“Create a Purpose such that no matter the challenge before you, your actions DO NOT CHANGE.”

Welcome to the dreamers, creators, builders, and believers who have joined us! 🚀 And to those who have been here for a while but have been quietly observing… this is your sign to step forward again. Impossible is often just a challenge waiting for the right mindset, the right people, and the right action. 🌱 This collective isn’t about waiting for the perfect moment — it’s about taking the next step, sharing your ideas, learning from others, and turning possibilities into progress. ✨ Recent New members: Introduce yourself! What inspired you to join? 🔥 Quiet Returning members: What is one dream, goal, or idea you’re ready to bring back to life? The impossible becomes possible when people come together. Let’s create, connect, and make things happen. 🌍 #TheImpossibleCollective #DreamBig #CreateTogether #MakeItHappen

This is my husband Steve. We have been working together for several months. He has the biggest heart/ strength of heart of anybody I know. Please don’t ever limit a person or insist that possible is not for them. And we will be with many of you at the USPC Paranationals incredibly soon 🤩❤️‍🔥💪🔥

An unbreakable body is impressive. An unconquerable mind is unstoppable. A heart set ablaze is invincible

Last week, I sat in my neurologist’s office for what I expected to be another appointment. Another discussion about symptoms. Another conversation about cerebellar ataxia. Another reminder of what had happened to me over twenty years ago when a stroke changed the trajectory of my life. Instead, I heard words I never imagined I would hear. My neurologist looked at me and said: “You’re going to be around for a long time.” And I started sobbing. Not graceful tears. Not polite tears. The kind of tears that come from somewhere so deep inside of you that they surprise even you. Because for years — if I am honest — I never thought I would hear those words. At 23 years old, after addiction, trauma, and the devastating loss of my father to suicide, I had a cerebellar stroke. My life changed overnight. One day I had independence. The next, I had paralysis. I had to learn how to walk again. How to speak clearly again. How to navigate a body and brain that no longer moved the way they once had. For a long time, life became about survival. And survival is a strange place to live. You are alive, but not fully living. You are breathing, but carrying fear. Fear about what comes next. Fear about what has been lost. Fear about how much time you have. Somewhere deep inside me, I think a part of me quietly wondered for years if my body would continue to decline. If I would ever truly feel strong again. If I would ever feel fully alive again. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. I got serious about recovery. Not just from substances. Not just from an eating disorder. But recovery in the deepest sense of the word. Recovery of mind. Recovery of body. Recovery of spirit. I have now been sober for 12 years. I fought my way through an eating disorder that once consumed my life. I stopped merely surviving and began prioritizing my mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing. I started treating my body less like an enemy and more like something sacred.