Hey friends,
I wanted to share a little behind-the-scenes from my book, MS Doesn’t Define Me: A Biography of a Polymath.
In Chapter 2, I talk about the raw grief of losing my dream job as a Phys Ed teacher after being diagnosed with MS. That loss cut deep—my purpose, my identity, my energy... all gone in what felt like a blink.
If my words light a fire in you—stick around. Subscribe, support, share the movement.
Because this isn’t just a newsletter.
It’s a revolution in resilience.
But what I didn’t know back then was that something else was waiting. Something I had to rebuild from the ground up.
This part of my story isn’t about bouncing back. It’s about digging deep. Sitting in the hard stuff. And deciding—quietly, stubbornly—that MS wasn’t going to steal all of me.
I let myself grieve. And then I got to work rewriting what life could look like.
Not despite MS, but alongside it.
I stopped seeing myself as “just” a teacher who lost her classroom. I became a storyteller. A mindset expert. A voice for people who feel invisible in their struggles.
And you know what surprised me the most? My voice—just words, no gym, no whistle—could move people just as powerfully as my body once did.
It didn’t happen overnight.
I had to let go of old definitions of success. I had to be vulnerable enough to say, “I don’t have it all figured out.” But in that vulnerability, I found something stronger than certainty: connection.
Today, I help others facing hidden illnesses, job loss, identity shifts, and life’s curveballs find the courage to rebuild. Piece by piece. Day by day.
I used to lead fitness drills.
Now I lead with honesty, grit, and a whole lot of heart.
This journey isn’t about getting back to who I used to be.
It’s about becoming someone new—and learning to love her, too.
If there’s one thing I hope you take away from my story, it’s this:
Your identity doesn’t disappear when life throws a detour your way.
It evolves.
And “different” doesn’t mean broken.
It means possible.
Thanks for walking this road with me.
Until next time,
Patti