💙 What You’ll Learn in My Weekly Facebook Lives for Women with Autoimmune Disease

One year ago, I wrote a reflection about stretching into discomfort. I had just started to step into spaces I once avoided, and I was learning to find my voice where silence had once kept me safe. It was raw, it was honest—and it was the beginning of a new version of me. Today, I read that post again and felt both pride and tenderness for the woman I was back then. She was discovering her edges, daring to push past survival mode, and starting to believe she was worthy of more than just “getting through” life. But here’s what I now know—growth didn’t stop with awareness. It deepened. Over the past 12 months, I’ve moved from simply recognizing the patterns that held me back, to releasing them. I’ve taken everything I once used to protect myself—perfectionism, over-performing, people-pleasing—and gently laid them down. Not because they were wrong, but because they were no longer needed. They were armor. But now? I wear truth, softness, and strength instead. This year, I’ve spoken on stages, launched new programs, supported women through the fog of a diagnosis, and stood in my story with more confidence than I ever thought possible. My voice isn’t something I’m searching for anymore—it’s something I use every day to uplift, advocate, and remind women that they’re not alone. What’s changed most isn’t the outside—it’s the inner shift. I no longer see discomfort as a threat. I see it as an invitation. I trust myself in hard moments. I give myself grace when I stumble. And I extend compassion to others even when they’re not ready to grow—because I remember when I wasn’t either. To the version of me who wrote that post a year ago: thank you. Thank you for being brave enough to begin. Because you didn’t just dip your toe in. You jumped in, heart-first. And to the woman reading this today who feels stuck, uncertain, or scared of what’s next—I want you to know this: Your transformation isn’t ahead of you. It’s already started. Growth isn’t loud or flashy. Sometimes it looks like resting when you used to push. Speaking up when you used to shrink. Saying “no” when you used to abandon yourself just to be liked. That is the work. That is the healing. Here’s to another year of becoming more of who we truly are—not despite the discomfort, but because of it.

April : A Month of Resilience, Family, and New Beginnings April has been a month of reflection, family, and new beginnings. It has brought both moments of joy and the kind of challenges that remind us of our strength and resilience. I want to share my personal journey with you—some of the highs, the lows, and the memories that made this month so unforgettable. A Family Vacation Fil led with Love At the beginning of the month, my husband, daughter, granddaughters, and I took a much-needed family vacation. After the long winter months and the busyness of life, it was an opportunity to step away from everything and focus on making new memories with the people who matter most to me. We laughed, we explored, and we took time to really be present with each other. It’s easy to get caught up in the day-to-day struggles of life—especially when living with a chronic condition like Rheumatoid Arthritis. But moments like these remind me that life is about more than just surviving; it’s about living, loving, and cherishing the time we have with the people who fill our hearts. This trip was a beautiful reminder to slow down, to savor the little moments, and to prioritize family above all else. Facing the Unknown: My Biopsy Journey After returning from our vacation, I was faced with the uncertainty of a biopsy on April 23rd. While I didn’t know what the results would be, I knew I had learned over the years how to navigate moments like these with grace and resilience. The waiting period was tough. It’s never easy sitting with the unknown, especially when it comes to our health. But through this experience, I leaned into the strength I’ve built over my journey with Rheumatoid Arthritis. The patience, the ability to cope, and the self-compassion I’ve learned along the way all played a huge role in getting me through. The results of the biopsy came back negative for cancer, and while I am incredibly relieved, I’m also deeply grateful for the lessons this experience taught me. It wasn’t just about the outcome—it was about the process and how I showed up for myself in the midst of it. This was another reminder of the power of resilience and the importance of caring for our mental and emotional well-being through every stage of our health journeys. Saying Goodbye: A Final Farewell to My Mother-in-Law This month also brought a bittersweet farewell. We said goodbye to my mother-in-law at sundown during Passover. It was a deeply emotional moment, one filled with love, grief, and a sense of peace. Saying goodbye is never easy, but I found comfort in knowing that we were able to honor her life and send her off with love and respect. This experience reinforced the importance of family and the profound impact they have on our lives, even after they’re no longer physically with us. During this time, I was reminded that creating meaningful memories is essential, especially in times of loss. These moments of connection and reflection are what keep us going, and they hold space for both grief and love. Grateful for the Journey As I reflect on April, I am filled with gratitude—for the strength I’ve gained through my health challenges, for the love of my family, and for the countless memories I continue to create with them. Life is full of difficult moments, but it’s also full of beautiful moments that shape who we are and how we move forward. I want to leave you with a question: What’s one memory you made this month that brought you peace or joy? These small moments often hold the greatest strength, and they remind us of our resilience even in the toughest times. As we move forward into the next month, I encourage you to take time to appreciate the moments that matter most. Whether it’s a family vacation, a simp le moment of connection, or just finding peace within yourself, remember that each step, no matter how small, is part of your journey of strength and growth. With love, Annmarie

