Author: theblessedovercomer

Welcome! My name is Todd OC Shoemaker. The OC is short for Overcomer. That’s the nickname my medical team gave me many years ago. You see, for the last 22 years, I have battled several life threatening health issues. On multiple occasions, my bride Laura has been told I would probably not make it through the night. Our faith has helped us run this crazy beautiful journey. We live with hope. I encourage you to run with me as I share my thoughts along the way. ~OC

When We Prayed For Everyone

I remember when churches prayed for presidents whether they voted for them or not.

We prayed for Democrats.

We prayed for Republicans.

We prayed for independents.

We prayed for people we agreed with.

We prayed for people we couldn’t understand.

We prayed for people who insulted us.

Because Jesus told us to pray for our enemies.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, we started praying more against people than for people.

We began treating political opponents like enemies of God.

But Jesus never handed us a ballot and said,

“Here is how you will know who your neighbor is.”

He handed us a command:

Love them.

I miss those days.

And I wonder what might happen if the Church started praying like Jesus again. ~OC

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A Day In My Life

Today’s a new day!

There are days when I wake up and have to remind myself that my body is not the same body I had years ago.

For most people, waking up is simply the beginning of another day. For me, waking up can feel like the beginning of another battle.

I live with Parkinson’s, Myasthenia Gravis, Gastroparesis and Dementia. Each condition brings its own challenges, and sometimes they seem to take turns—or work together—to remind me that this journey is anything but easy.

But there is something else I wake up with every morning:

Hope.

Morning Comes With Questions

Before my feet even hit the floor, I often have to figure out what kind of day my body is going to allow me to have.

Will my muscles cooperate today?

Will the Parkinson’s symptoms be manageable?

Will my mind be clear, or will dementia make the morning confusing?

Will my stomach tolerate food?

Will fatigue consume the energy I need just to get through the day?

These aren’t questions most people have to ask themselves when they wake up.

For me, they are part of everyday life.

Sometimes getting dressed takes longer than it should. Sometimes walking across a room requires concentration. Sometimes my body simply doesn’t want to cooperate with what my mind is telling it to do.

And yet, I get up.

Because I’m still here.

Even Breakfast Can Be a Battle

Gastroparesis has changed my relationship with food.

Something as simple as eating breakfast isn’t always simple. My stomach doesn’t always cooperate, and there are days when eating can leave me feeling miserable.

There are times when I wish I could just sit down and enjoy a normal meal without thinking about what it might do to my body afterward.

But I’ve learned that living with chronic illness means learning to adapt.

You make adjustments.

You listen to your body.

You celebrate the small victories.

Sometimes simply being able to eat something and keep it down is a victory.

Then There Is Fatigue

Myasthenia Gravis brings another level of unpredictability.

Fatigue isn’t always the kind of tiredness that a good night’s sleep fixes.

It can feel like my muscles have simply run out of strength.

Things that look incredibly easy from the outside can require tremendous effort on the inside.

Walking.

Standing.

Getting dressed.

Taking a shower.

Going through a normal day.

People may see me doing something and think, “That doesn’t look difficult.”

What they can’t see is the energy it may have taken for me to do it.

That’s one of the hardest things about invisible illness.

People see what you accomplish.

They don’t always see what it cost you.

Then There Is Dementia

Perhaps one of the most frightening parts of this journey is not always knowing whether my mind is going to cooperate.

There are moments when memories become difficult to retrieve.

There are moments of confusion.

There are moments when I know something should be familiar, but my mind doesn’t immediately connect the dots.

And that can be frightening.

There is a unique kind of frustration that comes when your mind doesn’t work the way you know it once did.

You know the information is somewhere inside you, but you can’t always reach it.

I’ve had to learn to be patient with myself.

I’ve had to learn that forgetting something doesn’t make me less valuable.

Confusion doesn’t make me less of a person.

And needing help doesn’t make me weak.

Some Days Are Better Than Others

That’s probably one of the biggest lessons chronic illness has taught me.

No two days are exactly alike.

Some days I accomplish more than I expected.

Other days, simply getting through the day is the accomplishment.

And I’ve learned not to measure the value of my life by how much I accomplish.

My worth isn’t determined by how productive I am.

My worth isn’t determined by how fast I walk.

My worth isn’t determined by how clearly I speak.

My worth isn’t determined by what my diseases have taken from me.

My worth comes from God.

And that changes everything.

I Still Have Things To Do

One of the greatest mistakes we can make when facing a long-term health battle is believing that our lives are over.

They’re not.

