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For years, I wanted answers. I went from doctor to doctor, trying to explain what I was feeling and figure out why I was dealing with so much pain. I was told it was stress, anxiety, or migraines. There were times when I wondered if I would ever find out what was actually going on. Then, in 2021, I finally received a diagnosis: Chiari Malformation type 1. After so many years of searching, you would think finally having an answer would bring nothing but relief. In some ways, i

After years of questions, uncertainty, and wondering what was happening inside my own body, I finally had an answer. Chiari Malformation. Two words that explained so much of what I had been experiencing for years. But receiving a diagnosis is a strange thing. You spend so much time wishing for answers, believing that once you finally have a name for what is happening, everything will feel easier. And in some ways, it does. There is relief in knowing you weren't imagining it.

For years, I walked into doctor's appointments hoping this would finally be the one. The one where someone would have an answer. The one where someone would look beyond another prescription or another "let's wait and see." The one where I would finally leave feeling like I had been heard. Most of the time, I left disappointed. After a while, I stopped expecting much. I still went to appointments because I knew something wasn't right, but I learned to guard my expectations. It

Today is the day. After years of living this story, a year and a half of writing it, and countless moments of wondering if I should really put it all on paper, I can finally say it: My memoir is officially here. 💜 Today, September 5th, It’s All In Your Head: Enduring Pain, Embracing Christ: Living with Chiari Malformation is officially available. And honestly, it feels a little surreal. For years, my story was something I was simply living. It was the headaches, the dizzines

September is Chiari Malformation Awareness Month. For me, this month means more than sharing facts or wearing a color. It is a reminder of a decade of symptoms, unanswered questions, countless appointments, and learning how to live in a body that often felt like it was working against me. It is also a reminder of how much I wish people understood about Chiari Malformation. So, this month, I want to share a few things I wish everyone knew. 1. You can’t always see it. One of th

When people think about chronic illness, they usually think about the big things. The doctor's appointments. The medications. The surgeries. Those things are definitely part of the story. But honestly? Some of the hardest losses weren't the big ones. They were the little things I never thought twice about until they were gone. Leaving the house without thinking about it. Most people grab their keys and head out the door. I grabbed my sunglasses, ibuprofen, Icy Hot patches, mi

There is a strange tension that comes with chronic illness: the space between two things that feel like they shouldn't go together. Hope. And reality. I had hope that God could heal me. But the reality was that I was still waking up every day with pain I couldn't explain. I was still searching for answers. I was still wondering how long I would have to live this way. When my symptoms first started, I didn't know what was happening. I just knew something wasn't right. The head

If you've ever lived with a chronic illness, there's a good chance you've heard those five words before. "But you don't look sick." Most of the time, people don't mean to be hurtful when they say it. They're trying to make sense of something they can't see. To them, you look healthy. You're smiling. You're standing. You're at church, work, or the grocery store. So they assume you're okay. But what they don't see is everything it took just to get there. They don't see the head

I used to think friendship was mostly built in the easy moments. The late-night conversations. The spontaneous plans. The inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else. The celebrations, adventures, and memories that filled up our calendars. But chronic pain taught me something different: the strongest friendships are not always the ones built when life is easy. They are the ones that remain when life gets complicated. When my symptoms first started, I didn’t understand what

If I could sit down with the younger version of myself, the girl who spent years going from doctor to doctor looking for answers, I know exactly what I would tell her. Not because I have all the answers now. But because there are things I spent years believing that simply weren't true. If you're in the middle of your own search for answers, I hope these are the five things you need to hear today. 1. Your pain is not "all in your head." Keep going back. There were so many appo

I spent years searching for answers before I was finally diagnosed with Chiari Malformation. During that time, I became really good at being prepared. I never knew when a headache would hit, how long it would last, or what might make it a little more manageable. So before I left the house, I made sure my bag had a few essentials. None of these things treated what was actually causing my headaches. They were simply the things that helped me get through school, college, church,

People ask me sometimes, "How did you manage for so long?" The honest answer? I don't know. When you're living with symptoms every single day, you don't really get to choose whether you're going to keep going. Life doesn't stop because you're waiting for a diagnosis. I was just trying to be a normal teenager. I wanted to go to school, hang out with my friends, cheer at games, study for tests, and eventually make it through college. Instead, I was constantly trying to figure o

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had gotten used to not being believed. Not all at once. It happened slowly. One appointment at a time. One “everything looks normal” at a time. One moment of trying to explain what was going on inside my body and watching it get brushed off And after a while… you start to adjust to that. You start to prepare for it. I remember going into doctor’s appointments and trying so hard to explain myself clearly. I would think through everything

I was fourteen when I first remember thinking, something doesn't feel right. It started with headaches. Not the occasional headache everyone gets, but headaches that became part of my normal life. The kind that made me keep ibuprofen nearby because I knew there was a good chance I'd need it before the day was over. I'd be sitting in class when a familiar pressure would settle at the base of my skull. At the time, I didn't think much of it. I was fourteen. I assumed it would e

When people hear the words Chiari Malformation, most of them pause. It sounds complicated, unfamiliar, and a little intimidating. I usually follow it up with a simple explanation, but the truth is, no short definition ever really captures what it feels like to live with it. Chiari Malformation is a neurological condition where the lower part of the brain, the cerebellar tonsils, extend into the spinal canal. In simple terms, part of my brain sits lower than it should, which c

My name is Lori Baca, and I'm an author whose writing is shaped by my faith in Christ and my journey through chronic illness. For years, I've dreamed about sharing my story—not because it's extraordinary, but because I know what it's like to feel unseen, unheard, and desperate for hope. At fourteen years old, I began experiencing symptoms that no one could fully explain. What started as headaches eventually became years of chronic pain, endless doctor appointments, misdiagnos