Humbly Courageous

Hello and welcome to another week at Humbly Courageous! I’m so encouraged, and my passion fueled when I see how many are now reading my blog posts each week. My hopes of reaching others has become more than just hopes. It’s become a reality, and I couldn’t be more excited, as I watch this space grow!  Has your spirit ever been broken by someone? Your confidence shattered into a million pieces? For most, I’m guessing the answer to that question is, yes. Over the course of your lifetime, it’s probably happened more times than you want to admit. Maybe it was a teacher, coach, guidance counselor, doctor, family member, or possibly even a friend.  I’m what many people would refer to as a highly sensitive person. They would be correct. I even read a book about it, and during the entirety of the book I was like, “yep that’s me!” It is just the way I’m made. There are some drawbacks to being a HSP as it’s called, but there are also some positives. I’m usually the person in the room who is feel

Welcome back to Humbly Courageous! If you are new, I’m glad you stopped by! I strive to make this a space for learning about what it’s like living life with a disability, as well as to connnect with others on a level that I always needed in my life. I’ve been overwhelmed by the response to my recent post “Dear Muscular Dystrophy”. Sometimes things in life go exactly as you’d like them to, and so far this has been one of those things. This piece still has places I want it to go too! Writing this piece was such a huge release of emotion for me, and also a release of bound up words that I’ve been trying to unscramble and make sense of for a very long time. I’m going to share a stem cell update in this post, but first I wanted to share a few things people have said regarding that post. Their words moved me as much as my words moved them. What a beautiful connection!  You can read “Dear Muscular Dystrophy” here ⬇️ https://humblycourageous.blogspot.com/2023/06/dear-muscular-dystrophy.html?m=

Hello and welcome to another week at Humbly Courageous. Several years ago, my mom gifted me with the Book Titled “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (and it’s all small stuff). I’m sure many of you have heard of it and maybe have even read it too. For a long time, it sat on my bookshelf. I’d pack it up whenever I moved, feeling guilty to get rid of it because it had a beautiful, encouraging message from my mom in the front of it. Each move, I’d box it up move it and unbox it to put it back on the shelf to collect dust (I’m sorry mom, but keep reading!) For several years, the title of that book just ticked me off. My worries were not small stuff! After all, I was living with a lifelong disability that, at the time, was not yet named. I thought, “this book probably doesn’t even apply to me anyway!” Wouldn’t it be great if we could have the insight we have now as an adult when we were kids? Oh how I would have done things a differently! That’s just a part of the the process though. Live and lear

Hello, welcome! I’m glad you stopped by. Last week, I found myself in an a situation that I wasn’t expecting at all. It was something that I had been dreading for a very long time. The thought of it was something that terrified me, and I felt like whenever it happened, I would have failed, given up. Like it would somehow be my fault. Like I had failed me and everyone in my life. When it finally happened, it wasn’t at all what I had envisioned for so many years. I remember when we built our home 20 years ago. My husband made sure to work with our builder to make our house wheelchair accessible. I remember thinking at the time, “oh that’s great, but I don’t see me needing those accommodations unless I have a surgery or something”, which is when I had needed a wheelchair in the past. As each year ticked by though, I found myself thinking of that as more of a reality. That’s how muscular dystrophy works, it just takes and takes showing no mercy. It’s selfish like that. Some types progress

A letter to Muscular Dystrophy on the eve of my 49th birthday. This has been a lifelong journey…. Dear Muscular Dystrophy, At times you dazzle me, showing me the heights of human love and kindness, and at other times you take me to the deepest, darkest parts of my soul. I have silently pleaded, please just let this end. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’d like to say that was a one-time thought, but you’ve made it impossible to tell that as a truth.  I want to love you because you are a part of me, but you make it so hard at times. You feel like a best friend when I achieve feats that seem impossible due to my physical weakness, but also you feel like my worst enemy living inside of my body when you fail me, and I’m once again lying on the floor. You robbed me of big chunks of childhood joy, while I sat in silent envy of my friends, as I watched them effortlessly turn cartwheels, run and jump.  You are stuck to me like glue during the countless hours in waiting rooms, operating rooms