They may look different.

The dreams may have to change.

The pace may have to change.

The plans may have to change.

But our purpose doesn’t disappear simply because our bodies change.

I may not be able to do everything I once did.

But I can still encourage someone.

I can still love my family.

I can still pray.

I can still write.

I can still share my story.

I can still remind someone else that they aren’t alone.

And maybe that’s part of my purpose.

Maybe the scars from this journey aren’t just reminders of what I’ve survived.

Maybe they’re opportunities to help someone else survive their own battle.

Some Days I Get Tired

I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

There are days when I’m tired of being tired.

There are days when I wish I could have just one completely normal day.

One day without thinking about symptoms.

One day without wondering what my body is going to do.

One day without having to calculate how much energy something will require.

One day without my mind playing tricks on me.

But even on those days, I remind myself:

I’m still here.

And as long as I’m here, there is still purpose.

My Life Isn’t Defined By My Diseases

Parkinson’s is something I live with.

Myasthenia Gravis is something I live with.

Gastroparesis is something I live with.

Dementia is something I live with.

But none of those things gets to define who I am.

I am more than my medical chart.

I am more than my symptoms.

I am more than my limitations.

I am more than the difficult days.

I am a husband.

I am a friend.

I am a child of God.

I am an overcomer.

And I am still walking this journey one day at a time.

If You’re Walking A Similar Journey

If you’re reading this while living with Parkinson’s, Myasthenia Gravis, Gastroparesis, Dementia, or another chronic illness, I want you to know something:

You are not your diagnosis.

Don’t be ashamed of needing help.

Don’t feel guilty for resting.

Don’t compare your journey to someone else’s.

Don’t beat yourself up because today wasn’t as productive as yesterday.

Give yourself grace.

Celebrate the little victories.

And when all you can do today is get out of bed and make it through the day, remember that sometimes surviving the day is a victory worth celebrating.

And For Me, There Is Still Hope

My faith doesn’t mean I pretend this journey is easy.

It means I don’t have to walk through it alone.

There are days when I don’t understand why God has allowed this journey to be so long.

There are days when I am exhausted.

There are days when I have questions.

But I continue to hold onto God’s promises.

I continue to believe that my life has purpose.

I continue to believe that my story can encourage someone else.

And I continue to wake up every morning and say:

“God, I’m still here. Use me.”

That’s what a day in my life looks like.

It’s messy.

It’s unpredictable.

It’s exhausting.

Sometimes it’s painful.

Sometimes it’s confusing.

But it is also filled with moments of grace, love, laughter, faith and hope.

And tomorrow morning, when I wake up, I will do it all over again.

Not because this journey is easy.

But because I’m still here.

And as long as God gives me another day, I intend to live it with purpose.

I may have Parkinson’s.
I may have Myasthenia Gravis.
I may have Gastroparesis.
I may have Dementia.
But I am not defeated.

I am still walking.

I am still fighting.

I am still believing.

I am still hoping.

I am still an Overcomer. ~OC

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Mud, Spit and the American Church

Today’s a new day!

I grew up in a different generation.

We played in the dirt until the streetlights came on. We climbed trees, rode our bikes without helmets, scraped our knees, and somehow survived. We came home covered in mud, sweat, and stories.

If you had something on your face, chances are your mom or grandma would lick her thumb or use a little spit to wipe it away before anyone else noticed. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was an act of love. Nobody thought twice about it.

It was a simpler time.

I also grew up in churches where pastors weren’t trying to become celebrities. They weren’t worried about likes, followers, or building a personal brand. They opened the Bible, preached the truth, called people to repentance, and pointed everyone to Jesus. Sometimes the sermons made you uncomfortable. Sometimes they stepped on your toes. But you left knowing you had encountered God’s Word, not just another motivational speech.

Today, so much has changed.

Many children rarely play outside. Screens have replaced backyards. Adventure has been traded for entertainment.

Many parents would never imagine using spit to clean a child’s face. We’ve become increasingly concerned with appearances, convenience, and comfort.

And sadly, much of the American Church has changed too.

Far too many pulpits have exchanged the Gospel for self-improvement.

Messages about sin have been replaced with messages about success. Repentance has been replaced with positive thinking. The cross has been overshadowed by personal branding. 

Instead of shepherds feeding the flock, many churches have become stages where personalities perform.

People leave feeling inspired—but not transformed.

Yet when I read Scripture, I find something fascinating.

Jesus wasn’t afraid of mud.

In fact, one of His miracles involved making mud with His own saliva.

