Back to Brevity

"If you would be pungent, be brief, for it is with words as with sunbeams–the more they are condensed, the deeper they burn." -Robert Southey

I think I have forgotten how to be brief. Which is a shame since it's the title of my blog. Some of you may have noticed that I changed the title from "Chronic Brevity: Living With Scleroderma" to just "Chronic Brevity." Why? Well unfortuantely because I live with more than just scleroderma, as you also may have noticed by now. But I didn't want to completely change the title and confuse people, so I just eliminated the sclero part. But as I stare at the title and review my most recent posts, I realize that I've actually been chronically long winded lately. The words just pour out of me and I feel like I have too much to say. It's a great feeling, no doubt, but it defies what this blog was originally about. 

Chronic Brevity was born from a Shakespeare quote "brevity is the soul of wit" and the play W;t, in which the main character is dying of cancer and all of her encounters with doctors and everyone are brief and she talks about how life is brief, and the best writing is brief etc. So...chronic brevity was born. It fed my need to share what I was feeling and put it down on "paper," it helped me feel like I was reaching out to others and helping them in some way, and it challenged me to say in as few words as possible what I needed to say. 

I want to return to that. I have spent a lot of time lately learning about the art of flash creative non-

fiction. It's a style of writing that requires you say what you need to say in 2000 words or less. I absolutely love this form since it allows me more freedom than poetry but doesn't ask that I create a whole narrative. I am drawn to this form of writing and I want to use my coming blog posts to experiment with it. I used to do this as a standard in the early years of this blog, but for better or worse, the harder the struggle has been, the lengthier the posts have become. 

It's time to be brief again. Do I have a lot to say? Yes. Am I inspired daily? Yes. But I can't let the words control me. I have to find a way to control the words. Say exactly what I need to say in the most concise way possible, like a doctor or a nurse, diagnose the problem and simply walk out of the room to let you process what you heard. Let it sink in, and then have you come back wanting more.

So, I start today with the topic of invisibility and the intangible.

*************

We often do not understand or believe in the things we cannot see, feel, or hear or experience with our other senses. Yet, it is often those things that affect us the most. We cannot really feel, or touch or even see a 6 week old fetus, but if we know we're pregnant we can feel the greatest joy of our lives. And if we lose that intangible child, we can feel the greatest loss of our lives as well. 

It is often the memory of someone we loved that hurts us more. Whether they left us willingly or whether they were taken from us by death. We can no longer see them or hear them or touch them or hold them, but their memory often haunts us and prevents us from moving forward. 

Many of us believe in God or a god or some being higher than ourselves. A thing, a power, a being we have never seen, or touched but maybe only felt in our hearts during some high or some low in our life. We have a blind faith because it helps propel us into new directions even when we really don't want to. Simply because we believe that if God or the universe has kept us alive this long, then clearly we still serve some purpose. 

The same can be said about invisible illness. Like a friend of mine from high school used to say about water molecules in the air: "you can't see them, but they're there!" My invisible illnesses have plagued every aspect of my life, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst. Even when I feel great, move freely and have days or weeks of little to no symptoms my illnesses linger and live inside of me. Affecting every decision, guiding my every move, and controlling for me whether it will be a good day or a bad one. 

My illnesses are not tangible. I cannot hold them in my arms, touch them with my hands, or see them wrecking havoc on my organs. They have names and they are alive inside me, but to everyone else it's like a child's imaginary friend that you think is cute but don't really understand. But that doesn't make them any less real. I may be on the way to remission, and I may be having better days now than I've had in 8 years, but that doesn't mean I'm "better." It doesn't mean I've "gotten over it." It doesn't mean that I've forgotten all I've been through and the person it's made me. You wouldn't ask a grieving widow to "just forget" about her dead husband, and you wouldn't ask your Christian friend when they're going to "get over" the whole Jesus thing. 

