When Everything Changed, My Journey with Fatty Liver Disease and Survival

I never thought my life would change so dramatically. I was a young woman, with dreams and ambitions just like everyone else. My life took a turn I couldn’t have predicted, one that nearly destroyed me and, at the same time, made me stronger than I ever thought possible.

The first sign something was wrong came when I started feeling exhausted all the time. I brushed it off—who isn’t tired in their twenties? I was working long hours, juggling school and a social life. I told myself it was nothing to worry about. But then the pain started. A dull ache in my right side that wouldn’t go away. It was more annoying than anything, so I ignored it. I was too busy to be sick.

Then came the nausea. The kind that sits heavy in your stomach, twisting and turning until you can barely eat. My friends began to notice I wasn’t myself. I was losing weight, and my skin had a strange yellowish tint. But still, I didn’t go to the doctor. I was too stubborn, too afraid of what I might hear.

"I waited too long."

By the time I was diagnosed, it was almost too late. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office as they explained I had fatty liver disease. I was stunned. I didn’t drink much, I wasn’t obese, so how could this be happening to me? I didn’t fit the stereotype. But there it was, staring me in the face, a condition that was slowly killing me, and I had no idea.
The worst part wasn’t just the physical pain. It was the shame. I felt like I had done this to myself. The whispers from people who knew, the sideways glances—it all felt like judgment. I kept asking myself, How did I let it get this bad?

"I didn’t see it coming."

My family didn’t know how to react. My mom cried, my dad was quiet, and my friends? Well, they started pulling away. People don’t know how to handle illness, especially when it’s something they can’t see or fully understand. I felt alone, isolated in a way that went beyond the disease. It was as if my life was divided into two parts—before fatty liver and after.
The hospital visits started to feel like home. Blood tests, ultrasounds, biopsies—each one more invasive than the last. I was poked and prodded until I felt like a lab rat. I remember one night lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, thinking this was it. This was my life now. I was terrified.

"The fear was overwhelming."

Fatty liver disease didn’t just affect my body, it attacked my mind. Depression crept in, slowly at first, then all at once. I didn’t want to get out of bed; I didn’t see the point. My future felt like a dark, endless tunnel, and I couldn’t see the light at the end of it.
But I fought. I had to. For myself, for my family. I made a decision: I wasn’t going to let this disease define me. I started taking control of my life again, making changes to my diet, exercising, and most importantly, seeking help for my mental health.

"I’m not alone."

I realized I wasn’t the only one going through this. There are so many others out there, struggling in silence, ashamed to admit they’re sick. But we don’t have to go through it alone. Talking about fatty liver disease, bringing awareness to it—that’s how we start to heal, as individuals and as a community.
Now, I’m in recovery. My liver function has improved, and I feel more like myself than I have in years. It’s a long road, and there are still days when I feel weak, when the old fear creeps back in. But I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m not giving up.

Fatty liver disease took a lot from me, but it didn’t take everything. I still have my life, my loved ones, and a future to look forward to. If you’re reading this and you’re struggling, know this: you can get through it. You are stronger than you think.