Since I was around 12 years old, I’ve lived with excruciating periods. The kind of pain that made me miss days of school, doubled over in cramps, throwing up, and unable to function. I was told it was just “bad periods” and to tough it out — but what I was feeling was far from normal.

In college, things took a sharp turn for the worse. What used to be cyclical pain around my period became daily suffering. The cramps, back pain, leg pain — it never let up. I went from being a Division I athlete, pushing my body to its limits, to barely being able to get through a short walk. Eventually, I had to give up the sport I loved. I was trying to stay positive, trying to find answers. But every doctor’s visit felt like hitting a wall. I was dismissed, doubted, and gaslit time and time again.

After years of searching, an ER doctor finally said the word: endometriosis. I learned that the only way to confirm it was through exploratory surgery. I wasn’t ready yet — I tried everything else first: diets, medications, lifestyle changes. Nothing worked. The pain only got worse. I didn’t recognize myself anymore — I was just surviving.

Eventually, I couldn’t wait any longer. I had the surgery. They found endometriosis on multiple organs, along with adhesions that had fused parts of my organs to my pelvic wall. The relief after surgery was surreal. I experienced pain-free days for the first time in years — but only for about nine months.

Then it came back.

I tried another surgery a year later. And again, the cycle repeated. Short-lived relief, followed by a painful return. That brings me to today. I live with chronic pain — every day — without knowing when or if it will end.

But I’ve found a new purpose. Out of this suffering came something beautiful: Our Daughter’s Foundation, a mission born from pain but fueled by hope. I want a better future for others with this disease — one where they’re believed, diagnosed earlier, and given better options.

Today, my symptoms are complex and relentless. I experience pelvic congestion which results in extreme swelling in my lower abdomen, hips, back, and legs. It’s not just painful — it affects how I see myself. I struggle with body image, fatigue, nerve pain that radiates from my back down my legs, and daily flares triggered by even the smallest disruptions to my routine. I can’t exercise like I want to. I can’t live the way I used to. Intimacy is painful. Mornings are brutal. Nights are unpredictable.

This disease has taken a lot from me — but it hasn’t taken my voice. If you’re reading this and struggling, you’re not alone. I see you. And I’m fighting for a world where you don’t have to suffer in silence. -Krissy Duenkel