I’m quite an unremarkable person. My best friend is a Labrador, my arch nemesis is a wheelchair. I’ve just sat my A levels, my body is malfunctioning pretty disastrously in multiple ways, I’m an emotional mess, and I’m trying to fix all of that (with the help of multiple doctors, a group of awesome friends, and this blog.) You’re welcome to come along for the ride


Edit: 22nd April 2016 (now at the end of my first year of university, but decided to keep the first paragraph to keep track of how far I’ve come. The rest of the first statement still stands.)

Sorry to moan a lot, but this blog is the only place I have to let everything out. I don’t know what I’d do without it, the likes I get on these posts really mean a lot… But I can only apologise if you’re sick of hearing about all of this. I am equally as sick of thinking about it. I know how lucky I am, and I forget to share the positives because they don’t eat me alive if I don’t let them out, and I share those positives with the people who created the moments with me (I have finally acquired a handful of the most awesome human beings, and am honoured to call them my friends). Anyway, thanks for putting up with me, and all of ‘it’. Since I started this blog so many people have walked away from me because of stuff like this, normally when I need their support the most, but I’ve gained some followers on this blog and a few likes on my posts, and that is more than an ample replacement. The blogging community is kind of awesome. Thank you all.

6 thoughts on “About

  1. I also have a blog here on WordPress. I update it now and then with health reports, and in some way I think I’m doing my part to keep my extended family informed, should they choose to read it – some do, some don’t, but it is easier than having a live conversation … I never know if I have said too much or too little, so it’s easier to write it out and let others decide when they’ve read enough or when they want to know more. You don’t say here in the first entry what your condition is labeled … mine is relapsing remitting multiple sclerosis, and is accompanied by melanoma, sqauamous and basal skin cancers, osteoporosis, scoliosis, and more recently a ‘silent’ heart attack. I’m in the second half of my seventh decade, so this is not at all frightening to me (due to the excellent attention of mental health doctors who recognized and are adequately treating chronic depression that has followed all of these diagnoses. I’ve been blogging for a few years now, and my blog has many pages, but I’m sure that visitors to it just read the most current entry. I seldom hear back from anyone there. Usually one of my friends, or a stranger who has found my blog, will make a quick comment, and I try to answer them in kind.

    Your story, as it is written in present tense and without a lot of specifics, is compelling. I will be back to read more, as I am going to click on the ‘follow’ link so I’ll hear when you have written more. We are at opposite ends of the spectrum – I was not diagnosed with any of this until my late fifties. I wonder if I could have had the confidence to do all that I have done in my life had I known earlier what all I had/have. MS is so unspecific … I know I had symptoms as a teenager. People assumed I was lazy, or depressed. Truth is fatigue ruled my teenage years, and I can see it clearly when I look back at the annual school photographs. I’m glad I didn’t know. I spent a lot of energy trying to prove that I wasn’t lazy… I went to college, went to graduate school, continued studying after becoming a teacher – I even went to Harvard Graduate School of Education on the school district’s dollar, as they want me and my co-teacher to bring back computer software information for our students. I’m happy with what I accomplished. And when I had to retire due to loss of my executive functioning skills (short term memory, organization, decision making etc.) I was beref, until I opened my quilt/fabric shop at age 65. I’ve entered a whole new world of comassionate, enthusiastic, creative colleagues – quilters are as wonderful as my fellow teachers had been. As my husband has always been. We’ve been together for fifty years… if you want to know more about me, you’re welcome to my health blog.

    Liked by 1 person

    • My vagueness is deliberate; it is significantly denial, but also because most of my family have no idea and none of them know all of it and I don’t want to upset them by telling the internet first. I try to focus on the emotion behind it all instead. To me my health is my Achilles heel, I was bullied at school because of it and swiftly learned that it was something to hide. Some of it doesn’t even have names. Some of it is so normal to me that I forget it has the power to kill. I figure my life is pretty great and I am lucky but I do just like to retain some… Privacy, and the integrity of my denial, which helps me to cope. Probably doesn’t make a lot of sense as I’m half asleep in the ICU right now, will re-attempt when I’m more with it. Thanks for the comment!


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