Anniversaries are markers of time. Whether marking a happy or sad occasion, the passage of time from an event is noteworthy. I recently found myself marking two anniversaries almost simultaneously, with vastly different outcomes.

I was watching the news the other day at lunchtime with my mom when I realized they were talking about a 9/11 remembrance. “It’s already that time?” I wondered. Then I remembered that day has its own significance to me. I quickly did the math, and I realized that this 9/11/24 is my 8th anniversary of my Transverse Myelitis diagnosis. The MS and Optic Neuritis didn’t join the party until December 2016 and January 2017, but it was the TM that did the original damage. I like to say it “Fast Tracked” my MS. ​

8 years. 8 years ago I was in the best shape of my life, living my dreams of owning and running my own small children’s museum and starting a new teaching job at a new district that I was really excited about. Then over the course of the 3 preceding days to 9/11, I lost feeling, and eventually use of my body from the waist down. It was in the wee house of the morning on 9/11 after a spinal tap and MRI at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center that I first learned that the lesion on my spinal cord was in fact a rare disease called Transverse Myelitis.
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It was the 180 life-changing moment referred to in the hope4life180 blog title. But it was also the hope moment in the hope4life180 blog title. I had to sell my house and pause the business, but it was also when I bought my RV. It was when the Purple Moose books really took off. Then there was my relapse in 2018 when I landed back in the hospital for 5 days and rehab for 2 weeks when I basically had to learn to walk again. This time it was thanks to my MS stepping up its game and going full secondary progressive MS on me. Still, there was hope. I bought my first wheelchair, my Grit, which opened the door for long distance adventures I couldn't do with just my canes. It took me solo to the Patriots Superbowl Parade in downtown Boston, including on public transportation. It took me all over New York City, in and out of cabs, to Broadway musicals, and on an amazing adventure on the High Line. I transformed my Grit and my canes into amazing Halloween costumes. It was not the life I had originally chosen, but I was still living my best life. 

But in May of 2020, it all began to change again. My mom had her two TIA falls that month and she was never the same. I went from moving back to Ohio after my father’s passing to coming back to NH to the role of sole care giver for my mom and her property. Looking back, my actions were always the best intentioned. I would care for mom and the house until she got better, or life sadly changed. I’d just put my life on hold until then. That was four years ago.
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I’m told Daddy began pouring the foundation for the house in NH when I was born. So that makes the house, er...  multiple decades old. He built it and maintained it up until his early 80s when two bad hips and numerous other health challenges began to slow him down. At least a decade passed before his passing at 92, when the house continued to age without attention. By the time I realized the extent of the decline it was not only overwhelming emotionally, but financially. I love my parents so much and I love that they had the chance to travel and live their lives to the fullest, but they did not financially prepare for either one of them to not be able to work, either on the house or in providing income for the end of their lives and beyond.

​So, I did what I could. I’m a fighter. I took my fighting spirit that turned the first 4 years after my diagnosis into great things and focused it on how I could help maintain the house and property. All of my energies and focus went into keeping mom healthy, safe and happy, and maintaining the NH house. I knew it was too much as I was doing it, but when there is literally no other choice and you have broken pipes, rotting walls, and leaking roofs, you just keep doing what you can until you can’t.
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For me the beginning of the can’t was Black Friday 2023, less than 24 hours after arriving in Ohio, when I had a biopsy on the tumor my MS MRI found the previous spring. Yes, I ignored it that long, because I had other things to take care of. Obviously, those things weren’t me. Many of you already know that began a difficult health winter for me, because a week after the biopsy, I had covid (yes, I had my shot, no mom never got sick). I recovered enough to enjoy Christmas, but by New Years I had pneumonia. It took three rounds of antibiotics including being admitted to the hospital before it finally cleared. But a week after it cleared, I feared a relapse. Nope. I got covid again. After I finally got over that thanks to Paxlovid, I had my tumor surgery to prepare for, since the pathology from the biopsy was abnormal. I knew my body and the universe was trying to tell me to slow down. 

​I had to find time for me and regain some balance in order to get healthy physically and emotionally, but I honestly didn’t know how. I felt so far away from my previous joys, that I started by doing new things. I took online lessons on watercolor painting, a medium that always fascinated me. I started writing a cozy mystery book, that I think actually isn’t half bad, if I do say so myself. I joined a group that did mixed media online that stretched my artistic and creativity comfort zone, but was a blast! I was determined to continue all of these in NH, even lugging a bunch of the materials with me. I bet you already know how that went…

Once we finally arrived in NH there was just so much to do! There was an aftermath of a major winter mouse presence to deal with (way worse that the squirrel and ermine occupants from the previous winter), despite my extra efforts to contain and remove any potential food sources prior to leaving. The mice also ate a hole in my pool outside, so my way to cool off during hot, sweaty, outside work that my MS can’t tolerate was taken away until I got a new one. But the new smaller pool wasn’t accessible from the pool deck, so I basically had to build a bridge to link it to the pool stairs. That was challenging but rewarding when it was done! And the Pups were VERY happy they now had a place to cool off again too!

The late arrival in NH meant the field was overgrown. Unfortunately, my old mower decided it had mowed its last blade, despite my numerous efforts to resuscitate it, so I threw caution to the wind and just bought a new mower. That was great until it broke a belt and recently threw a tire. I never had those issues with the old beat-up mower. Mind you with all these repairs I had to either figure out how to do myself or find someone to do it which was not easy!
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The broken pipe damage from the winter remained to be dealt with, but wasn’t the top priority. The main bathroom septic drainpipe was also leaking when we got here, but the massive rain and flooding we had that washed away the top of our driveway more than once, rose to the top of the priority list. The same storms also took a huge section of the land from in front of the mudroom and threatened to wash away more in front of the house. I was working on fixing that was when I messed up my knee (on my GOOD leg). I attempted to seek medical attention 3 times, and not once was there an x-ray tech available, which was required to rule out structural issues before they could do any further testing for a real diagnosis. I finally decided it didn’t really matter anyway, because they all would say stay off it, and that was not happening! ​

​Drowning in repair costs we couldn’t afford, I took it upon myself to look into setting up a camping system Mom and I used on the way up called HIPCAMP. Basically, it is private property is rented out to campers that you can chose to accept or not. They get a lovely, private and unique stay, and you can generate some income. I set about clearing out two more sites at the lower entrance to the property in addition to listing my bigger Retro camper for rental in the cozy space I used to have for myself near the top entrance to the property. I didn’t get everything ready for listing until mid August, but I began to get bookings the day I listed everything on the HIPCAMP site (Mormor and Grampy’s Place). It’s been a wonderful experience, with the exception of the bear poop I found at one site between guest stays, and a Bobcat wailing at the edge of the field another night when we thankfully had no one in tents, but did have one small trailer and one family in my bigger Reto camper. 

