March 31, 2016


i am always thinking. well, duh. maybe what i should say is that i am always writing in my head. yes. however, more often than not it takes a very long time for what it is written in my head to find its way cohesively to a published post. i follow a number of writers on IG and i am blown away by their ability to share their thoughts in written form on a daily basis. wow. just wow. at times i feel small and inept and frustrated by my sluggishness.

"too often we are ruled by everything that is wrong with us 
as opposed to 
everything that is right with us" 
                                          ~nick ortner

this morning i sat down to work on my post about the LDI/LDA immunotherapy. i've been writing this dang thing now for a couple of weeks. it's coming along but i'm frustrated by the length of time it is taking me to write it. i thought i'd get it done today. that was my goal but i only had an hour to hammer away at it before my plans for the day - a lovely stroll with a friend in steveston - took me away from the laptop.

as i was driving to steveston - i was quite suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. first off, the gas light was on. this stressed me out exponentially. gas stations freak me out. social anxiety perk - plus i can never figure out how to work the stupid pump - and i almost always end up having an attendant yell at me over the station loudspeaker. plus i was running late - so i really didn't have time to stop for gas. (oh good one - that like makes so much sense.

anyhow, while all of that was going on in my head, out of the blue i was bowled over by an intense sense of gratitude to be alive - lyme, anxiety and all. there i was driving by myself to meet a friend and go for a walk on a beautiful day. well, none of that is anything i take for granted. to be able. well, the intensity of those feelings just got me all bleary eyed (which was excellent because it  made the gas light blurry and a bit less noticeable.)

and then as i was driving along, this post just wrote itself. and since getting home (and i filled up the gas tank like a boss on the way home) my thoughts have made their way from my head to the screen.

diy rips, wounds and a rosie perspective

the gorgeous weather has me pulling out my thrifted faves from last spring.

the hubster says my thrifted shoes remind him of band-aids. smh. fashion mimics life. i burned my hand boiling water and sliced my finger tip whilst chopping onions this week. i really should not be allowed in a kitchen. given the balmy spring weather upon us and my recent mishaps in the kitchen it seemed fitting that i should wear my band-aid shoes today. after all, i like coordinating my outfits. the minor wear and tear on my ankle is left-overs i got earlier this week from a rip down a mountain biking trail called Dale's Trail on Mt Seymour. yes, i am able to mountain bike. it's incredible to be able to ride. it also helps me cope with my anxiety. my bike is my ativan. 

to be able...i am sitting here in my thrifted denim with my DIY rips, wounds and band-aids and just feeling overwhelmingly grateful to be able-bodied today. i have lived with chronic lyme disease for 10 years now. and spent many of those years bedridden and on daily IV treatment. my last big flare of lyme symptoms was a year ago and it put me flat on my back from january to march of last year. from where i sit today to where i was - even a year ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago - is truly staggering. so today it feels incredible to be covered in band-aids from the wear and tear of life - all the way from the mundane things like cooking (albeit, let's keep it real, i am able but not really able to cook) to the extraordinary feat of shredding a black diamond run on my mountain bike. 

i have good days. and i still have bad days. but most days, i am able. more than able. for that i am wholeheartedly grateful. never give up. there is always hope.

rosie hued specs - zenni optical. 
rosie outlook - chronic life lessons

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