Hey, Beautiful Warrior If we’ve crossed paths before—welcome back. If you’re new here, I’m so glad you’ve found your way to this space. My name is Annmarie Entner, and I’m the heart behind Life Coaching For Change. I support women who are newly diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis or feeling overwhelmed in the thick of it—and I walk alongside them as they navigate the heartbreak, the uncertainty, and the brave work of redefining their lives. But today, I want to do something a little different. I want to reintroduce myself—not just as a coach, but as a woman who’s been where you are. When I was first diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I was overwhelmed by doctor appointments, uncertain treatment plans, the grief of not knowing what my future held, and the quiet ache of wondering if I’d ever feel "normal" again. I had moments of fearing I wouldn’t be able to hold my grandchild, dance at a wedding, or even enjoy the little things without pain tagging along like an uninvited guest. I know what it’s like to smile on the outside while you're barely holding it together inside. And I also know what it means to rise—to choose purpose in the midst of pain, to hold both hope and grief in the same hand, and to show up fully, even when your body wants to do anything but. That’s why I do what I do. Today, my life looks so different—not because the pain is gone, but because I’ve made peace with it. I've learned to move with it instead of letting it define me. I’ve become my own advocate, embraced support, rebuilt precious relationships, and found strength I never knew I had. And now, I help other women do the same. Whether it’s through one-on-one coaching, support groups, or walking side by side (literally!) in my new walking group, I’m here to remind you: ✨ You are not alone. ✨ You are not broken. ✨ And your diagnosis is not the end of your story—it’s the start of a new chapter. So consider this blog a fresh hello. I'm still the same Annmarie—coach, author, speaker, wife, mom, proud grandma, and woman who’s been through it all—but I’m also evolving, just like you. I’m growing into new roles, building new resources, and showing up more fully than ever, so I can continue to support you on your journey. If you're ready to reconnect, reignite your sense of self, or simply breathe a little easier—I'm right here. Let’s keep walking this path together. With love and light, Annmarie

When you’re first diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, everything can feel like it’s been flipped upside down. I remember the exact moment I got the news. The fear hit hard. “Why me? What did I do wrong?” It’s the question that sits with you in those early days. Your plans for the future, your sense of […]

May to September I don’t even know where to begin except that I have been living in pain and functioning! How you ask?! Well, It started with cleaning out my MIL’s house we bought for her… HOLY HOARDER!!! I began May with organizing and throwing out so much “STUFF“… This was our 3rd time decluttering […]

How many of us take medications that cost “A LOT”…. I recently had this fear and am still working through it.  My husband got laid off last month in corporate world “Workforce Reduction”. I went into complete survival mode and scared shitless.  In April I will have experienced not being in pain for one year.  […]

As I continue to be on my journey of self-reflection and honesty, I realized that change is consistent even in the face of a challenging diagnosis like Rheumatoid Arthritis. I knew that I had to find a way to adapt and cope with this new reality. I started by educating myself about Rheumatoid Arthritis and […]

Fear of the unknown refers to anxiety around unpredictable situations or events. We are likely to experience fear of the unknown when there is a lack of information. In the early months of my diagnosis with Rheumatoid Arthritis, I vividly remember the constant feeling of fear that consumed me. At that time, I had no understanding […]