He spit on the ground, mixed the dirt into mud, placed it on a blind man’s eyes, and told him to go wash. When the man obeyed, he came back seeing.

Think about that for a moment.

The Creator of the universe could have simply spoken a word.

Instead, He chose mud.

He chose spit.

Something ordinary.

Something people might even consider offensive.

Because God has always been in the business of using unlikely things to display His glory.

The Gospel itself is offensive to human pride.

It tells us we cannot save ourselves.

It tells us we must die to ourselves.

It tells us that forgiveness came through a bloody cross.

None of that fits neatly into today’s culture of comfort and self-esteem.

But it is still the power of God.

The American Church doesn’t need better marketing.

It doesn’t need cooler stages.

It doesn’t need more polished personalities.

It needs pastors who love truth more than applause.

It needs believers who desire holiness more than popularity.

It needs people who are willing to get their hands dirty serving others instead of polishing their own image.

Maybe we’ve become so obsessed with looking clean that we’ve forgotten the One who still isn’t afraid to kneel in the dirt.

Jesus still meets broken people.

He still restores blind eyes.

He still heals wounded hearts.

He still calls sinners to Himself.

The method may not always look impressive.

The process may not always be comfortable.

But His power hasn’t changed.

Perhaps it’s time for the Church to stop trying to impress the culture and start looking more like Christ again.

Maybe what we need isn’t another life coach with a Bible verse.

Maybe we need shepherds who will faithfully preach the whole counsel of God-even when it’s unpopular. 

Maybe we need believers who aren’t afraid of a little mud if it means someone finally sees Jesus. 

Because sometimes, God still chooses mud.

Sometimes, He still uses spit. 

And He has always used ordinary people surrendered to an extraordinary Savior. 

Lord, may Your Church once again become known—not for its polish, but for its faithfulness. Give us courage to speak truth with love, humility to serve without recognition, and hearts that care more about Your glory than our comfort. Amen. ~OC

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If We Love Our Troops, The Let’s Prove It

I keep hearing politicians say that they love our troops. I hear the speeches. I see the flags. I hear the words “Thank you for your service.” But at some point, we have to stop listening to what our leaders say and start paying attention to what their actions are telling us.

Because if we truly love our troops, then we need to start acting like it.

Right now, the USS Abraham Lincoln has been deployed for an extraordinary length of time, with reports raising concerns about conditions aboard the ship, including supply shortages and mental-health struggles. The current administration continuously dismisses concerns about the length of the deployment, with comments like “not nearly long enough.”

That should concern every American.

These aren’t political pawns.

These aren’t numbers on a military briefing.

These aren’t pieces on a chessboard.

They are our sons and daughters. Our husbands and wives. Our fathers and mothers. Our brothers and sisters. They are Americans.

And when we send them into harm’s way, we have a responsibility to make sure they have everything they need—not only to accomplish their mission, but to come home safely.

We also have a responsibility to those who have already served.

Veterans should never have to fight another battle simply to receive the healthcare, benefits, mental-health support, housing assistance, or other services they earned through their sacrifice. There are currently bipartisan efforts in Congress aimed at improving veterans’ healthcare, benefits, and services, which shows that solutions are possible when leaders choose to prioritize the people who served.

But this shouldn’t be a Republican issue.

It shouldn’t be a Democratic issue.

It shouldn’t be a conservative issue or a liberal issue.

It should be an American issue.

We can disagree about wars.

We can disagree about presidents.

We can disagree about military policy.

We can disagree about politics.

But surely we can agree on one thing:

America should take care of the people who put their lives on the line to protect America.

When a young man or woman raises their right hand and takes the oath to serve this nation, they are making a tremendous sacrifice. They are giving the government something that can never truly be repaid—their time, their freedom, their health, and potentially their life.

So when they come home, our obligation doesn’t end.

When they leave the battlefield, the battle may continue inside them.

Some carry physical wounds.

Some carry invisible wounds.

Some struggle with PTSD.

Some struggle to find employment.

Some struggle with homelessness.

Some struggle with addiction.

Some struggle with the transition back into civilian life.

And some simply struggle because the person who came home isn’t the same person who left.

We owe them better.

And to our active-duty troops: you deserve better too.

You deserve leaders who understand that military readiness isn’t simply about weapons, budgets, or deployments. It is also about morale, leadership, adequate rest, healthcare, family support, and making sure the people serving this nation aren’t treated as expendable.

The Congressional Budget Office estimates that the president’s 2026 budget request includes $718 billion in total military compensation, including $277 billion for the Department of Defense and $441 billion for the Department of Veterans Affairs.

