I thought I had cystic fibrosis figured out. Growing up, I had challenges like a brutal morning cough that lasted for hours and a constant sense of fatigue, but I still felt like one of the lucky ones. I never had major complications. I played on my high school tennis team, kept up with school, and lived life as normally as I could — even when it was exhausting. 

When Orkambi came along in high school, it felt like a miracle. My cough disappeared, and I finally felt like I could breathe, move, and live without constantly being weighed down by my disease. Back then, Orkambi gave me the confidence to believe I was truly healthy. These days, I am on Trikafta, and it has been life-changing in new and different ways.

So when it came time for college, I was ready to prove I could handle everything on my own. I wanted to go out of state, start fresh, and show my family that the love and support they had always given me had prepared me to take the reins. I chose a university in Rhode Island and joined the tennis team. I didn’t know anyone, but I figured tennis would be a good way to meet people while doing something I loved. I threw myself into my studies as an anthropology and sociology major and worked a part-time job coaching at the International Tennis Hall of Fame. From the outside, it looked like everything was going great.

But something wasn’t right. I was always tired. I drank water nonstop. I took naps that never left me feeling rested. I chalked it up to being busy and adjusting to college life; but in hindsight, those were the early signs of something bigger.

My (secondary) diagnosis came after a routine appointment with my CF care team at Boston Children’s Hospital. My parents flew in from Oklahoma to drive me to my appointment because, as a freshman, I wasn’t allowed to have a car on campus. After the appointment, we were nearly back in Newport when the hospital called. They told us to turn around immediately. My bloodwork showed something concerning, and I needed to be admitted that day.

We swung by campus, packed a quick overnight bag, and headed back to the hospital, not knowing what to expect. That’s when I found out I have cystic fibrosis-related diabetes (CFRD). I would have to learn how to give myself insulin, check my blood sugar levels, and manage this new diagnosis on top of CF. I felt crushed. I couldn’t stop crying. I had convinced myself I was doing everything right, that I was healthy, that I could handle it all, and suddenly it felt like none of that was true anymore.

Even though the doctors were kind, and my family was there for me, I felt broken. I was terrified of needles, which made everything harder. After a few days of learning how to manage CFRD, I returned to campus and tried to pick up where I left off. Some people treated me differently. But a few close friends — especially one nursing major who helped check my blood sugar and even gave me insulin shots when I was overwhelmed — reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

That summer, I stayed in Newport and worked full-time at the Hall of Fame. Most of my friends had gone home, so I threw myself into work. I started skipping insulin doses. I told myself I was fine. I wanted to prove I could keep up and that I didn’t need help. But slowly, my health started slipping. By the start of my sophomore year, my blood sugar levels were back in the 300s and 400s. I felt awful. I couldn’t make it through classes or tennis practices. I started losing my motivation and energy. Everything felt like it was falling apart.

By the time Thanksgiving came, I was back in the hospital. I tried to keep up with my coursework from my hospital bed, but I couldn’t. I took a short medical leave, hoping to bounce back. Ultimately, I had to make the hardest decision I’d ever faced. I withdrew from school and moved back to Oklahoma after Christmas.

I felt like a failure. I had worked so hard to be independent, to chase the life I wanted, and now I was back home, trying to pick up the pieces. But deep down, I knew I had made the right choice. My health needed to come first.

Back in Oklahoma, I spent the first few months of the new year focused on recovery. This time was different. I had seen what could happen when I didn’t take care of myself, and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. Shortly after moving back home, the pandemic hit, and I — like everyone else — had to adjust. I enrolled at the University of Oklahoma and finished my degree remotely. It wasn’t the path I planned, but it gave me space to fully come to terms with CFRD and what it means to live with it.

Eventually, I earned my bachelor’s degree in anthropology. I found purpose in the nonprofit world, where I now work as a grant writer, trying to give back to the communities that matter most to me. I’ve found love, support, and a partner who embraces all of me, disease and all. I’m living a life I’m proud of, even if it looks different from what I once imagined.

This journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s made me who I am, and I’m proud of myself. You’re allowed to fall apart. What matters is how you put yourself back together.

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