Me. My fight, my battle, my new normal.

Welcome.  Welcome to me.  My name is Aimee, I have recently been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Here I am.  I kick ass.  In fact, I imagine myself a little like this:

Only, I am fatter than this, the boots are even more fabulous (more about boots later...) I have freckles and shorter arms and legs.  And, my boobs are bigger. But really, The rest is all me.  I am a warrior, seeking truth, pain relief, and yummy desserts (more about the dessert quest later.  LOTS more.)


I like to write.  In fact, a wonderful lady, Jane Juska, (read her books, Unaccompanied Women and A Round-Heeled Woman) was once my creative writing teacher, far far away in the Greater San Francisco Bay Area, and she was instrumental in helping me to love writing.  My mom helped me to love reading, and Jane brought out the writer in me.  The quest for attention, glory and chuckles is all mine.

Anyhoooo.  (fibro fog does this, but don't be fooled, I was a scatter-brained nutjob before diagnosis, the shit is just supersonic now...) I am working through all the issues that come with a life-changing diagnosis, and the journey it has taken me on (I know, ending with a preposition, Jane taught me better...). Because, a diagnosis is not the end.  It is a beginning.  Here are all the things that have begun for me:

• New foods (I have discovered some food allergies
• New thoughts about myself
• New friends
• New journeys
• New hobbies
• New goals, hopes, desires, dreams

All this has become my "new normal", a term my therapist says ALL THE TIME. Well, at least several times each Thursday between noon ans 12:50pm.


I am going to go through my journey with you, for me.  I need to vent, I need to spew some creative juices and lord knows, I don't have room for any more crap, and I just want to write, finally.  This fibro crap has given me some surprisingly wonderful things, like free time. more on this later.In the meantime, imagine the fabulous superhero figure above.  Except, she is a massive blur because she is constantly on the go, she has a furrowed brow, she is carrying an overwhelmingly full plate of crap, tasks, to-do's, and other things, and there is chaotic music playing in the background-either that crazy do-do-do-do-do-do- circus music you hear when jugglers are about, or that song from the 80's, by Matthew Wilder, Break My Stride.  (You know, "Ain't nothin' gonna break-a my stride, Ain't nothin' gonna slow me down, oh-no, I got ta keep on movin'.) This is my fab artistic interpretation:

I think that is enough for now-I have a habit of overwhelming people. Sorry 'bout that.


Peace.