Day 6 – Write about a time you had to take the high road I sometimes wonder at the irony of Sjogren’s syndrome, which often makes it hard to shed a tear, much less cry me a river. Whenever I cry now, I rub the tears into my eyes and
Introduction During November, I’m writing a series of posts for National Health Blog Post Month. The event is organized by WEGO Health, a great organization that brings together health activists from around the world. What’s a health activist you might ask? A health activist is, not surprising, typically a person
Recently, I heard it described that depression is a liar. It deceives us into believing all hope and joy is sucked out of the moment in which we live. I don’t know if it’s a liar so much as a thief, sneaking in on little feet, gradually drawing all the
I’ve seen chaos personified over the last few weeks. Through the eyes of someone I love dearly, I’ve seen fear of what might become, fear of change, grasping for the rigidity of what is right now, while all the time the world of work and bills and society keeps plodding
After a lot of soul-searching, I found a blog title that said something of what I wanted to say about a life with invisible illnesses – autoimmune disease, pain, depression and dissociation. For the first time in weeks I’ve found a moment of strength to say something. While I want
This is a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. Having been through a somewhat hectic week, and feeling rather strung out by recent pain levels, I thought I’d try to jot down some of my thoughts in a more experiential post, and at a later time,
I come to writing today wrung out, hollowed, disappointed, ashamed. I can forgive myself the days that lapsed since my last entry. I sank into the recesses of a cave, and there I went through the motions of life in the grip of a depression so strange I can not
I seem to have my sleep cycles back to front at the moment, but to be honest, I’m just trying to get through the days. Today was a startling spring day in the Cowichan Valley. I say startling because when I came into the office in mid-morning, the light was
During a discussion of pain and pain management with a good online friend (you can see his remarkable photography here), my friend Michael made the remark that the efforts of those who cope with chronic pain are heroic. It’s certainly not a typical way to view ourselves. My frequent experience
I am the part of me I can’t accept. I think of dark things. I am twenty-five years old. I live behind closed doors, afraid of who might come to call, afraid that I will have to speak. Sometimes when I go outside. I cross the road so I don’t