​ I spent any “me time” I had restoring and working on my little 65 Scotty Serro I named Eloise, that I love so dearly. This summer I bought her new tires and rims, and even had someone come to the house to put them on. Which was great until the jack he used released too fast, and the body slammed to the ground hard, splitting the side seem on the front right side. Devastated, I went about learning how to repair said seem, and in the process resealed them all, as well as resealed the roof and repainted the body. We also finally found the vin, so for $23.00 I was finally able to register her. Unfortunately, none of the local mechanics would touch greasing the bearings, so sadly, Eloise and I never left the property. The pups and I did stay in her when we were full up Labor Day weekend, which was wonderful. And honestly, once I had her all decorated in my fun bright colors, there were days I would just open the door and look around and take a deep breath and smile at the hope she offered. I even stuck my art supplies I brought with me in bins under the table in hopes it would inspire me to actually use them. Still, it felt like just another unfulfilled dream or wasted efforts towards my own enjoyment, since despite all my work, I still couldn’t safely take her anywhere, and I only worked on art twice, and that was only because I had signed up for a swap, so I had to finish it, lol.

​By the time I had the Hipcamp sites open though, something began to change within me. My long to do list for the house projects was still there and very little had been addressed. I had instead spent all my time and energies addressing the immediate issues that kept popping up. I had succeeded in opening up the sites. I’d kept the house and property livable. That was enough. I didn’t want to do any more. I was physically and emotionally drained. I wanted to begin to reclaim my own life again. So, I went back to writing a new cozy mystery and was delighted by the characters and stories that flowed onto the pages. Once some income began to be generated by the Hipcamp sites, I began to think about maybe revisiting the Purple Moose books. Perhaps I could use some of the Hipcamp money to buy the physical copies of the books to sell at places like Polly’s Pancakes and other local establishments. 

​I searched to find the files I’d last worked on to give them a bit of a refresh. They were dated September 2020. 4 years ago. It had been 4 years since I had worked on what once brought me such joy and fulfillment. Of the 8 years since I got sick, I had literally spent the last half of it totally giving up on anything towards my own hopes and dreams. I’d almost reached a point where I truly believed they just didn’t matter anymore, and accepted that I was probably too old to do them anyways. But the realization that I let that much time slip through my fingers without realizing it was like being shocked with paddles on one of those medical dramas. I now feel almost an urgency to make up for some of the lost time.

​I have since updated all 4 of the main Purple Moose book titles and ordered the hard copies. I even created a digital version of the fall leaves book, which makes it so much more accessible to families since the print books are so expensive. I plan to eventually do digital copies for all the books. I’m determined to finish the Purple Moose Differences and Disabilities book, as well as the snow books that have been waiting in the wings for 4 year. And I want to finish writing my cozy mysteries, if only just for me. There is a spark that has ignited within me that I haven’t felt for a long time, and that is exciting. 

I hope this anniversary marks the beginning of a more positive turn of events for me. I am so pleased to finally have some focus to begin creating my own life again. But it is super important that I make it clear how hard it was to get to this point. In summing it all up and writing it all down it is easy to think, wow, that’s so great. And it is. I’m so proud of not only what I have accomplished, but that I have finally gotten to this place of refocus. But it was hard. It was dark and lonely and painful. I mean seriously. It took me 4 years to get to this place of understanding, and there is no guarantee I'll be able to stay here. ​I had a friend check in on me at the beginning of the summer to make sure I was ok. He said you have been uncharacteristically quiet. He was right. I gave him a brief overview of life and said I’d share when I had something good to share. I was quiet for a long time.

​By Thursday, I was once again exhausted, but the house and laundry had to be dealt with. The day began with Mom’s cat Max getting into the self feeder for Greg's cat that I’d yet to pick up. Because I slept in and didn’t see him when mom let him out of her room, he gorged himself and then promptly threw it all up around the house in several delightful locations. The good news is that he’s not sick, just a pig and though he created lots of hands and knees cleaning, he’s fine. I finally got my coffee on the deck and a quiet hour or so as the temperature rose. I actually had a good day, despite the fatigue and start to the day. I actually had a few creative ideas that I hope to make time to work towards. It was exciting to feel creative again! I know day to day life so often gets in the way of creative times, but hey, it is a start! The seed has been planted, I just need to give it the chance to bloom. We even had a chance to enjoy the deck Thursday evening as the warm temps continued.

Friday, it was an early morning up to west of Pittsburgh, for my follow up appointment with the doctor. As the minor nerves begin to regenerate on my face or perhaps just from doing too much, my ear has now begun to ache a bit. The right side of my face feels similar to when you have a Novocain at the dentist and it hasn’t worn off yet. Still, she was pleased with my progress. She took off the steri-strips, and I could now see for certain that the stitches came up from down the side of my neck to behind my ear and then around into my ear making the scar virtually invisible from the front. No wonder the procedure took almost 4 hours! Greg says there are way too many stitches to count. It feels a little like I left an earpiece in that ear from the stitches, especially if I forget and try to lay on that side. I keep reaching up to my ear to “take out the headset I forgot" lol. I’m hoping that subsides, but if that’s the worst I have to adapt to, I’ll learn to live with it. Apparently, they are still waiting for the final pathology though, which is disappointing because I thought I was already in the clear. I’m still hopeful for the best, but waiting is not my best skill. 

To celebrate surviving the week, Greg and I went to Panda Express for lunch and Duluth Trading company for dessert. ;) As a big time overalls/outside work gal, the fact that the entire store was 25% off led to perhaps a bit of retail therapy… But hey when you step out of the dressing room and three separate women shoppers turn to you and say, ooh, that looks cute, what else can you do?! You HAVE to buy it! I'll save those pictures for another day. ;)

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Monday began a new week, but the fatigue has really set in hard. The stress of the last week and looking ahead to what’s next has led to not enough hours of sleep for me at night, and my eyes have been bothering me as well. I’m hoping it’s not another round of optic neuritis lurking around the corner. The pups are both improving, though not as quickly and completely as I would like. I’ll be glad when the warm weather returns. Maybe my energy will return too. I feel disappointed that I can’t give the enthusiastic report I like to give. I acknowledge I have much to be grateful for, but I’m having trouble getting past the fatigue and stress from last week right now.