You may not be able to see my illness, my pain and my suffering, and these days I may not be able to physically feel its effects, but I still live with the looming threat that at any given moment my body could decide to flare up and shut down without warning. And it is that intangible, invisible understanding that encourages me to not take one single moment for granted, to spend time with the people that I love, to only do the things that bring me joy and to love as deeply and as fully  as my heart can take. So in the coming weeks and months as I take the time to reevaluate my priorties, my goals, my career choices, and who and what I spend my time on and with realize that it is often the things we can't see or touch that make us who we are and change us for the better.

(587 words)

Infused

“May your mind be infused with 'one' thought(concentration of mind)! May every action of yours be embellished by 'one' thought! May your resolution be 'one'. You, who are acting to the contrary, your disposition shall have opposite orientation.”- Athra Veda

I hope to keep it short today. I want to give you all on update on all health related things, so here goes.
I had both rounds of Rituxan infusions and everything went GREAT! I couldn't have asked for a better outcome. Although I still don't know if it's officially helped or started to reduce the kidney inflammation, I can say that I feel like a completely new person. I have had more energy in the last few weeks than I've had in years. The pains in my side from the lung inflmmatio (pleuritis) are minimal and only mostly at night or after a large meal, but still a lot LESS than what it has been. I don't really have any fatigue unless I over exhaust myself and my muscles and joints feel really strong. I'm also eating better/more and most nights I can sleep alright.

I'm still having some issues with my hands and fingers. The ulcers don't want to heal and my fingertips just feel really sensitive lately, even typing this hurts. I see my doc on Thursday of next week and will definitely ask him about it. But overall, as you can see I finally feel like I'm getting some much needed relief!

The Rituxan infusions were a piece of cake for me. I was able to bring books, my laptop, my phone, a few magazines and even a snack. The first infusion took about 4.5 hrs since they had to be sure I wasn't going to have an allergic reaction. And thankfully, I didn't. The worst part about it all was the fact that nurse couldn't find a vein so she had to stick me twice, this as you know, is not unusal for me. After about 10 minutes I actually just fell asleep, soundly! As you can see from the pic, those chairs are REALLY comfortable, so I just reclined back, wrapped myself in a blanket and took a two hour nap! I also think it was the Benadryl kicking in and the fact that I didn't sleep well the night before due to being anxious about it all. (They make you take Benadryl and a Tylenol before the procedure to reduce the risk of an allergic reaction and pain.) 

My mom and Lupe were there and kept me company. They had a TV in the room and one other patient. It was actually quite relaxing.

The second infusion was only 3hrs because they could give me the medicine more quickly since I responded so well the first time. This round went much the same. I took a bunch of stuff to do, and barely did any of it cause I fell asleep almost immediately. I did experience a few hot flashes after both treatments on the ride home but that was about as bad as it got.

For those of you that don't know, here is a little info on what Rituxan is: (I had some trouble getting insurance to approve it because it's not "FDA approved" for Lupus nephritis, but of course my amazing Rheumy worked his magic and made it happen- this requires a lot of paperwork on his part and a few phone calls on my end)

What is Rituxan? (www.drugs.com)

Rituxan (rituximab) is a cancer medication that interferes with the growth and spread of cancer cells in the body.

Rituxan is used to treat non-Hodgkin's lymphoma or chronic lymphocytic leukemia. It is also used in combination with another drug called methotrexate to treat symptoms of adult rheumatoid arthritis.

Rituxan is also used in combination with steroid medicines to treat certain rare disorders that cause inflammation of blood vessels and other tissues in the body.

Rituxan may also be used for purposes not listed in this medication guide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, as you can see, Lupus patients DO and CAN receive "chemotherapy." Everyone's eyes widen when I tell them this and they assume I'm going to lose all my hair and that I must be dying. Not. True. Rituxan along with many other drugs simply suppress the immune system, and since my immune system is attacking itself and over "excited" that's what I need to do and that's how these types of treatment help.

