I thought I had it figured out.
Career locked in as a 911 emergency communications engineer — building systems that kept people safe during their worst moments. Life mapped out. Next ten years planned.
Then my vision started failing.
Anti-MOG — a rare autoimmune disorder attacking my optic nerves. Within months, I went from designing emergency systems to becoming someone who needed them.
I lost my sight. My career. My independence. And for a while, any sense of who I was supposed to be.
The hardest part wasn’t the disability itself. It was the identity collapse that came with it.
No one prepares you for that — the grief of losing who you were, the exhaustion of explaining your limitations to every single person, the isolation of knowing no one truly understands what you’re navigating.
Traditional therapy told me to “accept my new normal.” Motivational speakers told me to “overcome adversity.”
But I didn’t need acceptance or motivation. I needed practical tools that worked with my actual capacity. I needed someone who understood that some days, survival IS the victory.
When I couldn’t find that support, I created what I needed: tools that work when you’re barely functioning, and community that doesn’t demand performance.