Therapy in a Bottle…

I made this decision and I’m running with it. I’m a writer to my core and I find that when I let words spill across the page, whether it’s in one of my dozens of notebooks & journals, or I’m typing out each word painstakingly, I feel a sense of calm. Writing is truly my therapy in a metaphorical bottle.

2016. While not a complete disaster, it was the source of a whole shit load of stress and I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t have any methods to help me deal. Thus the health issues I deal with on a daily basis took a sharp and very painful plunge. A plunge I’m working hard to find my way out of.

I know it won’t be easy, but honestly when is my life easy? I’ve found that I have days where my pain is almost unbearable and my thoughts grow dark. I hate my body most days. It’s straight up a traitor and has robbed me of my youth. Granted I’m not really young, but I’m not really old either, but my body behaves like I’m in my 70’s or older. 31 year olds should never feel that way!!! My body. My health. Fibromyalgia. It’s robbed me of being the mom & wife I’d always dreamed of being. I seriously feel betrayed.

Dark days be damned! I am trying to find ways to live my life to its fullest, even if its not how I planned or intended to. I have to or eventually I’ll fade away. Or worse yet, do something stupid. My internship turned part-time job usually keeps me busy and that helps, if I can get out of bed & get there it helps.

However, last weekend I took a nasty fall down my best friend’s stairs and messed up my ankle. Grrr. Just my luck. *Insert eyeball roll* When I landed on it, I heard and felt a horrific crack. I was certain that I had broken my ankle. Initial x-rays at the ER didn’t show anything, but I had a follow up a few days later with an orthopedic surgeon and a second set of x-rays since it wasn’t getting better. Those x-rays showed a spot on the bottom of my right fibula where there might be a small fracture.

My X-Ray on Wednesday Afternoon

I’m scheduled with another follow up this Tuesday (a week later) and another x-ray. He says if there is a fracture there that we weren’t able to see in the last set, then it will show up in this one.

Oddly enough I’m hoping we see one. I want validation for the amount of pain I’m in and for the misery I’m experiencing using crutches for almost two weeks. If there isn’t a break, we may have to wait a month or two before they will want to do an MRI to check for torn or detached ligaments. I’m hoping we won’t have to wait that long. I’ve been there and done that. Doing that left a horrible mess in my left ankle and only after three ankle surgeries have I been able to find less pain.

Anyway, I need to get things figured out. I need to get back to work and finish my projects.

My ankle Wednesday night @ 11:21 PM

Plus, I worry they will decide that I’m not worth keeping me employed and will fire me. Not something I want to put on my resume, especially as its a job in my career field and will look good on my resume. The crappy thing is, my office is on the third floor with a set of split level stairs and no elevators. At home, we have the same kind of stairs and I have to crawl up the stairs and slide down on my butt. I can’t (and really won’t) do that at work, making it very difficult for me to get up and down the stairs. I hope they will continue to understand. I did tell them to let me know what I can do from home, because I am happy to work from home.

Sorry, I’ve probably bored you al to tears. Granted this is still mostly for me, but should you stumble across my blog, I’d love for you to stay and get to know me. To join me on my

My ankle as of Friday @ 12:42 AM

Fibro Journey. Like I said this blog is my therapy and I always feel a measure lighter after I blog. I’m finally releasing what I’ve kept bottled up for years. It truly is good for my psyche.

I hope you find a measure of peace too. I hope if you find yourself in a similar situation or you are fighting Fibromyalgia or any bad health situation, I hope you will find an ally in me. I’m here should you need a friend.

Sending out prayers, love and good vibes.

A Writer Is Born

I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. An amazing teacher in third grade helped me tap into my ability and my love of the written word. I already sought solace in reading. By the time I started third grade I had already attended 7 different schools. 7. I’ve never quite forgiven my parents for the trauma all that moving caused me. They deny it, but honestly they aren’t me and so they can’t even imagine what I felt. I was traumatized. I didn’t know how to make friends, at least not for long term, because as soon as it seemed like I was adapting and making friends, we were gone again. So, reading was the place I could go, find adventures and make friends that couldn’t leave me. Third grade brought many, many writing assignments and so something I remembered dreading before that, suddenly became a new escape. In my stories anything was possible. I could be anyone I wanted and go wherever I wanted. Oh, the worlds I could create.

My writing continued to develop and I improved. I entered contests, winning awards, attending writer’s conferences, sucking in all the information I could to be better. I dreamed of becoming famous and writing a Bestselling Novel. I definitely improved over the years, but then I began to be self-concious of my writing and shared it less & less. Of course, it doesn’t help that when I would share my writing would be torn apart without being constructive. Warning: Don’t say anything that isn’t constructive criticism to a writer. If you can’t do that, you have no business judging someone’s work.

I’m still dreaming of being a famous writer. I’ve become more cautious with my writing. If you are lucky enough to be given the chance to read my works of fiction, you’d be numbered among a small few that I’m willing to share with. I still love to write. I’ve been suffering from Writer’s Block, maybe this blog will help me find my way around.

If you’re here reading this, you are numbered with those I trust with my writing and my secrets. Be kind.

A Writer is born.

Titles, Names, Roles and My Story

Writer. Actress. Movie Buff. Singer. Introvert. Home Business Owner. Book Obsessed. Crafter. Paper-crafter. Archaeologist. Student. Daughter. Sister. Wife. Mother. Best Friend. A million titles, names and roles that I fill everyday. Yet, there is another list, one that I often keep to myself. It’s a list of names, of roles that I wish I could rip up and erase from my life. Unfortunately, that’s not how life works, is it?

If you can’t rid yourself of them, then what options do you have? Granted I could attempt to deny them and their side effects, but that’s just asking for trouble. Denying reality doesn’t do anything besides hurt you further.

So, today I’m going to be Brave. Today I’m going to be honest with the world, with myself. I’m going to embrace myself. My titles, my names, my roles, every little thing that makes me, well me. It won’t be easy. It definitely won’t be easy. But I’m going to try.

If you’re here with me for the long haul, I welcome you with my arms wide open. If you decide this story isn’t for you, I get it too. I’ve blogged about my family. I’ve blogged about my crafting business. I’ve blogged because college required it of me. I’ve blogged to share recipes. I’ve blogged to practice my fiction writing. I’ve blogged to share. All great. All enjoyable.

Today…today I’m blogging for me. I’ve spent far to long bottling myself up. Avoiding saying what I really feel because I’m afraid that I’ll say something I can’t take back. Afraid of really dealing with how my diagnosis has changed my world. Changed my life, my family. How it changed me.

I’m not sure where to start. Honestly I feel a bit overwhelmed. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but in the more recent past I’ve felt like my writing is lacking. A mind full of doubt. I’m not even sure I’m any good at this. But this is self therapy and it’s free. Like I said if you decide to quit reading this blog, it’s really ok. I’m writing for me anyway.

Welcome to my story.