And just when I think there is no spark to be found, Tuesday I saw a quote on a friend's timeline. She’s a new friend from my online author book club and her insightful shared posts encourage and comfort me daily. Gosh, I appreciate her! She reminds me that that is what I want to do with my Hope4Life180 page. I want to be able to offer others the hope and encouragement she has brought to me. Anyway, the quote she found and shared is from Stacie Martin, and can be seen above in the blog post main picture. “It’s okay if right now, I’m not okay. I know I’ll find my way. I’ll get through, because my track record is, I always do.” BOOM! That’s gotta be my new motto. ​

That brings us to this morning, Wednesday, March 20, 2024. I took the time to listen to a new podcast with Christina Applegate and Jaime Lyn Sigler called MeSsy. In this first episode they both discussed their individual MS battles. Christina was very honest about the fact she is NOT ok with the impacts her MS journey is having on her life right now. It was so relatable! The "MeSs" is part of the process. They ended the podcast with the saying “and so it is’, which is apparently the translation of the word “Amen”. It is not a begging or a pleading. It is a statement of hope, acceptance, an affirmation, and a trust in the universe.
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So I will end this blog post today with “and so it is”. I may not be where I want to be physically and emotionally, but I trust the process and myself to know I will indeed make it through. “Because my track record says I always do." <3

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The guy who did the procedure was flippant and cocky. I was able to watch the entire thing on the screen. He barely got the far left edge of it with the needle. “It’s too small”, he kept saying. “They are usually fine anyway. It’s just too small. It won’t matter anyway. They are usually fine.” I knew it was going to be a poor sample before he even handed it over to the pathologist.

I saw the doctor to discuss the results of the biopsy a week later, the day before I was diagnosed with covid. I knew I was sick with more than sniffles that morning, so I called to try to cancel so as not to spread my germs. The person on the phone wasn’t impressed and said just wear a mask. So I did, because I really did want to be there. I had read the results on my online chart, and I knew what they said. I had done my research and I was concerned.

The doctor was a pleasant young woman, but not someone who bothered to do more than barely scan the report when she came in. The top of the report said It was probably just a normal lesion. The middle of the report said that abnormal cells were discovered, though the sample was too small to determine more. The end of the report said there was a 35% chance of becoming malignant if left untouched.

The doctor's response was this. “Well the report says it’s probably normal. That means you can just ignore it, a month, several months, a year, maybe years. I’m not concerned. I’m not sure what that 35% is though. That doesn’t make sense. They are wrong. That shouldn’t have been stated.”

Me: “What about the atypical cells that were discovered?”

Dr: “What atypical cells? It doesn’t say that. Wait. Oh, there it is. Oh, ok. Well, I guess It should come out then.”

She then began to explain all the risks of surgery, including temporary or permanent paralysis of the facial nerve on that side, which I already knew, because I did my research.

My thoughts? I’m not letting this bitch steal my smile. Whatever. Forget about it. If you can’t pay attention to the report enough to read what it says, I don’t trust you with my facial nerve. I'll find someone else.

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Here’s what happened next. The WVU doctors kept asking who my primary care was before I was released. “Ummm, no one here, but I’m looking to get one….” So I did. I called Greg’s doctor who has cared for him diligently after his life threatening battle with legionnaires disease several years ago, and asked if she’d take me on. I had to be approved. Talk about angst. But she did, and she had a cancellation the next day. I discussed everything with her. She referred me to a well known local WVU ENT who had a cancellation 3 days later! 

He was a delight. Thorough, kind, good listener, and honest. His recommendation? “I get why you are uncomfortable, but she is trained to do this kind of surgery. If it is cancer, you have all the best resources there. My brother, also a doctor, had thyroid cancer and went there for surgery. It was the best choice. I can do it, but I really think you should stick with her”

Well, dang. So I rescheduled the pre op physical I had canceled when I went to the hospital with pneumonia. And then I called the doctor’s office. Shoulders squared. Deep breath. And we now have March 8th as a surgery date. The fact that I just discovered that the date is international women's day, just makes it somehow seems appropriate!

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A lot of moving pieces will need to fall into place before the 8th, not the least of which is care for Mom. But for now, the biggest victory is the decision to continue and fight whatever comes my way, not just ignore it and pretend it doesn't exist. I have lost two beloved family members to cancer far too early in their lives in just the last two years. The fragility of life is not lost on me. I have to believe that a life beyond caregiving, house repair and hoarding management is still out there for me, if I can just hold onto hope. And I plan to. Because as the ZOX card says, "As long as you have breath, you have hope."
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I had hoped to post and share this last weekend, but after I finished writing it, I began to feel worse again. Last Sunday I slept all day, with a weak, but valiant attempt to stay awake for the Superbowl.  By Monday morning I begged my way into my PCP where they informed me I had a fever and sent me off for covid testing and another chest x-ray. Chest x-ray showed particulates in my lungs from the pneumonia that she was prepared to treat with a 4th antibiotic until my covid test came back positive. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!?! I had it in December! I don't go anywhere. UGHHHHHHHH!!!! 

This time I begged for the Paxlovid. The side effects of it rival the disease for nastiness, and I lost almost 7 pounds in 4 days. Not the way to hit my target weight. I will take my last set of pills tonight. I am hopeful it has done its job. I have moments of feeling better, followed by 2+ hours of hard sleep in the afternoon. I have been forcing myself to eat a bit more and gained back a couple of pounds which is definitely a mixed of blessing/sadness, lol. 

I was able to change my preop check up to Feb 29th. If I'm not better by then, I will have to reschedule the surgery, which likely means a lengthy delay. I'm really hoping and praying that will not ne the case, but if I have learned anything, it is that I control very little. When my body wants control, it wins. 

On a side note (but equally frustrating issue), due to a mistake my insurance company made in January, I have been without one of my MS meds for almost 3 weeks. It is very expensive, so over the counter isn't an option. I have spent countless hours trying to get it sorted out. Since it literally helps my walking ability, it is yet another sober reminder to see where my body is at with no help at all. I'm not walking much anyways these days, but still, it's just another blow. Shout out to the gal at Dartmouth Hitchcock specialty pharmacy though for giving me the work around of a Mark Cuban (yes, the shark tank guy) low cost specialty pharmacy site called Cost Plus Drugs, which looks to be a real viable option that I will pursue Monday AM after I call Acreedo one more time and am met with another flaming failure of response. This is an easy bet. 

