I found my happy place. It was closed.

I have serious love for this title, which is why it pains me to confess that the words aren't mine. They were coined by a longtime friend and came up during a discussion about chronic illnesses, pain, and living life. Credit where credit is due. The first two problems make living life more challenging. I'm …

Continue reading I found my happy place. It was closed.

The bags under my eyes.

The bags under my eyes officially qualify as suitcases, in case you haven’t had enough overused clichés today. Unfortunately, while trite, the phrase is accurate. The bags are suitcase-y indeed. I suspect it’s because of all the sleep I’m not getting. I’d take the magic pills, but they’re a transitory fix. The problem is pain, …

Continue reading The bags under my eyes.