I am glad that it seems to be working and helping with my overall health. Next week I go in to see the doc, get labs drawn and find out what the blood work says. Hopefully it reflects how I feel! - All good in the hood! lol

I know that being in a good place emotionally and mentally helps with overall physical health, but I do feel like the reverse is also true. I feel better emotionally because I feel better physically. I don't think it's JUST the other way around as some would have you believe.

Regardless, although I am still leery that all of this energy and good health is only temporary, I will embrace it and enjoy it for as long as it chooses to last. Afterall, I've had some pretty shitty years and really deserve a break!

(Stay tuned for next week's post on Writing and Getting Wiser)

The Write to Heal

It is no secret that I recently had the most amazing weekend of my life alongside 5 other Afro-Latinas at a writer's retreat in Galveston. I have been living off the high from the weekend for days. If you follow me on FB or Twitter or read last week's blog, you know how energized and empowered that weekend made me feel. Never, and I mean never, have I felt so connected to a group of people I rarely knew. Never, and I mean never have I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. Never, and I mean never have I ever felt so understood. For the first time in 7 years, being sick wasn't what defined me. And that made it feel like I could finally breathe. 

It's one thing to try and build a community of support in the virtual world. And it's actually quite easy to do so. But to actually come together and share our experiences, our stories our deepest fears and desires, and our written work...nothing..nothing is more powerful than that.
I won't go into great detail about all that we did or said or shared. Some things are meant to be kept between sisters (yes, that's what they are to me now, sisters). But I will share a few things that I walked away with from that weekend...as well as a few pics of the best moments.

The Women

1. Hair. We all have issues with our hair. Whether we're Dominican, Cuban or Afro-Mejicana, our hair is something we all have to learn how to love if we are ever to be truly happy with ourselves. It can define us and destroy us if we let it. There is a love/hate relationship many of us have with our hair from the moment we are young girls until the day we die. I've known for years that I am not alone in this struggle (a struggle I have finally overcome since I really do LOVE my hair finally) but it's always nice to hear others empathize and relate to your plight.

2. Identity. All of us identify as Afro-Latina,
but we are all at different points in our journeys. Some have fully embraced their "African" roots, while others don't even have proof they are of African descent but something within tells them so. Some of us still feel more "Latina" than African (me), and have a hard time embracing and accepting our blackness (in the African-American sense of things) if only because we've been told all our lives one of two or both things 1)Blackness is wrong, evil, dirty or "other" 2) You are not "black enough".....as if I needed a card to prove it or something, because I "sound too white," have "good" hair, and speak Spanish...hazme el favor.

Cafe Bustelo in da HOUSE!

What I came to understand is that most, if not all Afro-Latinas are stuck in the beautiful but often isolating world of grey when it comes to identity. The light-skinned Latinos don't like to acknowledge us (especially in the media, but even in our own countries), and black folks in America are quick to say we don't understand their struggles. It's a tricky space to live in, and we often feel like we have to pick a side...but the strength with which some of these women claimed their identity left me feeling more empowered and willing to do so myself. I am who and what I say I am, and no one can say any different..and I don't have to prove it to anyone either.

The last and probably most profound piece of identity that I came to that weekend (Thanks to Icess), was the "where I'm from piece." Something that I've struggled with for decades. As a military brat I thought I could never answer that question simply. But I think I am one step closer to a true answer. Truth be told, I am from...the South. Yep. There, I said it. Most of my experiences in life have been with a southerner's point of view. All the states I've lived in have been southern states, and I've spent so much time in TX already, I may as well say I'm from here.

The Retreat House!

I came to the realization that I hesitated to admit to my southerness because of all that it implied. Slavery. Discrimination. Racism. Hate. Violence. Women as property. Not that those things don't exist in the north, but the south has such a dense and torrid history. I didn't want to carry the baggage of what it meant to"be from the south." Truth be told though, after some reflection and writing by the water on the last day at the retreat, I'm kind of proud to be from the south now. Yes, it has a turbulent history and it hasn't been kind to people like me, but Southern hospitality is a real thing and I have been shown so much love from so many people here in the south, that I can't simply ignore that.

