my family, even though intellectually I knew it wasn't my fault. The worry about money added another layer of stress to an already overwhelming situation. But in those darkest moments, when I truly felt I had "lost my income" and so much more, I discovered unexpected avenues of strength and support. It wasn't easy, and it definitely wasn't glamorous. I had to swallow my pride and learn to accept help – from family, friends, and even strangers in the Brain Tumor Awareness community. We explored every resource available, from disability applications to local support groups that offered practical assistance. It's a humbling experience to suddenly depend on others, but it also opened my eyes to the incredible kindness that exists in the world. I remember seeing images of those powerful t-shirts – 'I Wear Gray For Mommy,' 'MOM Her Fight Is My Fight' – and realizing I wasn't alone in this particular struggle. The 'grey awareness ribbon' became more than just a symbol; it represented a collective resilience that extended to all aspects of life, including financial hardship. Knowing that other 'SURVIVOR' moms and families were navigating similar paths gave me courage. We might lose our income, but we don't lose our value or our fighting spirit. Even without a regular income, I found ways to contribute and maintain a sense of purpose. It was smaller things, like managing household tasks when I had the energy, or focusing on my spiritual growth. My family learned to live more simply, and we discovered that true richness wasn't in material possessions but in our connections and our faith. It taught me that my worth wasn't tied to my paycheck. For anyone out there facing a similar struggle, whether it's a health crisis, job loss, or any unexpected life event that impacts your income, please know you are not alone. It's okay to feel the pain, the fear, and the frustration. But also know that there is help, there is community, and there is a path forward. Don't be afraid to reach out. Talk to loved ones, explore financial aid options, connect with support groups. Your journey might change dramatically, but your resilience and ability to find new forms of strength will carry you through.
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