Monday, October 10, 2011

My Secret Garden

Chronicles of the ups and downs and sideways progress of a female living with Fibromyalgia. That is what I promise you in the title block below the name of this blog. And for whatever reason I remembered something I had not thought about in many years as I was looking at, and pondering it, just now. My teenage years were spent in a very pleasant and tree lined suburban community master planned with distinguished schools and Southern California sunshine. My pops took me on a trip up the gasp-worthy coastline of my long native state when I graduated from high school. The Pacific Ocean, the song of my heart, was the soundtrack for this journey. 

We were off to go look at colleges and of course eventually found ourselves in San Francisco, in a neighborhood I now recognize with ease but was a mystery to then 18 year-old me. We were walking up and down the compacted streets complete with a misty rain and the loud cacophony of an urban grind. Garbage trucks, buses, pedestrians, delivery trucks and a tiny little lane in the middle for both directions of traffic to travel so of course lots of honking horns and yelling too. Eventually we found ourselves in a fabulous breakfast joint cozy with regulars and packed with tourists. My father met up with his boyhood friend that lived in the city and he took us to an amazing place. Between the innocuous storefronts and short driveways posted with giant signs warning of the consequences if you were stupid or brave enough to park there, we ducked down a dingy little ally. 

It opened up to the most beautiful cultivated wild garden I had ever seen in my life. The stuff The Secret Garden or Alice In Wonderland is made of. Enchanting and captivating, you were invited to stay as long as you liked and mossy benches parted the plumage, the light drizzle only adding to the ambiance. There was hardly anybody there because this entire Eden was hidden in the most peculiar place right in front of one's face, if they only knew where to look. Reflecting back on this experience as an adult I smile at the parody, for that blooming sanctuary hidden down an unassuming alley is pretty much my life. I am a dirty dingy crowded street full of mayhem with pockets of beauty flowing from the oddest places and in the most peculiar directions. I never promised this was going to be neat, pretty, polished or perfect and it hasn't been, it isn't. But as I chronicled my personal journey with Fibromyalgia for all the world to see I can't help but feel I have indeed given you what I promised. Plenty of ups and downs and sideways progress to laugh at, cry with, get pissed off at me or with me or just feel a bit more understood along the grueling road that is that thing called life with Fibro. I am amazed so many have taken this journey with me and for that I thank you, and I hope my writing has helped you or someone you love in some positive way.

Thanks for joining,

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