A Journey Through Fatty Liver Disease and Rediscovering Life

I never thought liver disease would be a part of my story. But here I am, 43 years old, a mother, a professional, and now, a woman living with non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD). It's not something I expected, but in many ways, it has reshaped my life. I want to share my story—not just to vent, but to give hope to anyone else going through something similar.

Looking back, my health struggles began in my early 30s. I had always dealt with weight issues, but after giving birth to my son, things spiraled out of control. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes during my pregnancy, which was tough to manage. I chalked up my constant fatigue and mental fog to being a new mom, but it was more than that. My health kept declining, and soon, I found myself with a diagnosis of type 2 diabetes and, shortly after, NAFLD. I was terrified. A liver condition? Me? I’ve never been a heavy drinker, I exercised occasionally, and I ate somewhat healthy—or so I thought.

“I never thought liver disease would be part of my story.”

When I first heard "fatty liver disease," my mind went blank. I didn’t understand what it meant or how serious it was. I left the doctor’s office with no pamphlets, no real explanation, just a diagnosis. I was overwhelmed. The little I knew about liver disease was tied to alcoholism, and I wasn’t a drinker, so how did this happen?
Turns out, NAFLD is more common than we think, and it’s not just tied to alcohol consumption. It’s often linked to obesity, insulin resistance, and poor diet. In my case, the combination of gestational diabetes, postpartum weight gain, and stress had put me on this path. The hardest part was realizing this wasn’t just a phase—it was a chronic condition, and it was on me to manage it.

“The hardest part was realizing this wasn’t just a phase.”

The diagnosis didn’t just affect me physically; it took a huge toll on my mental health. I spent months feeling guilty—wondering how I had let this happen. I was constantly tired, irritable, and depressed. I felt like I was failing as a mother, as a wife, and as a woman. Every little task seemed monumental because my body was working against me.
I reached a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore. My liver was enlarged, and the pain became a daily reminder that I needed to change. It wasn’t just about losing weight or controlling my diabetes—it was about survival. I had to be here for my son. That’s when I decided to take control of my health in a way I never had before.

“I had to be here for my son.”

I dove into research, desperate for answers. I started reading about the liver, understanding how crucial it is to our body’s functioning. I learned that the liver can regenerate, and that gave me hope. If I made the right lifestyle changes, I could reverse some of the damage. The more I learned, the more empowered I felt.
I switched to a Mediterranean diet and cut out processed foods entirely. I started exercising—not in some extreme way, but small, manageable steps, like walking every day and building up from there. I had to retrain my mind to see food as fuel, not as comfort. For years, I had used food as a way to cope with stress, but now, food had to be part of the solution.

“I had to retrain my mind to see food as fuel, not as comfort.”

It wasn’t easy, but the changes made a difference. Slowly, I started to feel better. My liver enzymes improved, my diabetes became more manageable, and I regained energy I hadn’t felt in years. But the mental transformation was just as important. I learned to be kinder to myself, to take things one day at a time. This journey has taught me patience and resilience in ways I never expected.
Today, I’m still living with NAFLD, but it no longer defines me. I’ve embraced the changes I’ve made to my lifestyle, and I’m proud of the progress I’ve made. There are still tough days—fatigue doesn’t disappear overnight, and stress still creeps in—but I’ve learned to handle it better. My liver condition was a wake-up call, and while I wish I hadn’t needed it, I’m grateful for the lessons it’s taught me.