A blog post, video, or photo never tells the whole story. It reveals a moment in time a person wanted to share. You can share bits and pieces of yourself for many reasons, but I share to remember the good and bad I have learned. After five years, it is time to document the beginning. The real beginning.
My son @Ecoinstant pushed me hard to join and start blogging on the blockchain when I never had written or expressed a desire to do either. He was worried about me. Worried enough that he kept pecking away at me to blog and finding ways and places for me to start writing down something, anything.
He saw his Mother deteriorating faster and faster, which worried him. The person he counted on to help him couldn't help anymore. The person that knew where everything was in the house could not find anything when he asked. He saw her wilting before his eyes. My son's hands were tied because he lived in a different country. He was now tied to a country that held the women he loved and married.
You see, I was lost. The person I had been gathered people together, had parties, went places, cleaned the house from top to bottom in one day, and worked hard at full-time and part-time jobs (s). In a short time, I went from being myself to someone that could barely remember what day it was. My life was stolen from me, and no one could tell me why or how to fix it.
My Aunt Jane and Me
I spent five years being told by everyone and anyone around me that I wasn't in pain. That I was faking it. That no one could be as sick as I was. I was told to put some makeup on and get over it.
I was told to go on a diet, and I would feel better. I was told it was all in my head. I was told all this by family members and my closest friends. I became withdrawn and depressed as I lost everything that had made up my life.
I went from a person that would read six to seven books a week to not being able to read and remember what I read by the time I worked my way down to the bottom of a page. I had been a person that sat outside for hours knitting while listening to audiobooks.
To become a person unable to knit anymore because I could not comprehend the patterns I wanted to make. I had stopped making plans because ninety percent of the time, I was in too much pain or too foggy in my head to leave the house.
My life, which had always been full of people and laughter, became isolating.
It was during that time I found gaming on the internet. I taught myself how to play RPG games. I found design games and built beautiful worlds. I could do all this at my own pace and not let anyone down if I was slow. People didn't realize how long it took me to get anything done. They just saw the end product but not the hours and days I took to accomplish what I had.
Five years after I became ill, a Doctor finally informed me I had Fibromyalgia. He said there was medicine I could take, and it would help me get my life back. I trusted him. I should not have. I spent Hell on Earth for a year trying all of the Fibromyalgia medications. None worked for me.
The medications gave me panic attacks so bad that some days I would get so scared I had to call my Husband. I would tell him I needed him to talk. I needed an anchor to this world. He never understood what I was going through. I never went back to that Doctor again.
During the year, I was on all those different medications. One of the side effects was being seasick when trying to play my favorite games. Because I could not play anymore, I lost the many friends I had made along the way. Once again, I was alone.
I became even more depressed. A depression so deep it was scary. I was smart enough to reach out at that time and get help.
I needed to find a game I could play alone that would make me think. I tried playing Hearthstone once again. In many ways, Hearthstone kept me sane. Yet it wasn't enough. I was alone all day and most of the night. I had very little interaction with people. While I like to be alone, too much of anything is not healthy for a person.
With baggage on my back, I signed up to the blockchain with no hope that anyone would care I was there. I had never written anything. I can not spell. I can not type well. My first post took me hours and hours to write. Back then, there wasn't a group looking to welcome new people. I was lucky; my son had already been on the blockchain for a while and knew a few people.
I made my #introducemyself post, and my son's friends came to say hello. It was sweet, but I knew then his people were not mine. I am not a homesteader or even a gardener. I had promised I would give it a go for a month.
My saving grace was @mariannewest and her brand new #freewrite post she started. If not for her and the Freewriters, I would never have made it here for five years. Those five-minute freewrites took me up to five hours to go back and fix and make them readable. I did them because I could use my imagination, and they made me feel free for the first time in a very long time.
In the end, Hive saved my life. It gave me a life very different from what I was used to. But a life where I was excepted for just who I am. The twenty hours a day trying to learn to write, format, read and reply to other people's posts has been life-giving.
I am forever grateful to my son for noticing and caring enough to push me screaming to this blockchain.
I hope the next five years will be just as magical.
Help someone smile today. It can not hurt you.
Snook
All photos are mine unless otherwise stated.