That’s a tremendous amount of money.

But the question isn’t simply how much we spend.

The question is how effectively we use those resources to take care of the people who serve.

Because saying “We love our troops” is easy.

Putting that love into action is harder.

Love looks like making sure a sailor deployed for months has adequate food, supplies, medical care, and mental-health support.

Love looks like making sure a soldier doesn’t have to fight bureaucracy for the benefits they earned.

Love looks like making sure military families aren’t forgotten.

Love looks like listening when veterans tell us something is wrong.

Love looks like holding leaders accountable—regardless of their political party.

And maybe that’s the question we need to ask ourselves:

When are the American people finally going to wake up?

When are we going to stop allowing politicians to wrap themselves in American flags and use our troops as political props while failing to demand accountability?

When are we going to stop applauding the words and start measuring the actions?

I don’t care what political party a president belongs to.

I don’t care what political party controls Congress.

If you send Americans into battle, take care of them.

If you ask Americans to sacrifice for this country, honor that sacrifice.

If you call our troops heroes, treat them like heroes.

And when those heroes come home, don’t simply shake their hand, take a picture, and tell them “Thank you for your service.”

Be there for them.

We don’t need more political slogans.

We need action.

We need accountability.

We need compassion.

We need leadership.

Most importantly, we need to remember that behind every uniform is a human being.

So yes, I will always honor our troops.

I will always honor our veterans.

I will always stand with the families who sacrifice alongside them.

And I will continue asking uncomfortable questions when I believe our military members and veterans aren’t being treated with the dignity they deserve.

Because loving America means loving the people who have sacrificed to protect it.

And that’s the least we can do for these American heroes.

Don’t just tell our troops you love them.

Prove it. ~OC

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Live It Up

Today’s a new day!

As I continue to walk out this crazy, beautiful, unpredictable health journey, I’ve come to a decision:

I’ve decided to live it up.

Not someday.

Not when everything gets better.

Not when my body cooperates, the doctors have all the answers, or life finally becomes easier.

Now.

Because if this journey has taught me anything, it’s that tomorrow is never guaranteed—and waiting for the perfect circumstances to start living is one of the greatest ways to miss the life happening right in front of us.

I’ve spent enough time dealing with battles, setbacks, disappointments, appointments, treatments, uncertainty, and days when simply getting through the day felt like an accomplishment.

But I refuse to let the hard parts steal all the beautiful parts.

Yes, I have limitations.

Yes, there are things I can no longer do.

Yes, some days are harder than others.

But there is still so much I can do.

There are people I can love.

Memories I can make.

Stories I can tell.

Music I can create.

Laughter I can share.

Sunsets I can stop and appreciate.

Adventures I can still take.

Prayers I can still pray.

And a whole lot of living left to do.

So I’m changing the question.

Instead of asking, “What can’t I do anymore?”

I’m asking:

“What can I do today that makes this life worth celebrating?”

That changes everything.

Living it up doesn’t mean ignoring reality.

It doesn’t mean pretending the struggle doesn’t exist.

It means refusing to allow the struggle to become the only thing I see.

It means finding joy wherever I can find it.

It means celebrating the small victories.

It means laughing loudly.

Loving deeply.

Forgiving freely.

Making memories.

Taking pictures.

Hugging the people who matter.

Telling people I love them while I have the opportunity.

And squeezing every drop of meaning, purpose, joy, and gratitude out of this crazy beautiful life.

My health journey may have changed my definition of strength.

It certainly changed my definition of success.

These days, success isn’t necessarily about accomplishing something extraordinary.

Sometimes success is simply waking up and saying:

“Today, I’m going to live.”

And then actually doing it.

I don’t know how many chapters are left in my story.

That’s okay.

I don’t need to know.

I just want to make the chapters I have count.

I want to leave footprints of love.

I want to collect memories instead of regrets.

I want to choose experiences over excuses whenever I can.

I want to celebrate the people who have walked beside me.

And I want to look back someday and know that I didn’t spend my life waiting for life to begin.

I lived it.

The whole crazy, beautiful, messy, miraculous thing.

So yes…

I’m still walking through the battle.

But I’m also going to dance when I can.

Laugh when I can.

Travel when I can.

Create when I can.

Love with everything I’ve got.

And celebrate every single blessing I can find.

Because life isn’t waiting for me to become healthy enough, strong enough, or perfect enough to enjoy it.

Life is happening right now.

And I’ve decided I’m going to show up for it.