That is the latest my friends! I will continue to keep you updated as I am able. Check back to this website or my hope4life180 FB page for the latest news!

Again, thank you for choosing to sharing in this journey with me. 

​There are times when the pace of life comes at you too fast. When life throws relentless curveballs, and you are exhausted from trying to dodge, catch or hit them. This has been my winter, spring, and now summer…
 
I’d hoped for a bit of a restful and rebuilding winter. You know, the kind that you see on tv, where there are books read, cozy fires etc. Yeah, that didn’t happen. Instead, the next several months held frustrations, fear and overwhelming discouragement and fatigue.  I as I weathered one month after another, the weight of the cumulative  discouragement and fatigue caused me to retreat inward. As mom's care requires more and more time, effort, and patience, it leaves me with little leftover to deal with the rest of life, and there has been A LOT of life to deal with.

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​After the Christmas decor was put away, and the winter decorations created, I was ready to find that recovery time. We had survived covid in December, so it seemed like a good bet that January would truly bring a fresh start. Boy, was I wrong! Instead, it brought an unknown leg issue for mom, requiring two visits to two separate ER’s and zero answers as to why she suddenly lost the ability to put weight on one of her legs. Gratefully, the serious things were eventually ruled out, and her limited mobility returned, but there were no answers as to why it happened. It did really shine a light on the fact that without some mobility for mom, me caring for her became almost impossible. It was a sobering realization, but one I didn’t have long to reflect on, because shortly after that, I got an infection in my eyelid. It was out of the blue and uncomfortable with no clear cause given from the doctors. It lasted way longer than I felt was necessary, but it wasn't contagious, so there was that. Ugh.

​​About the time my eye cleared up, mom woke up one morning and informed me she has lost two of her front teeth in her sleep. Apparently, the grinding I’d warned her about had come to fruition. That meant the rest of the month was spent with dentist appointments, molds and partials. Throughout this time I was also trying to deal with an issue with Medicaid that was not my fault, but my responsibility to fix with no clear or easy way to do so. It’s not like it was stressful or anything… twitch…twitch….

At the end of January, I finally sold my big camper! Yay! This was sure to turn things around! However, due to the previous Medicaid issues and their strict resource requirements, I had to get the new smaller camper and bigger car I’d been carefully researching immediately to avoid further issues.

I found the car I wanted in Richmond VA near my brother and son, and after some hefty negotiating, mom and I made a quick trip down to trade in my car and pick the new one up. Yay! But before I could head to northern Ohio to get the new camper, a fluid was discovered leaking from my new to me car. Turns out it was transmission fluid, something that was supposed to be covered with the car, but nothing that would come without a hard fight and numerous calls. Meanwhile, the car wasn’t supposed to be driven and it had to be serviced at a dealership. I was 3 weeks without the car. The dealership had had it longer than I had. By the time I got it back the temporary plates were expiring, requiring another round of calls begging for an additional set. In the end, the place where I bought it did everything I asked of them. I just wish it had happened without the stress and constant contact from me. 
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​By now my new camper had been sitting in northern OH for much longer than anticipated waiting for me. When the day arrived for me to finally pick it up, I was excited, but I was also sadly aware that I was also very tired. I hoped that a bit of the sparkle I had been missing would return as I began to set up my new mobile she shed. But Mother Nature wasn’t having any part of it. It got cold and miserable, making setting up the camper a chore rather than a joy. My body and spirit were tired and the cold and my joints did not appreciate each other. Making everything fit in my downsized travel trailer took way more time and effort than I expected, and it all had to be done in the hour and a half I had between mom care in the morning and the 3 hours, if I was lucky in the afternoon. Not to mention I had to share that time with furbaby care, laundry, and basic life tasks, and my MS body, that does what it wants, regardless of my plans. I started to worry if I would be able to get everything sorted and into the camper before needing to go to NH. I hated to leave the camper behind, but I didn't want to take it without going through all the boxes and bins from the big camper first. 

April didn't start off any easier as mom broke her new partial, since it turns out she is unable to take them in and out in the way they need to be handled. Add another 2 items to my morning and evening checklists. Sigh, not my favorite task. This required another round of dental visits, right before we were trying to get back to NH. (I have to say though, the folks at Aspen Dental could not have been more helpful through it all. A bright spot in a sea of frustration.)

Time was running out, though. as NH requires new registrations to be done in person. The question became whether to leave the camper behind in Ohio and go to NH to do the registration in a timely manner and come back to Ohio for the camper later or stay until the camper is ready and become illegal and wait to go back. Though it did create a lot more driving, I really wanted to just get everything legal, which would also allow me to take the camper on an inaugural camping trip to meet a favorite cozy mystery author when I returned. An issue with my son’s car that died on the interstate in VA helped make the decision easier and we took off and picked him up on our way to NH. Having the extra driver was a real blessing and we drove through the night to get back.

Our first stop in NH was McDonalds for some breakfast in Littleton. Even though my plates on the car were from VA, the “nice lady” behind me in line was kind enough to inform me that my plates were going to expire. I did not reply with the comments in my head and instead replied with a deep sigh and yes I know, thank you. The registration place in Jefferson is only open 1 ½ days a week so the rush was on. Once there, it didn’t matter that I had sold and traded in my old vehicles before the old registrations expired, in the state of NH’s eyes, it had not been renewed so my PMOOSE and PMBRLY plates were now null and void and not useable. Whatever. It’s not like I have time to write or use the camper anyway, right?... Grrrr.  At least I can still put it on the wall in the camper.
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Though the temps were uncharacteristically warm when we arrived, there was still snow on the mountains and not a leaf to be seen in Jefferson. Spring comes hard in the north country.

I wish that was the worst of the NH return. Instead, we entered the house after driving all night to find it completely trashed by squirrels and mice. I parked mom in her chair in the living room and we spent the next three hours after arriving (after driving all night) trying to vacuum and clean the floors and surfaces enough to even be able to feel safe letting the dogs inside from the porch where they'd been banished and the cat out from the carrier. What a mess! The (hopefully) final squirrel was ushered out through the porch door on morning after our arrival. I confess, the memory of a very surprised Jeffrey at the dining room table and his reaction to his surprise furry breakfast companion does bring a smile to my face at the thought, lol. Squirrels are only cute OUTSIDE.
 
