Please don’t pity me, I’m not broken. I’m built different

Hey Warriors,

You know what I wish people would stop doing?

Looking at me like I’m already gone. Like I’m fragile. Like I’m someone to feel sorry for.

Don’t pity me.

I’m not here for that.

Yes, I have a heart that runs on batteries.

Yes, I’ve been in hospice.

Yes, I’ve been told I only had months left.

But somehow, I’m still out here getting things done.

You know what that does to a person? It sharpens your sense of what’s possible. It makes excuses sound real flimsy real fast.

So when people around me say they can’t do something, can’t focus, can’t finish, can’t figure it out, I won’t lie… I have a hard time relating. I’ve written, created, raised kids, built plans, and made beauty out of breakdowns — all while my heart functioned at 5%. Five.

What’s your excuse?

I say that with love.

But also with realness.

I’m not saying every day is easy. Most days are hard. I live with pain, fatigue, and limits that aren’t visible from the outside. But I push. I pause. I pivot. I move. Because I’ve learned that most of the time, the biggest thing standing in our way is us.

I’ve had to decide, over and over, that I’m not my diagnosis. I’m not just surviving, I’m still showing up with purpose. On purpose.

So no, don’t feel sorry for me. Feel inspired, if you must. Or just feel challenged to stop underestimating yourself.

Because if I can keep going with 5% heart function, a corded-up body, multiple IV scars, and more hospital wristbands than I can count,

Then maybe you can take the next step toward your mission too.

“Because if I can keep going with 5% heart function, a corded-up body, multiple IV scars, and more hospital wristbands than I can count, then maybe you can take the next step toward your mission too.”

With Heart,

💙 Phoenix