#SEBestLife

Some say it's genetics and others say it's lotion. Either way, I've always looked at least  5  years younger than the age on my birth certificate. I embrace natures mystery, essentially I've shaved a couple years off of my age every year because of it (lol). But this year, this year! I'm conflicted. You see, last year was supposed to be my last birthday. Last year  on October  15,  I spent my birthday in the activities room of my hospital floor. I was surrounded by close friends and family. In an air of somber happiness we laughed, we listened to music, we ate chicken wings, and chocolate covered strawberries. We celebrated my life. We celebrated my  birthday  for what we thought was the last time together.  The fact that I am a day from my birthday, a year later is a miracle. When doctors told me I wouldn't, he told me I would. All I needed was the faith of a mustard seed. I was assigned that mountain to show others it could be moved. Somehow...

Between the dull aching pain of my joints, the searing torture of my intestines, or the ridiculous amounts of legal drugs constantly flowing through my body;  I never sleep . You'd think I'd be so grateful that I had more time in a day to accomplish things right? But really I'm constantly walking around functioning like the walking dead. Zombie life is so real,  insomnia  is one of those side effects of chronic illness no one ever tells you about. No one says "you'll be physically and mentally exhausted, but your body will not sleep". The worst part isn't that I'm in pain and I can't sleep, the worst part is that I'm awake alone with my thoughts all the time. A never ending stream of consciousness. Our minds can be our greatest assets or our worst nightmares. I try to occupy the hours with writing blogs, reading for my graduate school classes, or binge watching  Scandal;  but nothing really helps me evade the innocuous thoughts that constan...

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". Whoever said that, was a fucking lie. A bold faced, making shit all the way up, LIE! I don't remember the specific day I heard this as a child, but I know for a long time I really and truly believed the things people said to me didn't matter. They couldn't hurt me, because they were only words. Things that I had the choice to give power too or not. There was no insult, no demeaning or belittling statement, that could bother me. Well, so I thought. The truth is, my truth is, the things people say  DO   ACTUALLY HURT .  This is going to get real uncomfortable, but bear with me... I'm just a woman with an iPhone confessing my truths, one key stroke at a time.  I thought that while on one hand, there was nothing anyone could say that would penetrate my armor; and on the other, people usually said what they meant, and meant what they say. What people said to me and how they said it, didn...

*While these blogs are all submissions that represent a truth that I am owning for myself. This particular submission is not directly a reflection of one particular relationship, it does not find its inspiration from any one soul, but rather a collection of experiences and people that I have loved unauthentically. For in my heart I know it was "The Bells" who I really wish I had confessed my truth too, no individual person is responsible for this revelation. I actually had a conversation with a friend who said something to me which made me look deep into myself and ask myself WHY? "On-Call Relationship" is the term that was used. So "San Diego Dispatch", thank you for helping me own my truth.* So let's get into it... I've used this definition before, but that's because it's imperative you understand the literal meaning of this word, before you understand  my truth .  Intentions:  [in- ten -sh uh   n]    noun 1. an   act   or  ...

Ever since I made the decision to accept my truths, and ALL that they might surface I've been so happy . It's unnerving. I can't stop smiling, I've had the most wonderful conversations with the folks in my life. I feel a calm and peace that I can't articulate beyond that.  I've talked so much on the phone lately, I'm starting to wonder why I ever despised it in the first place. Once a certain level of candor is reached within a relationship dynamic it's really quite beautiful. I spent ELEVEN hours talking to my biological parents. The things I learned about them, ABOUT ME . It's like wow. I opened my closet and all sorts of emotions came out. It's beautiful really.  My face literally hurts from smiling I'm so happy. Hindsight may be 20/20, but looking back on things I thought were so important in the past is hilarious. On one hand I'm ashamed of my immaturity, but on the other I'm so proud of my growth. I stopped being frien...

 I   find myself simultaneously holding on to a life that is no longer mine, while playing a guest appearance in the life I'm now living. Temporarily making a cameo until I return to that which is me. I think that's the hardest part about being "real" sick. Some part of you thinks it's not real, it's just a dream, any moment you'll wake up and rejoice in your old life before the nightmare. Reconnecting and catching up on all the things you've missed while you were gone. Then something happens and it hits you like a wrecking ball, you're already awake. You're not a guest actor. You've been going through the motions, pinning for another lifetime, the other you. The one you love and miss dearly.  I heard a song on the radio the other day that I wasn't really listening too until I heard "it's ok not to be ok, your tears don't mean you're losing" came blaring over the speakers. I was off in outer space contemplating...

When I was thinking of the subtitle of my blog I initially wanted to include Crohn's Disease. Kind of like paying homage, paying my respect for the fact it was the very thing that started this all. Technically, I was diagnosed with it first. Like a principle thing you know? But honestly, I wanted to make a pun on the Promise from the Declaration of Independence. That is, Life, Liberty; and the pursuit of happiness. [go look back at blog title, lol].  Crohn's is one of those kinds of diseases where you get diagnosed, and you don't really think it's that bad until you've had an ACTUAL bad day. I had my actual bad day on, SEPTEMBER SECOND, TWO THOUSAND and FIFTEEN. Yes, that is the very inspiration for the title of my blog. It was the day my life changed forever. The visions of who I thought I was going to be were all destroyed that day. As long as I live, I will remember SEPTEMBER SECOND. Don't get me wrong. I threw up everything including water for two stra...