A good warm meal might have helped, but apparently the propane tank was empty, so the only cooking that could be done was on the camper grill I’d left in the garage, or the counter oven/air fryer.​ I decided to just pretend I was camping....

Ah, but it gets better. While helping with outdoor cleanup, Jeff heard water running despite the warm, dry weather. It appeared to be coming from outside under the mudroom. I recalled the helper from a previous winter mentioning something about a leak under there, but I never really understood what he was talking about. I guess this was it. We shut off the water to deal with it the next day. At least it was warm so the heat wasn't as important. Besides the toilet upstairs wasn’t working anyway, so I already had to fill the tank manually. What’s a little more inconvenience at this point?
 
The next day I pulled on the work clothes and dove into the leaking panel. Despite careful planning in the removal of the panel, I was rewarded with a gush of copper colored water bathing me, while dropping a long section of copper piping in my lap. Great. I did some problem solving to help shut off the water supply to this area before Jeff pointed out it was not just one panel, but two. I was less strategic with this removal, not caring what mess would emerge. Maybe not my best decision. Soaked insulation fell in clumps around me as Jeff stared at me in disbelief at my impulsive move. A shower would have been great, but we had no water, so a trip to the pond to at least wash off my truly “copper-toned” my feet and legs had to do. ​

The outside pipe was still dripping, but not pouring water after I attempted to shut off the water to that zone. Listening to the clanging pipes trying to get water to the hot water heating system told me a call to the furnace guy was in order. He said he would come the next day, and we would once again leave the water off. In the meantime, Jeff and I got the propane tank filled. At least we could use the stop top again right? Well, that would have worked great, but the top of the tank apparently has a leak at the turn on value. Probably why it was empty in the first place. I’d like to think I would have caught that if I hadn’t been so overwhelmed with everything else. Back to camp cooking...
 
The furnace guy arrived early the following morning and shook his head in disbelief. He has been at the house so many times this fall and winter, that we are now on a first name basis. We tried to isolate the zone, but it still was dripping. Turns out the drip was the least of our problems. When the leaking pipe ran all winter, it apparently ran the well down, pulling in silt into the furnace pipes, and burnt out the auto fill, the circulator and the motor. Sometimes, there truly is no rest for the weary.
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The camper series was the first of Tonya’s series I discovered, just about a year ago as we made the long trip back to NH from Ohio listening to audiobooks. The titles of the books in the camper series all have three words that start with the same letter which give a clue to the story within. I was immediately hooked! They not only gave me the escape and virtual friends I so needed, but eventually also introduced me to a group of actual women through a Zoom book club lead by Tonya herself! I so look forward to this group every month. It's a really fun community where we can share our joys, struggles, and laugh a lot, as well as discussing Tonya’s and other author's books. It really has helped create a spark and been a bright spot each month. After listening to one of her recent releases, I decided to use her formula to create my own title for this period in my life. I came up with  “Setbacks, Stamina, and Stained Glass”.  I think it fits.

Jeff and I did what we could to clean up, fix up, and bandaid everything in NH until I could come back. We needed to leave to get Jeff back for a job he had lined up in VA and to get me back to finish up and get my camper in Ohio. We ended up doing another all night drive, and as per usual, little went according to plan. But eventually we all got to where we needed to be.
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The weather was now warmer in OH, so it wasn't as hard to finish the camper setup. A perk of being back in Ohio for Mother's Day was an amazing visit from my daughter Kari and her husband Patrick. The weather was gorgeous, the food was yummy, and my heart was full. The down side was that it made it that much harder to know we had to leave again.

After the camper was ready, I pondered my next steps. NH was waiting with all the projects waiting for attention, but my missed camping excursion made me cranky. Instead of turning right around and going straight back to NH with the now loaded camper, we combined our next move to allow Mom and I to try out the new camper while connecting with Jeff again in VA. We were still trying to sort out his car situation, and every time we thought we had it fixed, it wasn't. There could be a whole blog post of activity from just that last sentence, but know it was more or the same. Rise, persevere, continue. Mom was a trooper, and we got a quick education on my new camper and towing setup, while boondocking at several Richmond area Boondockers Welcome homes. Even in the rain, there were some lovely moments, especially when Jeffrey showed us around some of his favorite Richmond sites. Mom marveled at how tall the trees were. I must say, she loves our drives and travels!

​Eventually, Jeffrey was united with a working vehicle, though it took three attempts with various repairs to get it so. We were assured it was now a solid vehicle that should last for years. More on that later....

​All our daily concerns became trivial when we learned of the sudden and horribly aggressive cancer death of a young cousin, taking him from running 25 miles a week to his death in just over a couple weeks time. He left behind a wife and two young daughters, and a thriving PT practice. It was devastating to everyone who knew him.  We lost his mom too soon just a year and a half ago, so this seemed a cruel and heartless blow to the family. Suddenly, the frailty of life was brought into perspective. We were able to time our trip north to allow us to attend his service, and hold our family close.

Since the service was held in RI, we were able to savor a quick visit with my uncle and aunt who live there.  My visits with them have always been a time of healing and rest for me and this time was no different. Views of the cove, and walks to the beach combined with good food, company, and furbabies began to pull me from the winter depression and darkness I had been trapped in. They are moments I hold dear and cherish.

Recently though, I found a quote that gave me a glimmer of hope. It was from a book we read for my zoom bookclub. It was a simple line from another cozy mystery book called “Beyond the Boardwalk” by Summer Prescott. “Rita squared her shoulders, held her head high, and marched to the door. If there was a crisis, she would handle it. That was her superpower.”  Wait, that’s my superpower too, I thought!

Then I found another quote from one of my favorite retailers “Natural Life”. “It’s ok if all you did today was survive.” Yes! Surviving matters. Continuing matters. It isn’t just the big wins that count, but the showing up every day for the same mundane, but equally important tasks that matters. 

I looked back at my pictures searching for that quote and saw pictures of the moose Jeff and I saw while in NH in April. A blessing indeed! There were silly pictures with Jeff. and I. Further back there were pics from an IKEA trip that I thought mom might enjoy, while forgetting how hard it was to get through that store, and where I subsequently lost, but then found through a good Samaritan, my phone. The stories may not be the joyful ones I want, but they are still stories, and If I look closely, there is always a spark of light in each one, even if it is small. My stained glass moments.
 
