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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/kenzie/day/2-14-2024
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by Kenzie Author IconMail Icon
Rated: ASR · Book · Writing · #1160028
Fibro fog, pain, writing sandwiched in between. Quotes. Sermon notes. Encouragement.
A Texas Sunrise

Sunrise on Surfside Beach, Texas

A friend, William Taylor, took this picture. He visits Surfside Beach with his dogs almost every morning, watching the sun rise while the dogs prance about at the water's edge.

This is only about ten miles from where I lived in Lake Jackson, Texas. Sadly, I only visited this beach about four times in the six years I lived nearby.




Each day is a challenge. A challenge to get by without thinking about the fibromyalgia pains. A challenge to stay awake when chronic fatigure wants to take over. And a challenge to navigate through fibro fog.

I haven't been writing as much as in the past. For years, I wrote at least 500 words a day. Now, I'm lucky if I write 500 words in month. Sigh.

For more information about what my day (or life) is all about with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, chronic pains, IBS, depression and everything else thrown in, check this out:

It's a New Day Open in new Window. (E)
My pain and welcome to it.
#1028189 by Kenzie Author IconMail Icon


Sunrise on Surfside Beach, Texas
February 14, 2024 at 8:07pm
February 14, 2024 at 8:07pm
#1064194
My mom used to sing a song about the word "can't". In our house, you were not allowed to say that you couldn't do something.

She sang, "I'll never, ever say I can't. I'll always say I'll try."

The other word that we couldn't say was "hate". We definitely were not allowed to hate people. We could hate their actions, but not them. We were allowed to dislike foods, but only after we had tried them. And even then, we had to try them again periodically, in case our tastes changed.

I tried to instill these same ideas in my son's growing years. And, yes, I did sing the song to him. *Smile*


****In 1902, an aspiring young writer received a rejection letter from the poetry editor of The Atlantic Monthly. Enclosed with a sheaf of poems the 28-yr-old poet had sent was this curt note: "Our magazine has no room for your vigorous verse." The young poet rejected the rejection however, and went on to see his work published. His name was Robert Frost.*****


We can't give up. We must always try.



A gift from Kiya

"My Favorite NeighborOpen in new Window.
"Sharing Sunshine...It's What I Do!Open in new Window.
"Admirable WomenOpen in new Window.
"Whose Work Are You Stealing?Open in new Window.
"The Potter's Cup and SaucerOpen in new Window.







© Copyright 2024 Kenzie (UN: kenzie at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Kenzie has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/kenzie/day/2-14-2024