The Story Behind Living with Latitude

What chronic illness took and how I’m learning to rebuild.

Who I was

As a child, a teenager, and a young adult, I was always exceedingly active. I climbed everything — yes, even as a young adult! If it was fast and went high, I was on it.

I was a tomboy growing up. I enjoyed wrestling, playing video games, and just being one of the “guys.” Basketball was my passion, but I also enjoyed track and softball. Eventually, I fell in love with volleyball.

Movement wasn’t something I did; it was part of who I was.

Outside of being physically active, I was independent, motivated, outgoing, and sociable. I wanted to try new things. Meet new people. Be spontaneous. Build something. Plan something. Do anything.

When my son was about five, his class made Mother’s Day projects. One of the questions was: “What does your mom do to relax?” His answer? “She doesn’t relax.” He was right. We were always doing something — outside, building forts, starting a Pinterest project. Rest wasn’t part of my vocabulary.

My Diagnosis (the short version)

Over the past 5 years, I’ve had a variety of severe symptoms. The extent of testing and procedures I’ve had is incredible. At one point, among all the IVs, blood tests, and infusions that I required, my arms were so severely bruised, and my veins were rejecting the needles.

I have been to multiple specialties, including neurology, cardiology, endocrinology, oncology, pain medicine, and more. Waiting rooms became part of my routine.

Of course, this did not include all the appointments with my primary care physician, urgent care and emergency room visits, or hospital stays. Fast forward to 2026, and here are the chronic illnesses that have devastatingly changed my life.

• 2021-2022: Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue, and Occipital Neuralgia

• 2022–2023: Chronic Migraines and Myofascial Pain Syndrome

• 2023–2024: POTS Syndrome

• 2025: Adrenal Insufficiency

Now What?

I finally got these diagnoses, and now it feels like I’m being released into the wild with a few survival tips.

“Don’t drink caffeine, exercise, and improve your sleep.”

“Wear compression garments, eat a lot of salt, stay hydrated.”

“Use cold packs, take some ibuprofen, and stretch.”

“Make sure you take your medicine. Don’t take too much, but if you take too little, you can go into adrenal crisis.”

There is so much more to managing chronic illnesses. SO. MUCH. MORE. I find one of the hardest parts is when you have overlapping symptoms. When I’m dizzy and fatigued, do I increase my hydrocortisone because those are symptoms of adrenal insufficiency? Or do I put on some compressions and increase my salt intake, because it’s also a major symptom of POTS Syndrome? I’ve done both, and I’m still crashing… again, now what?

Raw

This is part of the unfiltered truth that needs to be told.

I am struggling.

Over the past several years, I have isolated myself more each day. I rarely see my friends. I miss family events. I’m afraid to make plans. Between working, raising a child who also has ongoing medical issues, being a single mom, and maintaining a home, I use every ounce of energy I have. And energy I don’t have.

I’ve been given a diagnosis without the resources to manage my chronic illnesses in a way that allows me to live functionally.

I’m not living, I’m surviving.

The profound fatigue is so debilitating that I physically cannot complete tasks like making dinner, doing laundry, checking my son’s homework, or even showering and putting on makeup. The constant, agonizing pain that even wakes me when I’m sleeping. The dizziness, the nausea, the brain fog…

Emotions

…the emotional impact.

I feel angry.

I’m angry that I can’t do everything I used to do. Angry that I can’t function at the pace I once did. Angry with the doctors who kept telling me, “It’s anxiety”. I’m angry at myself when I miss work, and when I miss my son’s sporting events.

I feel lost.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I was always the person who was ready to conquer the day. The employee who worked 70 hours a week. The mom who made quality time with her child. The daughter, the sister, and the friend that you could depend on. The girlfriend who enjoyed showering you with love. The athlete, the artist, the bookworm, the go-getter.

I feel alone.

I’m standing still, while the rest of the world keeps moving.

Some days I feel defeated, other times broken. In full transparency, there are days I feel hopeless.

Awareness…

I’m still learning and understanding what this “new life” requires and how to thrive in it.

I don’t want to be seen as a victim. I need empathy. It’s difficult for family and friends to understand the impact when they don’t have the knowledge. Many of the symptoms are invisible, and I am sick of hearing:

“We’re all tired.”
“Just push through it.”
“You don’t look sick.”

This isn’t laziness or lack of motivation. It’s capacity. Pushing through is the last thing I should do. Many chronic illnesses are lifelong illnesses without a cure.

I don’t need you to “fix me”.

I only want your support in navigating through the major changes that have turned my world upside down.

Latitude: Why I’m Here…

I’m not the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. I’m not an open book. I don’t talk about my feelings, and trust doesn’t come easily. I’m not good at asking for help, and I’ve always believed it was my job to hold everything together.

I know there are so many others living this same reality.

But maybe, if I can be honest about what these illnesses took from me, about the anger, the isolation, the grief, the moments that broke me
— Just maybe it will give someone else the courage to do the same.

I’m not here to promise that everything will be okay. I can’t know that. I am here to say:

You are not alone.
You are valuable.
It’s okay to feel any and all emotions you’re carrying.

There is a community of people who understand.

Living with latitude doesn’t mean pretending this is easy.

It means allowing space — for grief and anger, for hope and resilience — all at once.
It means choosing compassion over judgment.
It means learning how to navigate this life together. Not only with those who suffer from chronic illness, but with those who don’t.

Let’s speak honestly.
Let’s open up.
Let’s bring awareness.
Let’s live with latitude.

This is R.E.A.L.