Hope is choosing to believe better days still exist

One thing about me?

I’m not letting go of hope.

Not now.
Not after everything I’ve survived already.

And honestly…

I don’t even think I’m chasing the old version of myself anymore.

I’m not trying to get back to 100% of who I was.

I’m trying to become 100% of who I am now.

That shift changed everything.

Because yes, there may still be limitations.

There may still be management.

There may still be difficult days.

But I believe healing is still possible.

Improvement is still possible.

And I refuse to let that belief die.

Part of that comes from experience.

Because over these seven years with fibromyalgia…

I’ve had moments where the pain nearly disappeared.

Real moments.

I was moving.
Walking.
Playing basketball again.

Feeling good.

Not perfect but good.

And the wild thing?

I was doing the same things I’d already been doing.

Trying to stay positive.
Trying different routines.
Giving myself grace.
Holding on through the hard moments.

And then suddenly…

My body shifted.

Those moments lasted almost two months at times.

So no…

I can’t tell you exactly why it happened.

But I can tell you this:

Hope gets stronger when you’ve already experienced relief before.

And now?

I feel even more hopeful.

Because for the first time, I feel like someone is truly digging deeper into my health story.

My naturopathic doctor gives me hope.

She’s not just treating symptoms.

She’s trying to understand the root.

And after years of feeling misunderstood by doctors, systems, and people…

That means something.

But honestly?

A huge part of this is mindset too.

I’m not a quitter.

Never have been.

I’m the type of person that adjusts.
Learns.
Pivots.
Keeps moving.

Even when life changes the game.

And sharing this journey publicly has helped too.

Seeing comments.
Hearing other stories.
Learning what helps other people.

There’s power in community.

Especially when the world makes invisible illness feel invisible.

But if I’m dreaming?

There’s one thing I want back more than anything:

Basketball.

Man…

I miss the court.

I miss running.

The cardio.
The movement.
The speed.

I miss reading plays and making passes.

Being physical on defense.

Talking trash. Laughing. Competing.

I miss feeling athletic.

I miss feeling free inside my body.

And I truly believe one day I’ll touch the court again.

Maybe not the same way.

Maybe not for hours.

But enough to feel that joy again.

I also can’t wait to perform again.

Not just as an artist…

But as a keynote concert speaker.

Sharing my story.

Speaking life into people.

Then performing the music afterward.

That combination?

That feels like purpose.

And honestly…

I just miss mobility.

Being able to go places without overthinking everything.

Without preparing for every possible symptom.

Without wondering:

“What if I crash tomorrow?”
“What if I don’t sleep tonight?”
“What if my body shuts down while I’m out?”

That level of planning gets exhausting.

So I dream about freedom too.

Simple freedom.

This journey taught me something important though:

Life really is different for everybody.

Some people move through life without ever thinking about their body.

Others are fighting every day just to feel normal.

And because of that…

I’ve become more empathetic.

More aware.

More intentional.

I also realized something hard:

People can suck.

Not everybody knows how to show up.

Not everybody understands suffering.

And honestly?

A lot of people only engage when something benefits them.

But I also understand why.

Environment shapes people.

Experience shapes compassion.

If someone never had to care for somebody sick…

Sometimes they genuinely don’t know how.

That’s part of why I keep sharing.

Because representation matters.

A Black man.
A music entrepreneur.
A creative.
A man with invisible disabilities.

Still showing up.

Still building.

Still smiling.

Still trying.

That matters.

Because a lot of people couldn’t survive what I’m experiencing.

Not just physically.

Mentally too.

Spiritually too.

And if me sharing my story helps even one person hold on a little longer…

Then it’s worth it.

So I keep dancing through the struggle.

I keep loving in the darkness.

And I keep showing up.

Even on my worst days.

Sometimes especially on those days.

Because if I’m hurting…

There’s a good chance somebody else is too.

And maybe they need somebody to remind them:

“You’re not done yet.”

Final Thought:
Hope isn’t pretending life is easy. Hope is believing healing is still possible while you’re fighting through the hardest season of your life.