(without going insane!)
The one thing in my life, which has always been constant, is dance. I've spoken on here before about my love of dance, how with each new goal achieved I was clawing back my pride in myself and my body. The question I'm asked all the time, by my family, friends, coworkers and other dancers is why, with my health the way it is, do I keep dancing?
With gyms closed and most medical professionals conducting appointments via telehealth, it's more important than ever to do our home exercises to stay as strong and healthy as possible, and maintain the progress we've gained from our physical therapy sessions.
I'm so excited to finally be able to share something I've always been wanting to do - the launch of Chronically Clumsy merch.
Personal accountability, and the pathology behind why CI contributors post what they do, is a topic that is either delicately skirted around, or quickly devolves into an emotionally-charged flurry of comments in someone else's post.
Surviving summer is always tough. There's the heat, the humidity, and most of all, the expectation that you spend all of your time outside pretending that you actually enjoy it. Add chronic illness into the mix, and it's tempting to find a commercial walk-in freezer and never leave it. These are my favourite products which have helped me this summer.
CHECK OUT MY ARTICLE "I DON'T KNOW" IN DISABLED HONI Honi Soit is the weekly student newspaper of the University of Sydney, Australia. This article was part of Disabled Honi, the first issue autonomously edited by the Disabilities Collective.
I've been absent for a while. Honestly, this is the first time I've even been able to go near my keyboard and to attempt to write. It hurts, but in a good way. It aches the way that muscles do after physical therapy. There's that sharp pang followed by a sigh of relief after relocating a joint.
Thank you. I am so incredibly grateful for not only the high quality care I've received during my time here, but also for the little things you do, the things that make me feel like a person, not just a patient.
My life will forever be changed by Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and its sister diseases. I will never be able to go back to life the way it was a year ago, and I had to mourn that life. I had to face the reality that I may never dance again, that I would have to put work on hold, and defer my university studies. I had to confront my fears that maybe this was psychosomatic, that I really just had Munchausen's and was somehow making myself sick on purpose. But I had to stop grieving, because I needed to fight for just a little longer.