So, my inspirational message to myself and anyone else reading this is sometimes just showing up is a victory. Doing it repeatedly is a superpower. Stamina, in the face of adversity is how you get through. Life isn’t just a series of sprints. Sometimes, it’s a marathon. This has been a very long hill I have been climbing, but I have continued to climb. It’s not just the big wins that counts, but all the mundane little ones along the way that move us forward. It IS ok if all you did today was survive.
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I think I’m going to start posting hopeful and encouraging quotes to my “Hope4life180” page again, if only to remind myself that every day I rise is a day already won. When I start to post pics of my pups again and comment on fun “National Days of…” you’ll know I’m beginning to emerge from the cave. For so long I haven’t been able to share anything light because it seemed to dismiss the heavy darkness I fought behind the scenes. But I have begun to notice moments of joy again and see that even a dim light can light the way.  That is hope. 
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​I wrote the above in May. Before I could find the will or time to post it, June had arrived. Upon arriving again in NH, it held cold, rainy, weather, and an overgrown field demanding attention to keep critters at bay while the fur babies played, not to mention all the bandaided things we left in April, still needing attention. The well water is now discolored, so we are getting water every few days from a nearby spring for drinking and adding addressing that concern to the ever growing to do list.

​The latest sucker punch is that the car we worked so hard to repair and get to Jeff was stolen, with much of his day to day and treasured items, as he was traveling in it at the time. It has been a nightmare of calls to insurance and the police, that has recreated sleepless nights and a weariness that has once again settled deep within my soul. Everything that needs to be done here at the house is overwhelming, and the toll of number of times I have to go up and down the stairs to my childhood bedroom every day, along with all the outdoor tasks, have brought a level of physical fatigue I haven't felt since, well, last summer. I’m not ok, but I’m holding onto hope that I will be. For now, my fur babies lay at my feet, sensing I need their presence to ground me in a sea of uncertainty. The forecast keeps calling for warmer weather, but northern NH hasn’t seemed to get the message. The calendar pic above that I borrowed from a friend can add more rain to days 28 and 29. I long for temps above low 70s. I'm holding out hope mother nature will be kinder in July.
 
But I’m trying to dig deep. I choose and put on my ZOX bracelets with intent to remind me of the messages hidden on the inside that I need to hear. Still I rise. Never give up. Continue. The bracelets I struggle to put on are the ones reminding me care for myself, and choose my needs. I think that choice is the hardest, and yet it is screaming in my ears and heart, if I choose to listen. But it is stirring, and I’m allowing myself to hear it as a whisper, and that is a start. Baby steps. Posting this makes me say it out loud, admit it and sets a path for me to follow with some accountability.​

Recently though, I had a moment that made me smile, gave me hope, and joy all at once. It is related to a previous post I wrote about " Finding Joy". I've inserted the link below in case you are interested in the back story. ​

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This story begins last summer when 2 friends and I emptied the final items from the old camper to be stored until the time came to use them again. While we were packing, I suddenly remembered the "joy" sticker from the above post. I asked them about it, when I realized its previous place of honor was no longer in the camper. My friend swore it was in one of the boxes, but couldn't recall which one it was in. I knew it was in there somewhere, and accepted the fact that it would surface again when I needed it.

​Fast forward to last week while I was trying to decide if I could make space for my small portable DVD player, in a camper that has space, but apparently not the weight allowances for all I want to travel with. As I pulled out the Vera Bradley bag that held my mini player, I gasped! There it was. My JOY! Not only had I found it, but it was stuck to one of my old business cards from when I had the Purple Moose Discovery Center, my children's museum, and motivator for my Purple Moose books.

Today that came as a random song on the radio. It was an oldie from Jodee Messina that lead me down a delightful rabbit hole of music that filled my heart, and had me singing along loudly! Well, until mom complained about the music being too loud, lol. Figures we were on our way back from getting her ears cleaned out and her hearing aids tuned up, lol. Still, once I put in my single headset to sing to, my vocals were the first time I had sung in months. Talk about losing a huge part of yourself! Once we got home and got everyone settled inside, I might have even taken 10 minutes to sneak into the car alone and crank my awesome car stereo I've never really taken advantage of and sang along at the top of my lungs. Hey, it was raining, no one was on the road and I'm in rural NH. It's a perk, and one of the rabbit hole song seemed appropriate, in message and weather.

May these moments of joy continue to multiply and be enough to fuel the hope I need to get through whatever challenges each day brings.

​I had someone tell me recently, that I was one of the strongest people they knew. It was intended as a compliment, and I took it as such. But it did get me thinking. To be strong implies, well, strength. Doing difficult things and making it look easy. I’m writing this to shed a little bit more light on that process.
 
Here’s the thing. When you really think about it, all strength, physical or emotional, is born from pain. 

​When you go to a gym to work out, your muscles hurt afterwards. Adrenaline might get you started, but soon after the reality of the pain kicks in. That is part of the process. It is the tearing down before building up. I believe, this is the main reason why many people never find their way to a place of physical or emotional strength. We hate pain. Rather than confront it and push through it, we do everything in our power to avoid it, or at least distract ourselves from it. We stop when things get hard. We look for something else that is easier. We find ways to dull or numb the pain. We avoid pain at all costs. But the truth is, without pushing through the pain, we do not get stronger. 

​Here is the second key element to strength. Persistence. It is knowing something is going to be hard, and probably hurt, but doing it anyway. It's not giving up, despite the pain. It's showing up again and again, even when it's hard. I like to think of myself as very persistent. I can be a bit of a stubborn bulldog sometimes and not let things go. This is a trait that both serves me well and can be a tad self-destructive at times. It is what propels me forward when I face hard things. It is the dogged determination to not be defeated. I suspect, this is what most people think of, when they think about what makes a person strong. There is no strength without the physical and/or metal commitment to return to the gym. But just because I am persistent, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I think people forget that. Muscles don’t get stronger by going to the gym and lifting 10-pound weights forever. Oh, there is indeed value in that, but to lift heavy things, you need strong muscles. That means enduring the pain that comes with the process. Persistence means a willingness to return to the pain in order to get the job done. 

​This is the part I really want you to know. Part of being strong sucks. It hurts. It is not easy. There are so many times when I want to give up. There are times I fight against bitterness. I get angry at not just having to deal with the things I am dealing with, but that for most of this journey, it is something I have to do alone. I pout. I get angry. I sulk. I do all the avoidance things. But it is not until I allow the real tears of sorrow to roll down my cheeks, that I know I have faced the pain. Then, the next step becomes my choice. Do I stay in the sadness, or do I get up and do the hard things required to move forward? 