I’m going to live boldly.

Love fiercely.

Laugh often.

Make memories.

Count blessings.

Chase moments.

And squeeze every beautiful drop out of the time I’ve been given.

I don’t just want to survive this journey.

I want to LIVE it.

So bring on the crazy.

Bring on the beautiful.

Bring on the unexpected.

Bring on the memories we haven’t made yet.

Because as long as I’m here…

I’m going to live it up. ~OC

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The Sermon That Changed Everything

I remember a pastor preaching a sermon that had nothing to do with Washington.

No politicians were mentioned.

No political party was attacked.

No election was discussed.

Instead, the pastor opened the Bible and said:

“Love your neighbor.”

Then he talked about the widow.

The orphan.

The prisoner.

The hungry.

The lonely.

The forgotten.

He reminded us that following Jesus wasn’t about winning arguments.

It was about becoming more like Christ.

People walked out of that church talking about what Jesus had said.

Not what a politician had tweeted.

Not what Congress had done.

Not what political battle was coming next.

Just Jesus.

I miss those sermons.

I miss a Christianity that didn’t need a political enemy to feel spiritually alive. ~OC

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Grit, Faith and Determination

Today’s a new day!

Some battles don’t come with warning.

They arrive quietly—or sometimes all at once—and suddenly you find yourself standing in the middle of something you never expected to face.

I’m in one of those seasons right now.

But here’s what I’ve learned: a tough battle doesn’t have to steal your hope.

I’m choosing to stay positive. I’m choosing to keep moving forward. And I’m choosing to lean—not because I am weak, but because I understand that none of us were created to walk through the hardest seasons of life alone.

I am incredibly grateful for my family and friends who continue to stand beside me.

Your prayers, messages, encouragement, phone calls, hugs, and simple reminders that you’re there mean more than I can put into words. Sometimes you may think you’re just sending a quick message or saying a quick prayer, but to someone in the middle of a difficult battle, those little things can become lifelines.

Your support means the world to me.

There will be difficult days. There will be moments when the road ahead looks intimidating. There may even be times when I have to take things one day—or one moment—at a time.

But I refuse to let the battle define me.

I want my response to adversity to be defined by grit, faith, courage, and determination.

Grit says, Keep going.

Faith says, God is still here.

Determination says, I’m not finished.

And love reminds me that I’m not walking this road alone.

I don’t know exactly what tomorrow will bring. But I know I don’t have to face tomorrow by myself.

So, to my family, my friends, my prayer warriors, and everyone who has taken the time to encourage me:

Thank you.

Thank you for believing in me when the battle gets heavy.

Thank you for standing beside me when I’m tired.

Thank you for praying when I don’t have the words.

Thank you for reminding me that there is still something worth fighting for.

And most importantly, thank you for walking beside me.

This is not about pretending everything is easy.

It’s about facing what is difficult without surrendering our hope.

It’s about acknowledging the battle while refusing to give the battle the final word.

So here we go.

One day at a time.

One prayer at a time.

One step at a time.

With grit.
With faith.
With determination.
And with a whole lot of love surrounding us.

The battle may be tough.

But I’m tougher than the battle.

And with God, family, friends, and an army of people standing beside me, we’re going to face this together.

Let’s tackle it.

Not with fear.

Not with surrender.

But with grit, faith, and determination.

And whatever tomorrow brings, we’ll meet it together. ~OC

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Face Fear. Find Freedom.

Fear may whisper,
“Turn around, don’t go.”
But faith says,
“Take the step—
there’s freedom where you go.”

Face the darkness,
walk through the pain,
trust that the storm
won’t always remain.

For courage begins
when fear loses control—
sometimes you must face fear
to set free your soul. ~OC

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Lack of Leadership

There is something deeply troubling about what we are seeing within our United States military.

The men and women who volunteer to serve our nation deserve better than political distractions, culture-war battles, and leadership that seems more interested in appearances than in the people entrusted to its care.

What happens in an organization is often a reflection of its leadership—from the head down.

When leadership loses sight of the mission, the people eventually pay the price.

Our military exists to defend this nation. It exists to protect Americans, deter our enemies, respond to threats, and ensure that the United States remains capable of defending itself in an increasingly dangerous world.

That should be the priority.

So when military leadership appears more focused on debates over the color or gender of our soldiers than on their readiness, morale, training, equipment, mental wellbeing, and ability to accomplish the mission, I believe we have a serious leadership problem.

And when tragic incidents occur aboard ships such as the USS Abraham Lincoln, we should be asking hard questions.

