You Are Stronger Thank You Think

My epilepsy journey has shaped every part of my life, including my faith, my motherhood, my teaching, and my purpose. I was forced to grow up quickly and face fears that many people never experience. I learned how to find strength in the middle of seizures, surgeries, and setbacks. Over the years, I have endured brain surgeries, countless appointments, and moments of both hope and heartbreak. Through it all, I carried the pressure of staying strong for everyone around me, even when my body felt unpredictable.

Living with epilepsy has brought challenges that impacted everything from my health to my confidence to my identity. I faced four brain surgeries, seizures that arrived without warning, and the emotional weight of feeling misunderstood or underestimated. I carried the fear of the unknown while still trying to show up as a mother, a teacher, a coach, and a leader. The guilt of needing help, the exhaustion of constant appointments, and the pressure to appear strong made the journey even harder. Yet I overcame these challenges by refusing to give up on myself. I leaned on my faith, my family, and the determination that my story had a greater purpose. I learned to advocate for my needs, to give myself grace, and to keep moving forward even when I felt broken. 

Epilepsy did not break me. It built me into the woman I am today. I am a wife, a mother to two beautiful children named James and Isabella, a teacher, a coach, and a principal in training. My children have seen me fight through pain, hospital days, and the emotional weight of epilepsy. I work every day to show them that strength can be soft, tired, determined, imperfect, and still incredibly powerful.

Living with epilepsy has taught me the reality of being misunderstood or underestimated. I know what it feels like to question my identity and my future. I know what it feels like to show up for others while quietly battling my own challenges. These experiences taught me what resilience truly means. I learned how to advocate for myself, find purpose in my pain, appreciate small victories, and keep pushing forward even when the journey felt overwhelming.

Epilepsy also changed the way I show up as a teacher. I turned my pain into purpose by becoming an educator who leads with empathy. Every obstacle taught me resilience, and every setback reminded me that I am stronger than anything epilepsy tried to take from me.
I teach fifth and sixth-grade science, and I am preparing to become a school leader. My own experiences help me understand the students who struggle silently or feel different from their peers. I lead with empathy because I know what invisible battles feel like. I want my students to see that limitations do not decide your future and challenges do not define your worth. When they look at me, I want them to see someone who faced obstacles and still built a life filled with love, education, leadership, and purpose.

Every obstacle taught me resilience, and every setback reminded me that I am stronger than anything epilepsy tried to take from me. One of the most meaningful parts of my journey was writing my book titled My Battle With Epilepsy. At first, it was simply a way to release everything that I had held inside for so long. As I wrote, it transformed into something much bigger. The book became a way to heal and to speak directly to others who may feel alone in their struggles. I wrote openly about epilepsy, motherhood, mental health, faith, trauma, and identity. Each chapter reflects a part of my healing, and each ending reminds the reader that every battle teaches us something about who we are.

Seeing my book published and placed in a local store in Elyria, Ohio, at Roxy’s Emporium was a moment I will never forget. After years of fighting through fear and uncertainty, I finally had something tangible to show for the pain and growth. Now others can hold my story in their hands and find comfort, connection, or strength in the words. Sharing my book has also allowed me to raise awareness about epilepsy within my community, especially in Ohio, where I live and teach.

My journey is still unfolding. Epilepsy is not something that goes away, and it has required me to constantly learn, adapt, and grow. Yet every day I choose to turn my struggles into strength and my experiences into purpose. My story is a reminder that even in the hardest chapters, there is meaning and hope. Epilepsy will always be part of my life, but it will never be the whole story. If my journey helps one person feel less alone or more understood, then every painful moment has been worth it.

I decided to tell my story because for years I carried so much inside that I never fully shared. Living with epilepsy, going through four brain surgeries, being a mom, a teacher, and a leader while battling something invisible often left me feeling isolated. I realized that if I felt that way, then others probably did too. Writing my book was the moment when everything shifted. What began as a personal outlet grew into something much more powerful, a message of strength, faith, and resilience that I never knew I had inside me. As I wrote, I understood that my journey could help someone else feel seen, validated, and less alone. I chose to share my story because I wanted to turn my pain into purpose and use my experiences to support others who may be struggling quietly. My book allowed me to be honest and vulnerable while still offering hope. It reminded me that our stories are not meant to stay hidden. They are meant to inspire, connect, and heal. Sharing my journey is my way of giving strength to others and reminding them that they matter.

I have participated in several Epilepsy Foundation programs and events, and each experience has played an important role in my journey. I have taken part in winter walks, awareness walks, and events at Zoos, all of which made me feel supported and connected to a community that truly understands what epilepsy looks and feels like. These events reminded me that I am not alone and that there are families across Ohio fighting similar battles with courage and hope. The Epilepsy Foundation has also helped me become a stronger advocate. Through their resources and information, I have been able to push for more epilepsy training and awareness in schools, especially for staff who work directly with children who have seizures. Their programs empowered me to use my voice as both an educator and someone living with epilepsy. The support and education I have received from the Epilepsy Foundation continues to inspire me to spread awareness, share my story, and help create safer and more understanding environments for others.

If I could share anything with others facing their own battles, it would be this: you are stronger than you think, and your struggle does not define your worth. There will be moments when you feel tired or scared or unsure of what comes next, but those moments do not take away the courage that already lives inside you. Healing is not a straight line, and strength does not always look loud. Sometimes it looks like getting out of bed, showing up for your family, or simply choosing not to quit. Give yourself grace, celebrate every small victory, and remember that you do not have to walk your journey alone. Your story matters. Your voice matters. And even when you cannot see it yet, purpose and beauty are waiting on the other side of every challenge. Keep going, because you are becoming someone stronger, wiser, and braver than you ever imagined.