I Think It’s Time to Come Home

It’s been a while since I’ve written here.

Life has been moving so fast that somewhere along the way, I stopped sitting down long enough to put my thoughts into words. But lately I’ve realized something…

I have so much to say.

Michael graduated. My heart is still trying to catch up with that. My little boy isn’t so little anymore, and watching him walk across that stage reminded me how quickly life changes.

At the same time, something unexpected has been happening.

I’ve started finding my voice again.

Social media has become more than posting videos. It’s become a place where I can finally show the life I’ve actually lived—not the edited version, not the version that hides my disability, but the real one.

The funny thing is, I’m finally becoming proud of things I used to hide.

There was a time when I refused to wear shorts because I was embarrassed of my braces. I spent years hoping people wouldn’t notice my legs.

Now?

I wear them anyway.

They’re just plastic.

They tell a story.

For so much of my life I was told what I wouldn’t do.

I wouldn’t walk.

I wouldn’t write.

I wouldn’t live independently.

I should be in an institution.

Those words stayed with me for years.

Now I’m creating a series called Things Doctors Said I Would Never Do.

Every video makes me stop and think…

“Wow… I really did all of that.”

I owe so much to my parents and my family for refusing to let those predictions define my future.

But living with a disability doesn’t magically become easy just because you’ve learned how to adapt.

People stop seeing your disability.

Sometimes that’s wonderful.

Sometimes it’s exhausting.

My husband depends on me for many things because English isn’t his first language. My kids still come to me for help with everything from computers to life decisions. We run a business together. I cook. I clean. I manage appointments. I answer questions. I solve problems.

I love taking care of the people I love.

But sometimes…

I’m tired.

Sometimes I wish people remembered that the body doing all those things isn’t the same as theirs.

Just because I can doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.

I’ve learned to hold a knife differently.

I hold a pen differently.

I button shirts differently.

I get dressed differently.

I walk differently.

None of that matters.

What matters is…

I do it.

I still remember sitting in school when a teacher told my mom, “She can’t write like that. She has to write like everyone else.”

No.

I didn’t.

I just had to write.

And I did.

I still do.

One of the happiest days of my life was getting my driver’s license.

Most teenagers see driving as freedom.

I saw it as new feet.

That car would take me where my body struggled to.

It gave me independence that I never thought I’d have.

People often tell me I’m inspiring.

The truth is, I’m just living.

I’m a wife.

I’m a mom.

I help run a business.

I’m navigating menopause, chronic illness, disability, and everyday life like so many women are.

Some days I’m exhausted.

Some days I’m overwhelmed.

Some days I wonder if I’m asking too much of myself.

But then I look back.

I look at the girl who hid behind long pants because she didn’t want anyone to see her braces.

I look at the girl doctors underestimated.

And I smile.

Because she would be so proud of the woman I became.

If sharing my life helps one person believe that they can keep going…

If one little girl wearing braces sees me and thinks, “Maybe I can do that too…”

Then every story I’ve shared has been worth it.

This blog has always been called Between the Flares.

Life doesn’t only happen during the hard moments.

It happens in between them.

That’s where we’re living now.

And I have a feeling the best chapters are still waiting to be written.