I feel connected to the landscape, the architecture, the arts and culture, the food, the music (even the Rodeo) and the people. The south is home and I think I'm finally ok with that.

3. Anger. We are all angry. And that's ok. Though we resist and hate the stereotype of the "mad angry black woman" we understand and accept that our anger is justified and necessary. We have every right to be pissed. About A LOT. Low wages. Inequality- everywhere. The way were are treated like "exotic" objects to be conquered and sexualized. Street, work, and overall life harassment from people who feel entitled to us and our bodies. All of that and MORE. We are angry, and we are forced at times to carry that anger with grace and humility when all we really want to do in the words of Ntozake Shange "is scream, and holler, and break things and tell you all your truths to your face and [not] be sorry for none of it." But that isn't alwyas possible. So what do WE as Afro-Latina writers do instead, when we can't fully express our rage? We write. And that is how we learn to heal. We did a lot of healing that weekend.

4. Anxiety, Sadness, Fear. We are all vulnerable and feel just as deeply as anyone else. Just because we are angry doesn't mean we are not afraid. It doesn't mean we are not deeply sad or anxious. All of those emotions exist within us simultaneous and that alone is often maddening. We are afraid of how we will be treated and received by others. We are anxious about our next step in life because we don't know where our feet will land at times. We are saddened by the fact that so little has changed to improve the lives of our gente both in the US and in our countries of origin. We carry all of this in our hearts and on our backs and if someone were to ask us why, why do you carry all of this around? Like Anne Carson, I believe we would simply have to reply:

"Where would you want me to put it down?"

The Beach...

5. Peace & Joy. Even amidst all the chaos and noise in our lives we all were able to find a little peace and a little joy that weekend that I believe all of us have carried with us moving forward.

6. Family. We became a family that weekend. We ate together. Laughed together. Cried (well at least I did) together. Shared stories together. We even went shopping! It was easy to be around these women and we have continued our conversations and our community online. Some of us our poets and memoirists, while others are playwrights and fiction writers. The genres didn't matter, our love and passion for the writing is what brought us together and will keep us together.

We are looking forward to coming together again soon, and you can join us! Our lovely organizer Icess Fernandez has coordinated a Live Stream Reading of our latest work coming up November 18th, 7pmCST/8pmET. You have to register for the online event to get the link. You will hear written selections from all 6 ladies (including me) that attended the retreat. You don't want to miss this!

REGISTER HERE

Thicker Than Water

“You must remember, family is often born of blood, but it doesn't depend on blood. Nor is it exclusive of friendship. Family members can be your best friends, you know. And best friends, whether or not they are related to you, can be your family.”
― Trenton Lee Stewart, The Mysterious Benedict Society

My family (Lupe) and I celebrating my book award

There are many definitions in the world of what it means to be "family." In Latin, familia refers to the "servants of a household" or the "estate, property and members of a household, including relatives and servants." In English it has come to mean something slightly different: "the collective body of persons who form one household under one head..including parents, children and servants.."(Online Etymology Dictionary) And yet, even with the more modern day English definition we must ask ourselves what "household?" The physical space we dwell in? The emotional space we allow people to occupy? Or the community and societal spaces we spend our time in? 

How do we define family and are we allowed more than one?

I have been struggling a great deal with my notion and understanding of what it means to be a family over  the last several years. Mostly because my family circle has evolved. It has grown and shrunk at the same time. While I used to see my immediate family as my parents and siblings (5 of us in total), I now consider my immediate family to be my husband ( 2 of us and 2 dogs). Both my brother and my sister are now married and have kids so I have a larger extended family that consists of 3 nieces, 2 nephews, a brother in law and a sister in law. My cousins have also had children and our family blood lines keep growing. 

