Reconnect

Sometimes, my husband and I talk, and we realize that lupus was stealing from us for a long time.

A really long time.

An unacceptably long time.

Because my joints didn’t ache, we didn’t do the bloodwork to look for lupus. The APS antibodies were SCREAMING in blood test results, but lupus was dismissed because I was asymptomatic. Let’s focus on the loud problem, the squeaky wheel, the obvious issues. Ignore the sleeper agent. She’ll only come alive when there’s TRAUMA. And when is that going to ever pop up, right?

Except for the exhaustion.

Except for the heat intolerance.

Except for the stress migraines.

Except for the brain fog.

No, I didn’t have a rash across my face, and my joints didn’t scream when I moved, but lupus was there, slowly sucking away my zest for life, and I just called it “motherhood.”

“I have a little boy. It’s normal to be tired, right?”

And my doctors and I would laugh because, golly, so many of us have been there, right? Nothing odd here.

But now, with my metal heart valve ticking away and my lupus in remission, I have life again. I’m dreaming again. I’m trying to draw again. I’m scribbling. I dance in the kitchen while I listen to obnoxious music and embarrass my child. I sing again. Heavens to Betsy, I’m even thinking about being social again.

Wouldn’t that just be killer?

I’m diving into my nerdy interests again, maybe too ardently, and finding new ones. I feel sixteen again, minus the acne and boy-panic. I want to talk about the new animes I’ve uncovered and the books I’m reading and buy stupid nerdy tee shirts. I want to discuss character development and plot points and worldbuilding. I want to write fantasy again. I want to enjoy something because I have fun with it and not just because I’m turning out a project.

But we are adults. And adults have bills. Adults have to think about retirement. So I send out application after application and try to make connections.

Until that happens, let’s lean into creativity and enjoy it.

Even if it never makes a penny.