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.

Had Liz Strong, OCB Pro Bodybuilder competing in Bikini on the Podcast this week 👊🏻❤️‍🔥 She has her own gym focused on Women’s Health, and has built a powerful Community focused on Strength. She is definitely a Wonder Woman!!

I want to share something deeply personal because if even one person reads this and decides to keep going, it will be worth it. At 23, my life shattered. A year and a half earlier, my father passed . The grief consumed me. I lost hope and survived a suicide attempt that caused a catastrophic cerebellar stroke. I lost almost everything. I spent years unable to speak. Nearly immobile. In a wheelchair. I struggled with ataxia, paralysis, anorexia, substances, and a mind that no longer believed there was a future worth fighting for. Imagine being young and feeling like your life ended before it even began. Imagine feeling trapped in your own body. Imagine believing that what is broken can never heal. That was my reality. And yet, this is the part I need someone out there to hear: What you feel today is not necessarily what will be true forever. In 2013, I made a decision that changed everything. I stopped feeding the voice that said “you can’t.” I began training my mind and body at the same time. I repeated movements relentlessly. I practiced physical tasks over and over. I changed how I spoke to myself. I challenged the beliefs that told me I was damaged beyond repair. I worked to heal my perception of myself and of other people. I recovered from substances. I fought anorexia. I started building strength — physically, mentally, emotionally. And little by little, something extraordinary happened. I improved. Then improved again. And again. Not overnight. Not quickly. Not perfectly. But steadily. Today, I’m 45 years old. I work as a heavy equipment mechanic — a physically and mentally demanding job. I weigh 124 pounds and deadlift 265 pounds. After a devastating cerebellar stroke and severe loss of my cerebellum, I am still improving. Let me say that again for the person who feels hopeless: I am still improving. Not because I’m special. Not because life suddenly became easy. But because I refused to stop trying when the evidence around me said I should.

What if your greatest Challenge became your greatest Strength?? Learn more from Bella here: https://youtu.be/eDfcxqwpkPI?si=PbJxe15xrb6ERHY2

When life throws hurdle after hurdle in your path, get back up every single time. I’m telling you this because it’s been lived—a cerebellar stroke that took balance and control, years lost to addiction and eating disorders, a body and mind pushed past what seemed repairable. There were moments it would’ve made sense to stay down. But step by step, rep by rep, everything was rebuilt. At 45, when most people think it’s too late, strength was still there—waiting to be uncovered. Not perfectly. Not quickly. But relentlessly. And that’s what you need to understand—this isn’t just one story. I’ve seen other women face the unimaginable and still rise with a strength that doesn’t need to be announced. Quiet. Steady. Unbreakable. That same strength is in you. So when life keeps knocking you down, don’t stay there. Get back up. Again and again. No matter your age. No matter your past. Because real strength is proven in the rising—and you are far stronger than you think