Your Life Must Be a Living Hell {It's about to get real post}

I don't often do this. I would rather you see the inspirational side of things or look at my pretty pictures but today I have been doing a lot of thinking and I want to give anyone who wants to read this the great, the truely ugly, and the really bad.  

This posts title came from a friend of mine. Yes, I promise you these words were said from someone who cared and I truely believe meant well. (When in doubt ignorance and a deep belief in best intentions will get you through most friendships, parenting, and marriage problems.) She and I lived in affluent Silicon Valley, we were mothers, wives, and we were "killing it" in the businesses we had started. I use "killing it" because it in effect it is so very true. She and I were working 60-80 hours a week building the things we loved. The thing was I was sick and it was getting worse. I couldn't keep hiding it. 

It, is a genetic mutation. Seriously cool XMan stuff except my super human power is the ability to throw my bones in all sorts of weird places. No calling down storms or reading minds (shhhh don't tell my kids) for me. So limping became cane, cane became sticks, and sticks became wheelchair. My clients were amazing and stuck with me even though I had to change most of my business, until I couldn't. Yes, killing it caught up to me. There are only so many inspirational mind over matter moments you get until your body says ever so gently "Honey, that was nice and all but it's time to stop." You get a few of these gentle warnings until suddenly there are paramedics and/or lovely hospital stays and surgery. 

Flash forward to closing down my beloved photography studio in Menlo Park and unexpectedly retiring at the grand old age of 38. Killing it. My friend is a brilliant hairdresser. I swear you will never find a better one. She had not seen me in a long time and in I limped with my lovely cane. Same age, same aspirations, and she thought same expectations and suddenly for me the game had changed. I gently told her about the condition I had. She nodded and looked sadder and sadder. I explained no cure and no real treatments and that I had to close my business. That is when she said those infamous words "Your life must be a living hell."

I bristled a bit. It might be true but it was my hell and I was damned sure going to be the person filmed in soft lights and slow motion with the rising piano music. I was going to be inspirational. I think I was the most upset because she unintentionally called me out. She didn't see that I was going to make the most of every moment (seriously can you hear the piano?). She saw what could happen to anyone. Unexpected illness, accident, family issue and suddenly all the work you have done building your business, or in perfect Silicon Valley speak, your brand, could mean nothing.

I'm a bit maudlin today. I will probably need surgery and to be VERY honest that scares me. Today living hell is accurate. I have three massive dislocations and two baby subluxations. I am facing Friday with dread (Cheetoh elect). I am sad but not down. That is not due to extreme bravery or my inspirational nature. It is due to my daughter reading in the next room, my pug snoring hilariously by my side, my overgrown Shepard puppy believing he is part owl, giraffe, and Farrah Fawcett all at once, my son finishing his finals and becoming an amazing man, and speaking of those, my husband who didn't bat an eyelash when I asked him to take tomorrow off to take me to the CT scan, parents who decided 18 was not a cut off point, seriously I am lucky. I also think there must be gracious and gorgeous moments even in genetic hell. 

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