The simple secret of loving someone or interacting with someone who has an invisible illness and/or chronic pain, is this:  "That really sucks. I'm sorry that you're dealing with that, it sounds like Hell. Is there anything I can do to help?" 

I love ice cream. Like, I'm the girl from Michigan who's all, "It's 55 degrees guys! Time for ice cream!"

I never don't want ice cream.

It's a running joke in my relationship. I'd rather get ice cream than flowers or jewelry. Ok well maybe not jewelry. But I love ice cream a lot is all I'm saying.

Have I yet mentioned that I live in a town in South Central Tennessee that isn't super alternative-diet friendly? They put meat in everything in the south, y'all. Even green beans. Green beans have meat. Let that sink in...

There was a period in early June, before my doctor and I got the Gabapentin to levels that made a significant impact in which everything is a blur and I lost chunks of whole days because my brain dissociated. Pain that intense creates a sort of mental prison that the sufferer can get trapped and lost in. At least that was the case for me. There were times when I was home alone or at night when I needed to be sleeping and the pain was so intense and sustained such high levels that I would be crying and wishing for escape, thinking, "If this is what life is going to feel like long term, I don't want to live."

I was lucky because I never had to be alone for very long.

I dared to get up off of the couch. I turned 'just so' as I did and that was it. The left side of my back went into a full on "What the cuss?!?" Spasm. My mouth did other things, said other, more colorful things. I knew that moving too far or too quickly just became not even kind of an option. So, I turned on my heating pad (which was thankfully right next to me) and laid down. Laying down is where I've stayed. Today sucks.

But it's not the end of the world. This mental slump I'm in? I'll get out of it by tomorrow morning, probably. Here's my pledge to anyone reading this, any friend or follower or client and even to myself:

I am not the creator of this mug, it was a gift from a friend. If you decide you must have this mug, you can find it by clicking here. I am the creator of this blog although I have little idea what exactly that means yet. Roughly, I want to share my thoughts on living with chronic pain or a chronic illness (in my case, Degenerative Disc Disease) while (and in part thanks to) building a successful home-based business.