Four years ago, I was in the best shape of my life—running miles, strong, and finally feeling like I had real control over my health. Then, one day, I felt something strange in my chest. It passed after 16 hours, but returned a few days later. I brushed it off, thinking it was nothing. Months passed before I finally went to the ER and found out I had Afib. My body had been overproducing adrenaline to compensate, likely triggered by months of extreme stress—pastoring a church during the height of COVID, supporting people in crisis, carrying the weight of everyone else’s anxiety. What followed was the most vulnerable chapter of my life. I suddenly couldn’t do simple things without fearing I’d end up back in the hospital. I had never struggled with anxiety before, but now it was in my bones. I remember one moment so clearly—sitting on the edge of my bed a few days before my son’s seventh birthday, weeping. I was terrified I’d ruin his day. What if I had another episode at the party? What if I had to go to the ER in front of him? What if I couldn’t keep the promises we made for that day? I felt like life had completely collapsed, like I couldn’t move forward anymore. It took time, trial and error with medication, a heart procedure, and the support of my family to begin healing. This past year was my first full year without an episode. The fear still flares up sometimes, but I’ve learned to live again—even with the uncertainty. If you’ve had your life turned upside down by a health scare, I’d love to sit with you in that space where everything feels broken and help you figure out what comes next.