Before Guillain-Barré syndrome, I was a healthy, fit woman in my late 30s… alright, let’s be honest, pushing 40!
Fitness had become a huge part of who I was. It wasn’t just about looking fit—it was my outlet, my stress relief, my confidence and something that genuinely made me happy.
I was training for my second Paladin Fitness Competition with my teammate and good friend, Candice. We’d already competed once a few months earlier, and while I was proud just to have crossed the finish line, I wasn’t finished. I knew exactly what the competition involved now, what I needed to improve on, and I was absolutely determined to get myself onto that podium in May 2026.
I trained with purpose. Three to four gym sessions every week after the school drop-off, 5 km runs to build my endurance, strength sessions that left me sore for days, and plenty of moments where I questioned why I was putting myself through it… only to come back and do it all again the next day.
There were no shortcuts. Every run, every lift, every aching muscle and every sweaty session was building towards one goal. I wanted to see what three years of consistency and hard work could really achieve.
Looking back now, I don’t think I realised just how strong I’d become. Not just physically, but mentally too. I’d fallen in love with challenging myself and seeing what my body was capable of. I felt healthy. I felt energetic. I honestly thought I was in the best shape of my life.
Like a lot of busy mums, life was full. Between running our air conditioning business with my husband, raising our two young kids, school sports, soccer, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and somehow squeezing in training around it all, every day was busy. Most mornings, once the kids were dropped at school, I’d head straight to the gym before getting back into work. It became my routine, my time, and something I genuinely looked forward to. I loved being busy. I had plans, goals and a body that I trusted completely.
I had no idea that in less than 24 hours, everything I’d worked so hard for would be taken away.
One day I was training for a fitness competition.
The next, I was fighting to walk.
And I couldn’t have imagined that within days I’d be lying in a hospital bed, wondering if I’d ever move normally again.
My Australian GBS Story 
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