I easily forget that I created this blog as an open space to connect and be open with you all. I created this space for people to feel invited and understood even if just one sentence resonated with them.

I created an Instagram page for my poetry and my book that I published almost 2 years ago. I had all the right intentions of marketing and continuing to write and yet I have found myself in a place where it triggers me. Being unable to work has heightened a whole other level of anxiety for me.

I find that my home is the biggest safe haven for me. The sun can be shining and the weather could be great but I would rather be home in bed blasting music through my ears. To feel the presence of distant memories is what I thrive to grip onto between four walls.

On top of anxiety I deal with my MS which leads to depression. Recently, I was ordered an arm crutch through my physical therapist and I figured in my mind: “hey this is what you need for stability and avoiding falls and can even help your long pending disability case.” Okay, that sounds all politically correct but hot tears still stream from my eyes.

The reality of my circumstances I fight for it to be seen and also hide it from my heart so it won’t further shatter. I started going back to therapy 3 weeks ago and I’m trying to remain positive about it. I want to be able to connect with this person, not seeing them yawn or seem uninterested. There’s one therapist I connected with heavily but doesn’t take my insurance.

That in itself broke my heart because she knew every detail and wanted to find details through my bones! She knew how to draw me out.. I feel like the parts of me that I held on to so tight I had to let go and I’m grieving each phase in doses. My words and thoughts are all of the place as I’m typing this but I don’t know any other way to explain it.

This is raw feelings and emotions that I know at least one person can relate to. This is what anxiety, depression and chronic illness will do to you.