Not partisan questions.

Not political questions.

Leadership questions.

Are our sailors adequately trained?

Do they have the resources they need?

Are maintenance and readiness being taken seriously?

Are commanders being held accountable?

Are we listening to the people actually serving aboard these ships?

Are we spending our defense dollars where they will make the greatest difference?

Those questions matter far more to me than whatever political culture war happens to dominate the headlines this week.

Our service members don’t need Washington to constantly find another distraction.

They need leadership.

They need leaders who understand that behind every uniform is a human being—a son, daughter, husband, wife, father, mother, brother, sister, friend, and fellow American.

They deserve leaders who will fight for their wellbeing as fiercely as they expect those service members to fight for our country.

And this isn’t an argument against sports, entertainment, or morale events. Our troops deserve opportunities to relax and enjoy themselves. They deserve camaraderie and moments of fun.

But there is a difference between supporting morale and allowing distractions to become substitutes for leadership.

Dear military leadership: let’s spend more time and money addressing the problems that are actually affecting our military and less time chasing political headlines, building extravagant ballrooms, or putting the spotlight on MMA fights.

Let’s invest in readiness.

Let’s invest in maintenance.

Let’s invest in training.

Let’s invest in our sailors, soldiers, Marines, airmen, guardians, and Coast Guard members.

Let’s make sure they have the equipment, resources, leadership, and support they need to come home safely.

And let’s remember something incredibly important:

The military does not belong to a political party.

It belongs to the American people.

The uniform doesn’t belong to Republicans or Democrats. It belongs to the men and women who raised their right hand and swore an oath to defend the Constitution.

They deserve leadership that takes that oath as seriously as they do.

America doesn’t need leaders who are constantly looking for the next culture war to fight.

America needs leaders willing to fight for the people who actually fight for America.

Our service members deserve nothing less. ~OC

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Through A Different Lens

Today’s a new day!

Another night of very little sleep, so I found myself awake rewatching the amazing documentary Photography No. 24: Ken Griffey Jr. at the Masters.

Ken Griffey Jr. has always been one of my favorite players, especially during his days with my Cincinnati Reds. There is something special about watching someone with that kind of passion, talent, and eye for the moment.

And it got me thinking about something I have always enjoyed: photography.

I love seeing a beautiful photograph. You know the kind I mean—the one that makes you stop scrolling, stare at it for a moment, and maybe even takes your breath away.

I’ve taken some pretty good photos with my iPhone over the years, but lately I’ve been thinking about taking photography a little more seriously.

As I continue dealing with Parkinson’s, Myasthenia Gravis, and now Dementia, I have had to accept that I am no longer able to run. Running was a huge part of my life, and losing that ability has been difficult.

But maybe this is an opportunity to discover something new.

Maybe I can trade running for photography.

And there is another reason this idea excites me.

I am having more trouble with my voice these days. Sometimes finding the words or getting them out the way I want to can be difficult.

But a photograph doesn’t need a voice.

A photograph can speak.

It can tell a story.
It can capture emotion.
It can make someone stop and think.
It can show beauty in places we might otherwise overlook.

And perhaps photography could give me another way to raise awareness about Parkinson’s, Myasthenia Gravis, and Dementia.

I could use the images I capture to tell stories about this journey, while also reminding people that there is still beauty to be found in the middle of difficult circumstances.

I’ll be working with a limited budget, so I would really appreciate any suggestions from photographers or people who know cameras.

What would you recommend for someone getting started? What older or affordable cameras would be good to experiment with?

And if anyone has an older camera, lenses, tripod, camera bag, or other photography equipment sitting around that you aren’t using anymore and would be interested in donating, I would be incredibly grateful.

I don’t need the newest or most expensive equipment.

I just need an opportunity to learn.

I’m honestly excited about the possibilities.

Maybe I can’t run anymore, but I can still chase moments.

Maybe my voice is becoming quieter, but I can still tell stories.

Maybe my body has changed the way I move through this world, but it hasn’t taken away my desire to find beauty in it.

So perhaps this is the beginning of a new adventure.

A new journey.
A new creative outlet.
A new way to speak.
A new way to raise awareness.
A new way to see.

And who knows?

Maybe the next beautiful photograph I take will tell a story that words never could. ~OC ❤️📸

#Photography #ParkinsonsAwareness #MyastheniaGravis #DementiaAwareness #CincinnatiReds #KenGriffeyJr #PhotographyJourney #Overcomer #NeverGiveUp #FindTheBeauty #NewBeginnings

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