I was 13 years old when I was diagnosed with Immune Thrombocytopenia, a rare and chronic blood disorder. I had always been a healthy child, rarely even contracting a stomach bug. A potentially life-threatening autoimmune disease was not in my hand of cards, until it was. Months of testing, blood draws, and prodding had led to this diagnosis, yet I still felt its weight as a shock. Within an instant, my world was turned upside down, I was faced with a new problem: change. Being a devoted student, I have always been certain of my abilities to get through any obstacle that I encountered. If I could anticipate something, I knew that I would be prepared for any outcome. I can study for hours upon hours to ace an exam,; but with a heavy diagnosis like ITP, I faced uncertainty, the idea that life could change at any moment, Being diagnosed with ITP meant I could no longer fully commit to my beloved sport, ballet, or play catch with my sister, but those problems were minuscule. I no longer had control over everything in my life. My platelet levels would never be consistent again, as if they ever were. Having an autoimmune disease is full of unknowns, your body attacking itself is not normal. I never felt any symptoms, aside from standard fatigue, but I felt a self-imposed stress that my life was slipping through my fingers. I could not control the condition of my health, so I felt as if I had lost everything. To say I did not deal well with uncertainty would have been an understatement; uncertainty petrified me. Following my diagnosis, I made it my mission to learn everything there was to know about ITP. My hematologist was often plagued by my long lists of questions, some of which she didn't even have the answer to. I quickly learned that it would be impossible to predict my health at any point and time, again, everything can change in an instant. I drowned in wormholes of “what ifs” and “whens”, afraid to live in the moment and let my body take care of itself. Although I never know if my ITP will resolve itself or worsen in its progression, I am certain of one thing. I must deal with challenges in a way that benefits my future, not keep me caged down with hidden potential. Having an autoimmune disorder did not mean I lost parts of myself, it only meant I gained the opportunity to know myself better. My devotion to researching every corner of the ITP blood disorder translated into my newfound ability of confidence. I will never be able to pinpoint my platelet levels at any exact moment. Still, in other aspects of my life, I can put energy into preparedness and the ability to think on my feet. I may not be prepared for everything, but I can accept results with the ability to think through them efficiently, instead of assuming the worst.