I noticed the tremor first. It began as a minor annoyance, though in time became uncontrollable. Followed shortly by the stiffness and pain, resulting in a slowed, deliberate gait. By the end of that first summer, I was unable to walk unassisted.

The diagnosis? An aggressive, atypical Parkinson’s that was slowly gnawing away at what’s left of my autonomic nervous system function. The doctors were at a loss for treatment. “Learn to be comfortable,” I remember her saying.

Initially, I personalized the pain – feeling it was targeting all that was good within me. My life, my mobility, my joy. All of my thoughts were past or present – either comparing to that which once was or fearing what my future might hold.

It’s sharpness kept me tethered. I was angry, upset – fearful beyond words. I struggled trying to maintain an open heart within a stream of consciousness intent on isolation.

Worse yet, I felt targeted. I’d identified with my ‘stronger’ self – a proud southern woman who most certainly didn’t need help. It wasn’t until I began to write, that I was able to see things another way.

I wasn’t weak – I was evolving. And, with each new post, I discovered resilience, optimism, compassion.

You see, what I had presumed to be targeting was actually enhancing. It was breaking me wide open, so that I might finally learn to grow.

My friends, we become so much better when we allow the delicate nature of our soul. To be vulnerable is to find our humanity.

And that, my loves, is our greatest privelege.

A little something to consider..

Namaste ❣️