Growing Your Voice with The Ability Harbor
Join a community where your journey with disability or chronic illness is honored. Be inspired and learn practical tips, up to date resources and personal stories of others navigating through similar waters.
1 min read
Finding encouragement when we’re living with a disability or chronic illness can sometimes feel like searching for light on a cloudy day. But one of the most powerful sources of that light often comes from others who truly understand the journey. There’s something deeply reassuring about connecting with people who “get it” without explanation—who know the wins, the setbacks, and the in-between moments that don’t always make sense to the outside world.
Whether it’s through a support group, an online community, or even one meaningful friendship, shared experiences have a way of turning isolation into connection. We begin to see that our story isn’t just our's—it’s part of a larger, resilient community. Encouragement grows in these spaces, not because everything is perfect, but because people show up honestly, offering empathy, humor, advice, and hope.
In those connections, we’re reminded: we’re not alone, and we don’t have to navigate this path by ourself. Sometimes, just knowing someone else is walking beside us—even in spirit—is enough to keep us moving forward.
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Founder's Story
As a medical professional, I spent my entire career caring for people at their most vulnerable. I had the privilege of standing beside families as they welcomed new life and holding hands as others said goodbye to someone they loved dearly. My work was never just a job—it was a calling, and I poured my heart and soul into it.
In 2005, everything changed. I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, a blow I never expected. Overnight, I found myself on the other side of the medical world—the patient instead of the professional. Over the years, I faced multiple surgeries, chemotherapy trials, and the latest radiation therapies. Each offered hope, but none could stop the tumor’s relentless growth. Eventually, I had to face the painful truth that I could no longer continue the work I loved and depended on. That loss brought its own kind of grief.
Not long after my third surgery and another round of radiation, I experienced a medical emergency at home—status epilepticus. Simply put, it’s a seizure lasting more than five minutes or a series of seizures without regaining consciousness in between. Quick treatment is essential to prevent permanent injury or even death. They estimated I was on the floor for several hours before help arrived.
When I woke up four days later, everything felt unfamiliar. My memory was clouded, my body unsteady, and I had no idea what had happened. What I did learn was that my life had changed permanently. I now had uncontrolled epilepsy caused by extensive scarring from surgeries and radiation.
I spent the next three months in a neurological rehabilitation program. I relearned how to balance and move. I worked through cognitive challenges. I learned how to adapt and rebuild my independence. It was a long, humbling journey—but I wasn’t alone. With an incredible support network and a determination to keep moving forward, I slowly began piecing my life back together.
Light and Love.
