I am a widow since 2013 and live by myself in a small apartment. I use a wheelchair to get around, but I wouldn't consider myself disabled. I'm 11 years away from having bladder cancer resulting in a urostomy and I'm doing well. This cancer was a result of having radiation in 1995 because of uterine cancer. So have faith in yourself, a cancer diagnosis is not a death sentence. My first try at blogging was an attempt to help other people with my condition. I am a mother of three married children, and a grandmother to eight gorgeous kids, featuring them often here, and a great grandmother to two as of today, 6/7/25! I enjoy exploring my feelings and like to try the challenges. I like humor, music, movies, games, and some sports. I absolutely appreciate your reading and commenting on my blog. I am happy to read all of your blogs and learn more about you. Please comment however you like, ask whatever, and I'll answer honestly. Thanks for reading! Cheryl
February’s poetry challenge is all about synonyms. Let’s make poems using words representing the famous “frozen water” in Minneapolis without using the word for immigration enforcement. 60 words or fewer. Funny or serious. Rhyming or free verse. G-rated. Due Sunday 8 Feburary at noon. (en español más adelante)
He started early, as it was her birthday. The specialty coffee was first across her lips, after his morning kiss. The roses were her favorites and pink satin hearts were included in the bouquet. These gifts would insure that his love would wake and remind her of his lasting affection.
By Amanda, walkamyelinmyshoes on February 10, 2026
‘I’ll never be the same again.’ I said those six words three weeks after my MS diagnosis, not knowing I was building a prison.
The moment I first said those words, I was trying to feel excited about all the growth in my garden. Instead, I was terrified and overwhelmed with all the work that growth was making for me.
My body felt like I’d been squeezed through a pasta maker and dragged behind a pickup. I couldn’t find the energetic, motivated person I’d always thought myself to be. (I’d actually always struggled with fatigue but I had a close personal relationship with Denial.)
I repeated variations of that sentence daily for 3 years, swirling in the fog of confusion and grief a life-changing diagnosis brings.
Saying ‘I have MS’ is just a fact. But it’s the way I said it, with defeat, with finality, like it was my entire identity. That’s what kept me stuck. There’s a difference between ‘I have MS’ and ‘I AM sick.’
Your brain builds neural pathways like garden paths. The thoughts you repeat are the ones you “walk” most often. Over time, those paths become smooth and automatic. For better or for worse.
Because your brain’s job is to keep you safe, it takes your repeated thoughts as truth, so whatever you tell it often enough, it starts to believe and look for proof.
When you start choosing new, healing thoughts, you’re simply walking a new path. With practice, your brain learns to follow it naturally.
One morning I woke up thinking ‘I don’t think I can get out of bed today.’ So I didn’t. I spent 14 hours scrolling my iPad, feeling like a burden, spiraling into anxiety about the future. The next morning, before my brain could start its doom loop, I thought ‘What’s one small thing I can do?’ I watered the plants. That was it. But I wasn’t in bed all day.
When I worried that people thought I was faking because I could walk, or that I wasn’t ‘sick enough’ to be on disability, the vertigo would kick in and my ears would ring. Not exactly at that moment, it took some reflection to realize the connection, but the symptoms weren’t just random examples of my body betraying me. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy in action.
Staring at my garden one day, trying to squash the overwhelm at the weeding and pruning calling to me through the fatigue, I watched the hummingbirds flit from one buddleia to another. I envied their boundless energy and wished I could breathe it in.
Then I wondered what it would be like to be an animal and not have the overthinking, negative-biased human brain. That flipped the switch, and I thought, “What if I shift my perspective?”
Adjusting the lens of how I looked at things, from “I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired” to “What can I do to help myself heal?” was the game-changing move that stopped the carousel of terror and started a true healing path.
These days, when I catch myself thinking ‘I’ll never…’, I pause. Sometimes I can shift it immediately: ‘Not never. Just not today.’ Sometimes I can’t, and that’s okay too.
That garden I was standing in when I first said those six words? I learned to tend it in a different way. Some days with energy, some days from a chair, sometimes just watching the hummingbirds from the window. But I was no longer terrified of the growth, because I was part of it.
The prison was never MS. It was the story I told myself about MS. And I’m the one who holds the key.
What six words have you been saying to yourself? Write them down. Just notice them. That’s where the door starts to open.
Amanda
*Had to copy and paste because the REBLOG button didn’t work for me. But I had to share this inspirational post! Thank you Amanda!
Joe ripped the books and old magazines off the shelves, searching as quickly as he could. It had to be here somewhere he thought…and then the shoddy box in the corner started to shake. The goddang box was shaking! Joe was shocked, but his fervor for the recipe overshadowed that feeling and desperation set in again. The family recipe was thought to have been lost years ago, but Joe knew better. His grandma on her deathbed told him so as she slipped away from this plane. Joe approached the box and at his touch, it stopped moving. He pried the cardboard flaps up slowly, hesitating to see the inside and thinking something may jump out at him – a rat perhaps? He shuddered at the thought but continued to unfold the pieces of dusty paper. Then as if by, who am I kidding, it WAS magic, the recipe was right there in that box, with nothing else. Joe was shaking at this point, and his hand reached down by its own free will, into the box and grabbed the paper. It was the recipe his grandma told him about. He took it up to his chest and finally let out a breath. With this recipe he would be a success. His entire life counted on this one recipe, he just felt it in his bones. Now, he thought, if I could only find these ingredients…
The relaxing, calm music was always there to remind Sara of her good friends who surrounded her in times of need. They had all belonged to the same choir, and the simple weekly meet turned into a peaceful time for each. Thankful for their personal touch, Sara was thinking how grateful she was for people who cared.
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