In 2021, my life changed in a way I never expected.

I remember the moment I first realized something wasn't right. My heart would suddenly race for no reason - not after running, not after stress, not after anything that made sense. It felt like my chest was trying to keep up with a pace my body wasn't even moving at. At first, I brushed it off. I told myself it was anxiety, exhaustion, too steps anything but something serious.

But it kept happening.

The pounding became impossible to ignore. There were moments I'd sit completely still and feel my heartbeat slam like I had just sprinted a mile. I'd feel lightheaded, shaky, and scared - the kind of fear that settles deep in your bones because you can't control what's happening inside your own body.

Eventually, I went in for answers.

When I was diagnosed with tachycardia in 2021, it was both a relief and a heartbreak. Relief because I finally had a name for what I was feeling… but heartbreak because it meant it was real. It wasn't "just in my head." It wasn't something I could simply shake off with rest or positivity.

It was my heart.

And suddenly, something I had always trusted without thinking became something I was afraid of.

That season was one of the hardest trials I've ever faced. There were appointments, tests, medications, questions, and so many unknowns. I learned what it feels like to be exhausted from fear. I learned how quickly your world can shift when your health is uncertain. I learned how vulnerable life truly is.

Some days, I felt strong. Other days, I felt like I was living minute to minute, listening to my heartbeat and wondering if it would ever feel normal again.

But through that trial, something else began to grow in me too: gratitude.

Because even though it was scary, it forced me to slow down. It forced me to listen to my body. It forced me to take my health seriously. And it made me realize how precious every single heartbeat really is.

That's why the American Heart Association means so much to me.

It's not just an organization. To me, it represents hope. It represents research, education, and awareness for people like me who never thought they'd have a heart story to tell. It represents the doctors having better tools, the patients having better support, and families having more time together.

After my diagnosis, I realized heart health isn't something to take for granted. It's something worth fighting for. Worth learning about. Worth advocating for.

The American Heart Association reminds me that I wasn't alone in that journey - that there are millions of people walking similar paths, and there are people dedicating their lives to making sure we have answers, treatment, and a future.

My tachycardia diagnosis was a trial that tested me physically, emotionally, and mentally. It shook my confidence and changed the way I see my own body. But it also made me stronger. It made me more aware. And it gave me a deeper appreciation for life.

Now, every time I see anything connected to the American Heart Association, it feels personal.

Because I know what it's like to feel your heart race and wonder if something is wrong. I know what it's like to sit in fear, waiting for results. I know what it's like to pray for stability, healing, and peace.

And I also know what it's like to come out on the other side with a new perspective.

A stronger one.

My heart may have struggled, but it also taught me something powerful: life is fragile, but it's also worth protecting - one beat at a time.