Do You Know What It Feels Like to Wake Up and Not Be Able to Breathe?
Do you know what it feels like to wake up and not be able to breathe? I do. The first time it happened, I woke up gasping for air. I literally could not breathe. My throat was dry, and I had a relentless cough. Desperately, I tried to pull myself up from my bed to get water. My body felt like it was shutting down, and in that moment, I thought I was dying.
When I finally stumbled out of my room, my son and my niece heard me. They rushed to my side, asking if I was okay. But I couldn’t speak. Tears were streaming down my face as I tried to gesture for water. They were scared, and so was I. My life felt like it was flashing before my eyes. When I finally managed to get water, I drank it as if I was drowning, trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. I couldn’t explain what was happening, but one thought consumed me: Was this it? Would my child be left without a mother?

The fear made everything worse. I couldn’t calm down because I didn’t feel ready to leave this earth. I hadn’t accomplished everything I dreamed of. I hadn’t fallen in love again. My son was still a child, and my life felt unfinished. Thinking about all of this while struggling to breathe sent me into a spiral of fear and desperation.
When these episodes happened again, my children knew to bring me water immediately. But the episodes became more frequent. They didn’t just wake me up in the middle of the night—they began disrupting my workouts and even my speaking engagements.
I’ve always been active. I worked out at least four times a week at the gym and walked up Stone Mountain one or two times a week. But now, even climbing the mountain left me clutching my chest, struggling for air. I knew something wasn’t right.
Then it started happening during my speaking engagements. I’d get extremely hot, gasping for air in the middle of a presentation. I’d have to stop, drink water, and lean on something just to stay upright. I felt helpless, like my body was betraying me. And yet, every time I sought answers, the doctors told me I was fine.
I remember scheduling a physical with one doctor, hoping they’d take me seriously. Instead, he declined to see me, saying I was taking up time on his half-day schedule. I left that office and cried in my car. I was desperate for answers, desperate to feel normal again. My body was in constant pain. I experienced blackouts, pounding headaches, and now I couldn’t even breathe properly. Yet no one connected the dots. No one linked my symptoms to my thyroid.
As a single mom in school, working to provide for my son and my niece, these health struggles weighed heavily on me. But I didn’t complain. I kept moving forward, taking care of my responsibilities. My son was thriving, and that gave me purpose. But I was silently fighting for my life, and no one knew.
Looking back now, I realize how much I endured to reach a diagnosis. No one saw the pain I carried, the battles I fought in silence.
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