Functional Medicine Specialist

I remember the first time I felt a strange sensation in my chest. It was a few months ago during one of our biggest projects. I thought it was just anxiety and tiredness. I pushed through, telling myself I would rest once things settled. But things never truly settle, right? There’s always another challenge, another deadline, another problem to solve. And through it all, my heart has been quietly telling me something.

Today, after the kids left for school and my husband, Mark, went to the office, I sat in the quiet of our kitchen and allowed myself to really feel. It scared me. This isn’t the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep can fix. It’s a deep tiredness, a constant reminder that something isn’t right. I made an appointment with a functional medicine practitioner finally admitting that my health needs attention.

The idea of heart disease scares me. My grandmother died of a heart attack when I was young. I still remember the chaos, the sadness in our family. I remember my mother’s tears and the funeral where I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Heart disease is something that has always worried me, but I never thought it would affect me.

As I sit here, writing these thoughts, I think about my children—Emily and Jacob. They are my world, my light on the darkest days. What would they do without me? Who would guide Emily through her teenage years, help Jacob with his homework, or just be there for them in the way only a mother can? And Mark, my rock, my partner in this life—we’ve built so much together. The thought of leaving him alone fills me with sadness.

I’ve always prided myself on being strong, on being able to handle anything. But this... this weakness, this uncertainty about my heart’s health, it’s something I don’t know how to deal with. I can’t fix it with a business plan or a meeting. It requires me to slow down, to listen to my body, to admit that I am not invincible.

I spent part of today learning about heart health. The numbers are serious. Women are at high risk, and yet our symptoms are often overlooked or misunderstood. The signs can be subtle, easily blamed on stress or tiredness. It’s scary how many women suffer in silence, their concerns pushed aside. I won’t be one of those women. My family deserves better; I deserve better.

In the coming days, I need to make changes. My diet, my exercise routine, my work-life balance—all need a hard look. I’ve been so focused on building my business, on providing for my family, that I’ve ignored the most important thing: my health. If I don’t take care of myself, everything I’ve worked for could fall apart.

The hardest part is going to be stepping back, learning to let others help more, and saying no to more work. It’s hard when you’re used to being the one in control. But I must learn to trust that my team can handle things, and to let my family take on more at home.

I’m also worried about the money. Medical tests, treatments—they’re expensive. Our budget is already stretched thin with the business and the kids’ activities. But this is non-negotiable. My health comes first, and we’ll figure out the rest as we go.

Tonight, when Mark gets home, I need to talk to him. Really talk. He needs to understand how serious this is, and we need to figure out a plan together. I know he’ll be supportive, but the guilt of adding more on his shoulders weighs on me.

As I finish writing, I feel a mix of fear and determination. Fear of what might happen, of what I need to do. But also determination to take control of my health, to be there for my family, and to keep chasing my dreams—just at a slower, more careful pace.

One step at a time, I will handle this. My heart, as fragile as it feels, is still strong. It’s a reminder that I’m alive, that I have the power to change my story, to prioritize my well-being. I owe it to myself, to my children, and to Mark to be the best version of me—healthy, happy, and here for as long as possible.