Striding with the Strubes

On the early morning of April 29, 2016, the operating room doors opened for a young girl living with cystic fibrosis—a disease that had taken so much from her and left her sick and dying. But she entered that room with a spirit full of hope. Hope that the gift about to be placed inside her would give her the chance to live again. Despite the pain and loss that made this gift possible, it was a gift worth everything. So worth it.

Each year, my transplant anniversary brings a flood of emotions and deep reflection—on where I’ve been, and where I am now. I often wish the pain and suffering I endured weren’t part of the path to this deep sense of gratitude. It was hard. So hard. But it was also humbling—mentally and spiritually. Without that struggle, I’m not sure I’d have the same appreciation for all the big and little things in my life. It shifted my perspective and helped me focus on what really matters.

What I’ve been able to do with these past nine years is a breathtaking reminder of why I fought so hard to stay strong enough for transplantation. It reminds me of the miracle of organ donation—the science, the training, the selflessness behind it all. It’s bittersweet, the idea that someone’s final act can give someone else a new beginning. It reminds me that a second chance at life isn’t something to take lightly—it’s a calling to truly live. And to do it on your own terms, not by the noise of the outside world.

Our stories are more than pictures on the internet. They teach us. They define us. My journey has deepened so many emotions—one of the strongest being empathy. Empathy for those still in the thick of their battles, for the pain they carry just trying to make it to another tomorrow. It’s hard. And it doesn’t always make sense—this “why me?” question we carry. But I’ve learned that we are never truly alone. I wouldn’t be here without the people who held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own. The ones who carried the burden when I was too weak. The voices that said, “You’ve got this,” when I truly believed I didn’t. It’s a reminder to show up for others. Even the smallest support can mean everything.

Every year on this day, I plant flowers. This morning, I sat outside with my coffee and soaked in a moment of peace. I don’t usually see butterflies this time of year at my place, but today, a large, beautiful one flew right to my arm and landed on one of the flowers I had just planted. I saw it as a sign. It reminded me of a quote in one of my notebooks:

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”
—Maya Angelou

Thank you for this sign, my angel donor. Thank you for giving me life in your final moments and allowing me to spread my wings again. Without you, my story wouldn’t have continued. God bless your family, who I know are missing you especially today. I hope they know that I will always honor your gift—and live this life to the fullest.

Nine years. I can’t believe it’s been nine years. I am grateful for it all.

The last three months I have been scared, I have been sad, I have been in pain, and found myself in the darkness more then in the light. Time continues to pass, time that is precious. The time here on earth that I have always prayed to Jesus for.

I have kept my space from social media and posting for awhile now. Truth is it’s hard for me to open up about how I am doing mentally. I have been trying so hard to continue to be strong and brave, but I’m just tired from it all. Many won’t read this long post and that is ok. It is almost like a journal.. a therapeutic endeavor for me. If it happens to change one persons life or perspective I find these words are worth sharing.

The past several months I have become someone I don’t even recognize anymore. When I look in the mirror I don’t recognize the person looking back at me. The journey of fighting for my life every single day, putting my brave smile on has started to diminish in slow motion. Worry, pain, and days of pure darkness & tears have crept up on me. I wasn’t the same throughout this recovery experience of my last life saving surgery. Maybe I have been feeling this way from the stroke..maybe it was from all the pain,or maybe it was just my body & mind doubting if I could overcome anything more at 31 years old.

The day before my stoke I blew my highest lung function with the angel lungs. It was so gratifying & assuring my body was doing well and recovering from having COVID. Then within 24 hours those steps forward that I thought I was on, turned into ten steps back. Defeating doesn’t even quite explain it.

Sometimes we are just not okay. Sometimes you lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart. Thirty plus years of reality has awoken in me, the trauma I have experienced, yet never have fully coped with. The reality has hit me that I am officially exhausted from fighting for every breath. How much can a person endure before they fall into pieces?

I am always fighting through the odds of survival. Fighting through being a human pin cushion and enduring over 50 procedures and surgeries. Fighting through the bitterness of “why me”. Fighting through the stress of medical bills. Fighting through the stress of all I have to miss out on because of my health. Fighting through losing friends to my same disease. (The survivors guilt is real. )

I have never been one to give up, my faith is strong, I’m doing my best. But suddenly my best doesn’t seem to help anymore. I don’t want to live this way, I tried not to let these feelings break me.

I have accepted that it’s ok to have a weary heart, to feel alone, to be struggling. I know the most common comments I hear are: “but you have so much to be thankful for”, “how could you be sad?” “What will make you happy?” “It could be so much worse, count your blessings.” “It will get better tomorrow..it’s just a phase.” As these are all relative, I know I have caught myself saying this to someone.

I turned 32 a few days ago. I am thankful to see these numbers & beat the odds I always face. But you can be thankful and be sad at the same time. You can one day be happy and suddenly overflowing sadness creeps in the next. Your mind won’t stop running and your tears won’t stop flowing. You can have all the faith one day and lose sight of Gods purpose for you the next. You can think your worthless, a burden, and then be reminded how much you mean to someone. This is the process of depression. To be physically sick and mentally sick, well it can be hard as hell.

At my worst there was a point where my mind was giving me thoughts that I was better off dead. I fell off the mountain. How far is too far? I didn’t know how to cope with it all…And that’s when I really needed & got help. I needed to get out of this dark place and find me again. I don’t know how someone could heal through this weakness & process of mental illness without support in someway or another. One thing I’m thankful I did was be upfront & honest with not only myself but my loved ones so I could get the help I needed.

We can be so hard on ourselves, I know I have been. The advice I have received of giving myself patience. Giving myself grace can go a long way. Some days are harder than others. There is always a lot going on in our lives, in our world, and this can mean our mental and physical health takes the back seat. We are just “too busy” or “too embarrassed” & “afraid to confront our deepest fears & anxieties.” I am trying to take one day at a time. I am trying to be gentle with myself in my sadness, in my pain.. My most precious reminder to myself is to take a deep breath. This breath is the most precious gift of life I have ever received. This is my second chance.

There are many compassionate, knowledgeable, and impactful people out there who will help you on your journey with mental health diseases. I am thankful for the resources out there for mental health, I promise there will be somebody who could change your life for the better. I now feel confident that my team who is managing my mental health have already helped tremendously.

I will get through it day by day. There will always be uphill battles. It takes time. It takes faith & hope to let go of the demons breaking us. It has taken valuable help, support, & words of faith from my loved ones. The strong love of my husband & admiration of my miracle daughter. It’s given me some perspective back that I needed. I look into my sweet daughters loving eyes and I know she needs me. She needs a mommy who will fight with all she has to be by her side forever.

Life is short and if you want change before it’s too late please find the right ways to do so. You are never alone..don’t forget that.

“when you get the choice to sit it out or dance….Dance... I hope you dance.”