My ability to strike a healthy balance between school, work, and my personal life has been significantly hindered by living with cystic fibrosis. CF isn’t just a condition — it’s a full-time responsibility. It demands consistency, discipline, and energy that I often feel I don’t have. Every day starts with a set of treatments: nebulizers, vest therapy, a cocktail of medications, and sometimes additional therapies depending on my symptoms. These routines take up hours of my day, and when I skip even a few treatments, I feel the effects almost immediately. Yet, even with all of that, life doesn't stop to make space for illness. I still have responsibilities, deadlines, and people depending on me — and balancing all of that has been nothing short of overwhelming.

There have been many occasions where the demands of school and work have forced me to miss treatments. I would often convince myself, “It’s just one session. I’ll catch up later.” But with CF, there is no “catching up.” The damage builds up quietly. Those skipped treatments and late nights doing schoolwork instead of prioritizing my health caught up with me in the worst way. 

This all came to a head during one of the most stressful periods of my life. I was attending college full-time online while working full-time as a behavior technician, and coping with personal grief from the loss of several close family members. Emotionally, I was already worn down, but I kept pushing myself to maintain the pace. I didn’t want CF to limit me, so I kept trying to operate like I wasn’t chronically ill. 

I’d wake up every day at 6 a.m. just to have enough time to prepare for my long commute. My job was located in the next state over, and I needed to arrive by 7:45 a.m. sharp. My workday didn’t end until around 5 p.m., and since my partner worked until 6 p.m., we often didn’t arrive home until after 6:30 p.m. By then, I was completely exhausted. I’d skip meals, only occasionally take my medications, and crash into bed without doing my vest or nebulizer. My energy was gone, and I didn’t realize my health was rapidly declining.

I also didn’t know that my body was already at the beginning of a serious health battle — one that would last over a month and leave me with long-term consequences. In May 2025, my health took a dramatic turn for the worse. I developed high fevers, body aches, and a relentless, violent cough that left me short of breath and weak. I was prescribed four different courses of antibiotics — each lasting two weeks — and was still not getting better. I was in and out of medical appointments and trying to rest, but the infection was stubborn. The physical toll of the illness made it almost impossible to function, let alone work full-time. I was calling out frequently, leaving early, or pushing through days while barely able to stay standing. It got to the point where I had to resign from my position. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly. I loved that job. It gave me a sense of purpose and independence. But I simply couldn’t meet the demands anymore, and it broke my heart to step away.

The consequences didn’t stop at losing my job. My partner and I had been planning to get married, but the financial strain that followed my job loss made that impossible. Without my income, everything changed. We were suddenly stretched thin and struggling to keep up with expenses. We were forced to put our wedding plans on hold indefinitely. This added a layer of emotional pain on top of the physical and financial burdens I was already facing.

I felt like my illness had robbed me not just of my career, but of major milestones in my personal life. I carried — and still carry — a deep sense of guilt for not being able to follow through with the life I had planned.

At the root of it all was a decision I regret deeply: assuming that skipping a few treatments here and there wouldn’t make a difference. That assumption led to almost four months of inconsistent treatments. During that time, I developed a severe lung infection caused by a microbacterium. I had been warned about this bacterium — it’s particularly dangerous for people with CF. But I never thought these consequences would happen to me. Yet, by not following my treatment plan, I gave the infection the chance to thrive. That decision, made out of exhaustion and stress, cost me my health, my job, and my financial independence.

This all made me think often of my mother, who was always strict with me about doing my treatments growing up. At the time, I resented her for it. I didn’t understand the urgency or the fear she carried for my well-being. As a teenager, I wanted to feel normal and free — not tethered to machines or medication schedules. But now, I realize she was trying to protect me from exactly what happened this year. If I had listened more and taken my treatments seriously, I might have avoided the worst of what I went through. Her discipline was love in disguise, and I see that now with complete clarity.

Since leaving my job, I’ve tried to focus on healing — not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. I started creating and selling handmade crafts as a small side hustle. It doesn’t replace a full-time income, but it gives me something positive to focus on and allows me to contribute in my own way. I’ve also made a renewed commitment to my health. Now, I never skip treatments and I prioritize my medications and care above everything else. I finally understand the importance of consistency in managing this disease.

Cystic fibrosis has reshaped every corner of my life — from how I plan my days to how I view my future. It’s a battle that doesn’t take breaks, and living with it has taught me hard lessons about self-care, priorities, and resilience. I’ve learned that I cannot be everything to everyone if I’m not first taking care of myself. My health has to come before work, before school, before everything — because when I neglect it, everything else falls apart. But in this journey, I’ve also found strength I didn’t know I had. I'm learning to rebuild one step at a time with better habits, more patience, and a deeper appreciation for the small victories that come with healing.

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