Having a family and being there for your family are values that were instilled in me at a very young age. 

Some of my immediate and extended family

Family is forever I was told.

Blood is thicker than water I was told.

You have to...because they're family.
And yet, over the last several years I have come to question these "familial obligations" because although they represent a core value of what it means to live and grow up Latina, I wonder if it's something we need to start reevaluating as a culture.

This past weekend, I spent an incredible three days writing, talking, laughing and even crying with 5 other Afro-Latina writers. (That will get its own blog post next week) While driving to Galveston, where our retreat house was located, me and two of the other writers had a conversation about Latin families and if it could be possible that one of the reasons we fail to progress as a people and a race is because of this antiquated notion of "familial obligations." It is often the case that many of those who feel obligated to help their blood related family members do so simply because it's family and not because those receiving the help actually deserve it. We, especially Latina women are often very self-sacrificing. We give and give and give and get nothing in return...especially from family. It drains us, but we keep giving. We insist that family is forever. And yet, our definition of family is limited to those who share our same blood. Why?

I can say, that this has frustrated me GREATLY over the last 8 years since I was diagnosed. Why? Because my blood family has often failed me when I have been at my lowest. Because my blood family has often failed me when I have been at my highest.

I am truly a giver. I give love, attention, money, joy and even praise to and about my family. I plan parties, send gifts, condolences, good energy, prayers, FB posts, Tweets, cards etc. for their highs and their lows. I have been giving for as long as I can remember. (Was I always the nicest sister or daughter, no..but I have learned from that and changed). Have I received as much in return? From my parents, YES. From others...not so much.

My Sclero Family

Am I asking to be showered with gifts and attention? No. But is it too much to ask for equal treatment and consideration? I don't think so. There are some blood family members for whom I don't give as much to anymore, because I'm tired. At the young age of 30? Yes. I'm tired of giving my time and attention and energy to those members who have not earned it, who have failed and disappointmted me time and time again. Who never bother to call when I'm laid up in a hospital bed to IVs and beeping machines. Who can't bother to text a note of congratulations when I win a book award or invite me to dinner when I'm in town but expect me to provide hotel service when they want to travel to Galveston and spend the weekend at the beach with their families (without inviting me of course). No. I am done with THOSE family members. If they want me in their lives and they want to be treated like family, they will have to start treating me like family first.

Family, to me is not about the blood that runs through your veins. Being sick and dealing with extreme highs and lows in my energy and in my mood has shown me that it is deeper than that. It is about being there for someone when they need it most, whether that's at a joyful moment or a painful one. Family is my mother-in-law who sponge bathed me only 2 months after marrying her son because I was hospitalized for 3 days and couldn't do it myself. Family is my best friend answering her phone at 3 am, telling me why I shouldn't take a bottle of pills. 

My poetry family

Family is showing up to the hospital EVERY SINGLE TIME I've been there over night (Marina) and brining me magazines, cupcakes, and a smile. Family is texting me once a week just to say hi. Family is remembering to celebrate my succeses as much as I celebrate yours and allowing me to cry when you don't know what to say. 

Family can be made in a day and broken with a few words. Family admits when they are wrong and work to make it better. Family takes but they also give. It is not a one way street.

I have come to understand that I have many families. My Scleroderma and Lupus families who understnad what it means to be chronically ill. My friends turned into sisters and brothers family- all those that have been with me for years through the good and the bad. My Houston poetry family that encourages me to keep writing and performing. And this past weekend, I made a new family with 5 new sisters.

Afro-Latina sisters walking fiercly!

My Afro-Latina writing family will be with me forever and I hope it keeps growing. I am connected to these women not by blood (though we all share our African roots), but by something greater. Something that will reverberate after our blood has dried up and our bones have wasted away. We are connected by a shared mission and a shared experience. Our stories brought us together and our stories will keep us alive long after we are gone. I feel closer to these women than I do to some of my cousins (not all of ya'll, relax..if you're reading this you're probably not one of those cousins lol). 

