Julie Crawford

For years, I felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. I was living with constant flank pain, dizziness that came out of nowhere, and a fatigue so deep that sleep couldn't touch it. Strange flares would come and go, sneezing fits, waves of heat, rib pain, brain fog, and each one left me more confused. Doctors saw parts of the picture: anemia, gastritis, stressed kidneys. But no one connected the dots. I was told it was stress, hormones, maybe anxiety. That hurt more than the symptoms because I knew something was wrong.

The worst part wasn’t the physical pain. It was the isolation. The constant gaslighting. I started canceling plans, not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t keep up. Friendships slipped away. I stopped explaining because it felt impossible to get others to understand what I couldn’t even explain myself.

Eventually, I heard the words "plasma cell disorder" for the first time. It was terrifying, but also a strange relief. I wasn’t imagining this. There might be a reason for the chaos in my body. I still don’t have all the answers, but I finally feel like I’m on a path.

Chronic illness has changed everything. I’ve lost pieces of my old life, my career, my confidence, even parts of my identity. Every day is a negotiation between what I want to do and what my body will allow. But I’ve learned to trust my instincts, even when the labs say "normal."
If you’re living in the in-between space of not-yet-diagnosed, feeling unheard and unseen, please know this: you're not alone. You're not weak. You're not making it up. You're fighting a battle that others can’t see.

I advocate because I know what it feels like to be dismissed. For too long, patients with chronic and invisible illnesses have been forced to become their own researchers, data analysts, and advocates. I’ve lived this reality. I was dismissed. I was disbelieved. I spent years in pain without answers.

That’s why I started building a digital health tool called Owlfred. It's a real-time symptom and health history tracker designed to help patients show up to medical appointments with clear timelines, patterns, and insights. It connects the dots between symptoms, labs, flares, and medications, making it easier for people like me and you to be taken seriously and receive the care we deserve.

I advocate because I know how exhausting it is to fight for answers while being told "everything looks fine." I’ve felt the emotional toll chronic illness takes on your work, your relationships, and your sense of identity.

Owlfred is my voice and I hope he will help others feel seen, supported, and empowered. Advocacy means making the invisible visible. It means changing the system so fewer people fall through the cracks. It means refusing to accept “We don’t know, so it must be nothing” as the end of the conversation.