Until We Fly

Last year, I was alone for a great part of a Crohn's flare.  Michele came to me in September, but this fight will be one year long in mid-July.  Sure, I have felt alright, even felt as if I was close to remission at times.  Autoimmune Arthritis has been with me the entire year, with patches of good days.  I have fought through with the utmost respect for my disease, the people around me, and any person with a debilitating condition.  And I was excited, proud even, to do it alone.  I had learned myself in ways that some people can only dream of.

Sickness comes and goes, and unfortunately, has recently come back to me.  My small body is weaker each day, and I struggle with teeny tasks like traveling, using my hands to grasp things, or walking up and down stairs.  There is always a sinking feeling that the pain will come back when you have a chronic disease.  There's a microscopic dude in the back of my mind with a gas lantern and megaphone screaming, 'I'm gonna git ya!'.  He's a real downer.  You learn to sort of press on, no matter the anxiety, and no matter the circumstance.  Because really, what else can you do?  People have told me that they think I'm brave, strong.  But I think that too few people understand the concept of keeping calm, and pressing on.  I felt alone, but knew that I had great friends and a kick-ass family to get me through the bullshit.  I also didn't have a choice but to show my 'rawr' face.

I was cold this winter.  Tired.  The fight had gone on for so long, and no one really understood my plight.  I knew myself, and what I deserved out of life.  Out of love.  And I waited.

On February 1st, my life changed.

A light had started following me everywhere I hobbled.  A fella seemed to understand... I found myself smiling for no reason.

[Even more than usual.]

I thought, 'Could this person that I have met [On Ok Cupid, mind you...] actually care about my inner body?  What I eat?  What makes me smile when I am weak,  and breathe easy when the pain is this trying?'...

I had my doubts.  I still struggle with it sometimes.  But the language in the picture above is what he speaks.  Loud and clear.  Without a megaphone.  And he's even louder than Lantern Man.

He helped me hang my flyers.

And never once hesitated to back me up when others just didn't understand what I was going through.

He's asked this little bird who cannot fly to stay in his nest for good.  With three tremendously generous tweeters who sincerely give a hoot.  I love them. 

I can feel my wings healing, but if you asked me today, I'd tell you it's his heart that's making me feel like I've already been soaring.