We are all educated, passionate women who empowered each other and didn't bring each other down. We are all at different points in our journies as women and as writers, but we used that to help each other grow. In a matter of 72 hrs I made lifelong friendships with some pretty amazing women that were hard to say goodbye to when I dropped them off at the airport. I cannot tell you the last time I was filled with such joy in my heart for people...for people I barely knew. (I'm usually not that upset when I say goodbye to "real family") These women transformed me and made me a better person. THAT'S what family does. They raise you up and make you want to be the best version of you.

My Afro-Latina Sisters

Family isn't supposed to make you bitter and sad. Family shouldn't emaciate your soul and your spirit. Might they disappoint you from time to time? Sure, we're all human and we all make mistakes. But will you forgive each other, learn from it and become stronger together, yes. That is what REAL family does. Family, the people that fill your emotional and mental household should nurture and encourage you in the best of times and in the worst of times.

My blood family and my family family will continue to grow and shrink with each year. Those who give and take as much as I give and take will be my familia. I get to choose who I call and consider my family. And only those people who have earned a place at the table will have a chance to sit and break bread with me.

And...The one who never fails me:

Mami and Me

Why I Try- An Open Letter to Colbie Caillat

This week singer and actress Selena Gomez spoke up and finally confirmed her Lupus diagnoses. And in an interview with Billboard Magazine she disclosed that her time away from the public eye and in a rehab center was not drug abuse or alcohol related (as rumors speculated), but because she had to undergo chemo. And, as one might expect...the response on social media was at times increasingly supportive and positive as well as hurtful, ignorant and just mean. But, what can you expect from internet trolls.

In the interview, Selena says:

“I was diagnosed with lupus, and I’ve been through chemotherapy. That’s what my break was really about. I could’ve had a stroke...I wanted so badly to say, ‘You guys have no idea. I’m in chemotherapy. You’re assholes...But I was angry I even felt the need to say that. It’s awful walking into a restaurant and having the whole room look at you, knowing what they’re saying. I locked myself away until I was confident and comfortable again.”

But WHY did she have to lock herself away? Why and how could people be so cruel and push/bully someone into hiding? Someone who was ill for that matter? What does that say about our society? Are we no longer compassionate and empathetic? Do we no longer seek to understand before we judge? Why must we judge at all? If she were battling cancer would she have felt more comfortable sharing her struggles WHILE they were happening and not after the fact? Why does it feel like some diseases matter more than others? And why can't suffering be just as empowering as health and happiness?

All these questions and more have been running through my mind the last week. Especially after (my mistake) I started reading the comments under her interview. (Sigh)

She went into hiding and concealed what she was going through because of the hellish tabloid rumors and speculations. And when she finally comes out and claims her power, she still must suffer public criticism and reproach.

Selena Gomez photographed in Beverly Hills on
Aug. 31, 2015. Zoey Grossman

You see, the Billboard interview also consisted of a photo shoot and cover spread. In it, Selena..as
most pop stars are in these things...is mostly half nude and very sexualized. But..in my opinion she looks amazing and you can see her strength and beauty in her eyes. And if showing her body and owning it makes her feel empowered, then rock on girl!

The internet trolls were having none of it. Comments from the interview and photo shoot ranged from:

"You're so strong. I heart you Selena!"

To....

"Who cares?!"

To....

"Oh, so taking off your clothes is what makes you feel comfortable and confident? You're a slut."

If Selena finally feels empowered enough to just "take it all off" and show her strength and beauty through her sexiness why the hell not? (Hell, I've wanted to do a bordeaux photo shoot for months now, I just can't afford it!)