​I am NOT writing this for sympathy. In fact, I kind of hate that. I don’t want you to feel badly for me. I always kinda cringe inwardly when I see someone who puts a care emoji on one of my posts. Not because I don’t appreciate it, but because I feel like the situation doesn't really call for it. Save them for the big things. The deaths, the big mountains of loss. I can’t afford to look at every daily struggle in my life as something requiring sympathy. I’d never get out of bed otherwise. We don’t send sympathy to someone going to the gym daily. Ok, that might be a bad example. I kinda hate gym posts because they just make me feel guilty because I don’t do what they do. I share hard things because I want you to know that just because something is hard, doesn’t mean we can’t get through them. I want to encourage people. I don’t want to be the gym posts that make you feel bad about yourself. I do want you to know that being strong doesn’t mean it is easy. Just because you see the accomplishment, doesn’t mean there wasn’t a struggle. My goal is to send the message we can all do hard things. Hard things are easier when we do them together. But what does that look like? 

​In leaving Ohio, I’ve found myself annoyed recently by a well-intended, but annoyingly frequent, trite response of  “So sorry. Hugs” It pisses me off every time, and yet, I know those response come from a place of great care, but not knowing what else to say or do. And I much appreciate those words to the silence of no response at all. So, I asked myself, what is it you really want to hear? I gave it serious thought, and this is what I came up with Either offer to help, join me in the hard place, or cheer me on. What does that look like? 

​Help.
If you have the ability to help or make some part of someone’s struggle easier, do so. Or, offer to do so, and then actually follow through and do it. Please don’t offer if you can’t follow through. That just makes it harder. It is very hard to ask for help, but harder still to do so and be met with silence. The worst though, is when help is offered and not followed through on. This is not intended to guilt anyone! I am just trying to be honest with what it feels like from my perspective. This is my journey, and I don’t expect anyone else to do it for me. It is my battle to fight. But a helping hand now and then, does go a long way to smooth the road.

​Join me.
 Sometimes, we just need to vent. We need to roll around in the mud and be angry and pissy and complain. I have a dear friend who is wonderful about letting me be a mess, without trying to fix or change it for me. She comes alongside me and lets me wallow and I know she will pull me out if I get stuck there. Usually, after I listen to myself complain enough though, it motivates me into action to move from that place. Remember, pain is part of the “strong” process. The messy part is a big part of the pain. It’s ok to complain. It's ok to be yucky. It’s just not ok to stay there. Taking the time to read these blog posts is a huge way for you to come alongside me in this. That is what makes it a shared load. It is a real gift and the biggest way to help me in my journey. But I am very aware that joining me requires not only effort and time, but the willingness for you to allow yourself to experience some of the discomfort and pain I feel in this journey. That is not an easy task and probably the hardest of the three to do. So, thank you for taking the time to read this and being willing to walk beside me for a while. Your sacrifice in doing so does not go unnoticed and is appreciated.

​Cheer me on.
 I cannot say enough how important this part is. More than help, or joining me, the cheerleaders are what really get me through everything, everyday. They are the ones that see the humor in the craziness and laugh with me. They are the ones that know that this is hard, and love that I’m still kicking it! I love when people laugh about and love my crazy tales and antics. Life is like running a marathon. Having people cheer you on from the sidelines, is often just enough to get you through the next hard patch. You run much of a marathon on your own, but those cheering moments, make the journey so much easier!

So, yes, I am strong. I am also broken, weak and face pain. That is ok. They are not mutually exclusive. You can’t really have one without the other. You are strong too. The pain you face is the exact pain that will make you stronger.  Just remember, we won’t be strong all the time. Pain is part of the process. Just don’t get struck in the pain without the persistence to push through the other side to strength. Equally, don’t spend your persistence avoiding and pretending there is no pain.
 
Help others when you can. Come along side as you are able. And always cheer each other on as we run. We’ve got this. Together.
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Thank you for joining me in this journey. 

​March is MS Awareness month. It’s an opportunity to educate people about MS; What it is, what it means, and why it is important to learn about it. Here’s the problem. It makes people uncomfortable. People are uncomfortable with pain. They don’t like to talk about it, they are reluctant to share it when they are experiencing it, and they often look for quick fixes to allow them to change the subject. But discomfort doesn’t have to build walls between people. Instead, it can be an opportunity for empathy.

What is empathy? How is it different from sympathy? To put it simply, sympathy is to feel pity and sorrow for someone else's misfortune. Empathy means to share in another person’s emotion. It’s a willingness to try to understand what they are experiencing. When a person is diagnosed with a chronic disease there is usually an initial rush of support from friends and family. But with a lifelong disease that usually only gets worse, there isn’t a finish line to cheer you on to. It’s an endless battle that is exhausting to navigate not only as a patient, but also for those around them.
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During an awareness month, you are given the opportunity to better understand the conditions your loved one lives with. It may make you uncomfortable. That’s ok. Don’t run from it. Instead, lean into it. The best thing you can do is to take the time to share in just a fraction of what your friend lives with before you return to your normal life. 

​We don’t need you to try to fix it. Or give us the latest remedy you read about online. Or tell us that your Aunt Jane has this too, and is fine. Maybe her disease hasn’t progressed as ours has, or maybe she doesn’t share what she experiences with you. What we want is for you to try to understand. In the moments when you put yourselves in our shoes, perhaps a light bulb goes off in your heart and you think, “Wow. That must be so hard.” It is the acknowledgment of our struggle. It validates us and gives us the feeling of someone walking beside us for a few moments to share in our journey and help shoulder the burden. 

We know it is hard. We live with it every day. But most of us aren’t looking for sympathy, just someone to stand beside us from time to time and cheer us on. We are running marathons, not a sprint. During a sprint race, the track is lined with cheering crowds to help push you forward quickly. In a marathon, after you leave the group of supporters at the starting line, you run most of the race on your own, buoyed by the others around you running the same race. They alone, can really understand the path you travel. But the road is long and there are times when you run the race completely alone. That’s when the cheerleaders are so important. They are like the support stations set up throughout a marathon; the medical tent, the water handed out, and friends and family at key spots that are just waiting to cheer you on in your journey.
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Having MS is like running in many marathons. One race ends. You are exhausted, but those around you at the end of this race help pick you up and warm you up with a blanket until you recover. But you are a marathon runner and it won’t be long before the next event is here and you will need to run again. It may be a completely new course, with new and unique challenges. But even if it is the same course, you will not run the same race. There will be different runners with you. The conditions will be different. You may not have had enough of a break in between to prepare. This is life with MS.