Does society over sexulaize women, yes. I am not debating that. Could she still show confidence and courage with her clothes on, definitely. But she has a right to claim her power back any way SHE wants (as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else of course). And you know, it's not like she's being groped by some man, she's not grinding on a chair, she is taking control of HER body and telling HER story the way she wants it told. She is being courageous despite the fat shaming and bullying. She no longer cares what the critics have to say and she's basically telling them "You think I'm fat and on drugs...F You...here's a hot and sexy photo shoot..this is me, this is who I am and I'm proud of how far I've come. I applaud you Selena.

For my sanity however, I stopped reading through the comments. But it really got me thinking about so many things. For example, why is it wrong to put on a sexy outfit as a woman and feel good in it? Why do some people see make-up as oppressive and like we're trying to hide our flaws? What if I just feel pretty with some mascara and lipstick on?

Why is it so wrong, Ms. Caillat to TRY? I completely get the message of your song. I know (and it saddens me to my deepest core) that so many women suffer with self esteem issues. They spend their whole lives never truly loving themselves, their bodies, their flaws and imperfections. I know millions of women spend hours trying to fix themselves just to please others and are never happy in their own skin. I find your song inspirational. It makes me teary-eyed every time I hear it. I think you send an important message to women all over the world. I applaud you for producing a song that inspires confidence and self-love.

But, as someone who struggles to "get up, get up, get up, get up" out of bed every day...why is it so wrong for me to TRY? To try and look better than the disease that's ravaging my insides? To try and curl my hair just right so that I feel like I accomplished something for the day? To try and throw on some lipstick and mascara because it adds a little color to my life and that makes me smile? Why is it so wrong to TRY?

I know, that I am one of the lucky ones. Not just in regard to how gentle these diseases have been on me (yes I mean that, I've seen the real havoc these illnesses can wreck on people's lives so I consider myself lucky) but because I have never really had self esteem issues. My parents refused to let me enter beauty pageants as a kid even though I begged them. They rarely called me beautiful and I was bullied as a pre-teen because I had really hairy legs and wasn't allowed to shave until I turned 15 ( I broke that rule and shaved at 13 because I liked wearing skirts and hated the taunts and teases I got everyday in the locker room and on the school bus) And yet, the bullying didn't crush me. It didn't rock my core. But, I realize now, that that was probably because I found my confidence in other places. I was always applauded and recognized for my intelligence, public speaking abilities and acting talent. I knew and still believe that I would get farther in life with my brains than with any outward beauty.

Being good at things I loved allowed me to never really worry about the size of my breasts or the occasional muffin top. I've always been extra confident (probably to a fault or close to conceitedness) because my self-worth and strength have never come from my physical appearance. Have I felt self-conscious at times and maybe "not beautiful enough?" OF COURSE! Any time I'm in a room full of skinny white women and I'm the only Latino/Black woman in the room, for example. But the feeling passes as soon as I start a conversation with one of them, because I know that I am intelligent enough to hold my own. I know that I have skills and talents some of these women can only dream of. I also know that we, as women, can only grow stronger if we pull each other up rather than drag each other down. I choose to see the good and the beauty in all women rather than judging them and being envious of what they may have that I don't.

And I know, Ms. Caillat that that is part of the message of your song. "Do you like you?" And for me, the answer is HELL YES. I believe that this girl.....

 Is just as beautiful and inspiring as this one...

So, to your point...why TRY? Because I spend an inexhaustible amount of time in yoga pants at doctor's offices feeling broken and a little blush brings life back into my placid and peaked cheeks. Why TRY? Because the cute clothes and outfits I spend hours trying to pick out help me forget about the bruises and skin spots I used to try and cover up. Why TRY? Not because I want to please anyone else, but because it makes ME happy. Why TRY? Because I spent years early on in this disease feeling sorry for myself, fatigued and too drained to do anything more than brush my teeth and keep the crust out of my eyes. Because I'm tired of looking as bad as I feel. Because there will come a time when my hands don't work and my lungs give out, and at the end of the day, I am still a 30 year old woman who wants to remember "the best years of her life" as a time where I didn't HAVE to TRY, but I DID because I still COULD.