I’ve had some amazing cheerleaders throughout the course of my illnesses. I don’t think it is a coincidence that some of the folks that have cheered the loudest are ones that fight their own difficult battles. They know what it feels like to fall and rise over and over again. Since my TM/MS battle began, I have lost 4 cheerleaders to their own illnesses, two within the last year. It’s a sobering reminder of our mortality, and the void of their presence is palpable to me.
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The MS journey is different for everyone. It is even different for us in our own day to day adventures. Each day brings with it a complicated set of symptoms that range from annoying to major life impacting realities that can change for us day to day, hour to hour or even minute to minute. There are some symptoms that set up residence and are here for the long haul. Others come and go. We learn to develop a wide range of coping mechanisms and sometimes have to work very hard to appear “normal” or make it look effortless. Ask someone who is battling MS about how the simple task of taking a shower can be an exhausting part of a day. Every day holds a new challenge.

We share our stories not for sympathy. Sometimes, it is a way to reach out a hand to say “Come walk with me a while, for this hill is steep and I am tired.” You would be amazed at the strength that can come from walking with a friend in empathy. It changes nothing, and yet it changes everything. Sometimes, it is a way for us to offer you valuable lessons our adventure has given us. Each person in life has their own journey they travel with valleys and oceans to cross, and hills and mountains to scale. The MS battles are not easy, but because we fight them daily, there are lessons we sometimes learn along the way that helps us to refocus on what is important. We learn to persevere and how to hold onto hope in darkness. If we let it, our pain can teach us and we can share that bridge with others when they need it. If telling my story can bring hope or encouragement to anyone else in struggle, I am happy to share it.
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MS Awareness is a way to say this condition is hard, and there is no cure. We want to support research for better treatments and maybe even a cure some day. But more importantly, it is an opportunity for empathy, not only for those with MS, but for those with other chronic conditions and struggles. So, as I share about MS this month (or at any time) don’t be afraid to learn about it and walk beside me for a bit. As we walk together, it is my hope that we may both come away feeling perhaps a bit more connected, and maybe even a little bit stronger, too.

I was hoping to meet my goal of posting a new blog post at least once a month. With the month quickly drawing to a close, I didn’t expect this to be my catalyst. They cancelled my vaccine shot. Less than 24 hours before it was supposed to happen, I got an email saying it was cancelled. To say I was devastated is an understatement. It was their stupid screw up, but it dropped me to my knees. The hope that had finally begun to take root was ripped out from within me with what felt like wolverine claws. 

I called the location with dogged determination, until I had a human on the line. The poor girl on the other side knew what was coming. I could hear it in her fearful voice when she answered after a brief hold. I let her have it anyway. I knew it wasn’t her fault. I knew she had no control to change a thing, but in my broken state, she was the only voice I had to hear my pleas. I did apologize and eventually behaved more like the person I want to be, rather than the one that was lashing out in pain. Perhaps because of my pleas, or maybe in spite of them, she put me on a waiting list. Their screw up even made the state nightly news. I wasn’t the only one rocked by the scheduling nightmare. It was a location change. Instead of rolling all the appointments over to the new location, it became a new slot free for all. Mom is now scheduled for March 22 at the original site. In the time it took me to realize I had such a monumental email in my inbox, every available spot within a 100 mile radius until April was taken. The closest time and location for me was for March 23, in Claremont, NH, 2 and a half hours away. I was crushed.

By the time I got off the phone, all the pain of the last year came crashing down around me. I sobbed. I cried for the time that had been lost, for the missed visits with loved ones, for the friends I’d lost over the last year, and for those lost that I never knew. I cried for the heart aches so many of my friends seem to be up against right now. I cried for my body that has suffered with the lost time and lack of treatment. I cried for my mom and for the pain of being a caregiver, and that I needed to be one. It was a long time coming. A dam of tears can grow big in a year.

​The tears eventually subsided, but the emotional hangover was still hanging in the air palpably. How do you find hope again when you finally acknowledge the grief that is overwhelming you?

For me, it started with going outside with the dogs. Cold air and happy dogs, will at least get your heart beating again. Then came Brene’ Brown on the Audible, and she offered a perspective on loss I needed to hear. Eventually, I allowed myself to just breathe.
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The truth is, sometimes you need to fall before you can get back up again. I needed to fall apart. It was the first step in being able to put myself together again. For the last few months, I knew my grip had been weakening. I tried to force myself to hold on, and to be positive. The holidays offered a distraction and a temporary goal. With the holidays past, I struggled for hope to cling to. For me, the vaccine became my hope. It offered the promise of so much in one little shot. I sunk every bit of hope I had into that promise. When that was taken from me, my weary grip gave way. 
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​Beautiful homes can be created when the broken and weary parts are torn away and new is created in its place. But in order to do that, you first have to do the demolition work. Brene’ Brown reminded me that the mess is part of the process. We try so hard to avoid the messy, dark and broken parts of life, but the only way to really change and fix them is to face them, name them and address them. 

There is a lot of work to do. For now, I plan to keep all the diagnostic tests that were so carefully scheduled for February 17th at Dartmouth, even without the vaccine. I cannot face and do all I need to until I can physically feel better myself. That is the first step. I can only pray I will stay healthy until and after those appointments.

​Ironically, that will be the same day Kari will have her back surgery that they just scheduled today. To make matters worse, Kari's fiancé, Pat, just learned he was exposed to a co-worker that has tested positive for Covid, so he is now quarantining and will be tested on Sunday. And Jeffrey is dealing with some old injuries that are now demanding attention, as well.

​There is a lot to be strong for.

But a house is not renovated in a day. For now, I will focus on creating a plan for rebuilding my emotional strength, much as the builder renovates step by step. I am prepared to do the hard work. I will find my feisty again. But for today, I’m going to rest in the understanding that it’s ok to be emotionally spent. This year has taken an enormous toll on everyone. We have all been emotional warriors. But our bodies require rest, and so does our spirit. ​

My search for daily sparkle has lead to empty pages. Rather than leave the spots blank as reminders of days without sparkle, I have decided to make them pages for sparkle and/or gratitude. I may not always find sparkle, but I can always find something to be grateful for.

​Sometimes, that is enough. ​