The CT Scan

 So about six weeks ago I noticed a sizeable lump in the right side of my neck. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't itch, it's not tender. It's just big, solid, and SHOULD NOT BE THERE!!

Alright, secret's out. I am a HUGE Dr. Pimple Popper fan- Dr. Sandra Lee, board certified dermatologist and BADASS. If you're not familiar, Dr. Lee first gained fame on her YouTube channel, with videos of her removing lipomas and cysts and extracting blackheads, milia, and pore of winers. It might sound kind of strange and gross... and it is! But she got a following fast, and subsequently got her own show on TLC. 

So! When I first noticed my big bump on my neck, I kind of downplayed it. I mean, I've been a Dr. Pimple Popper for long enough, I know my shit! So, being the obvious expert I am: "Eh, it's just some sort of epidermoid cyst or perhaps a lipoma. Nothing to worry about."

But I couldn't stop thinking about it. So one night while sitting on my couch watching TV with my dad, I brought it up. I pulled the blue and green snarls of hair off to the left side and exposed my neck to him. His reaction wasn't encouraging. I was several feet away but he could see the knot sticking out. 

"I have a meeting with Dr. Bayliss in December," I said. "I'll make sure and show it to him."

"Hon," my dad said seriously, "You need to get that looked at soon."

So about a week later, I found myself in the La Familia waiting room, nervously chipping at my fingernails. I gotta hand it to La Familia-- the SECOND I walked in the door they plied me with offers of ALL KINDS of shots and vaccinations and boosters. I politely declined each time. 

I will come out and tell you all: I have a condition called Autoimmune Hemolytic Anemia. Basically it means my blood is ALL KINDS of messed up. I won't get into the details because it's insanely complicated but suffice it to say, because of this condition, last time I got a flu shot, I almost died. Literally. My blood clotted and I had to be flown in a helicopter down to Santa Fe. So! I CANNOT take flu shots or the COVID vaccine because there's a HUGE risk of very serious complications.

Last time I saw my hematologist, I asked him if I could get the COVID vaccine. He set down the clipboard he was holding and placed his pen on top of it. He looked at me seriously. He said, "Out of one million people, I'd say there are probably two who SHOULDN'T get the vaccine. You are one of the two."

So, in my controversial opinion, I think the COVID shots are GOOD!! I think they are a very good idea! I just, for health reasons, can't partake. I WOULD IF I COULD!!

But I digress. 

They know me at La Familia. They got me back fairly quickly, and first my doc and I discussed my lab work that he had ordered. I am physically healthy as a horse! Except for the neck lump. But we agreed I am mentally in a very good place right now. FINALLY found a good combo of meds that seem to be working. 

Regarding the lump, however, didn't go as smoothly. He gently probed the bump with his fingers, checking the firmness and motility. He looked deep down into my throat to see if anything looked suspicious, but it seemed normal. So I was ready for him to say, "Yup, looks like a little lipoma." 

What he said, instead, was, "I don't know what this is. I'm scheduling you for an ultrasound. Then I'll probably send you to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist. We'll see."

I would THINK if you're reading this, you know me at least a LITTLE. Enough to know I am a ridiculous worrier. So for the days leading up the the ultrasound, I was nervous. I mean, I've had them before... maybe that was part of the problem. When I was in the hospital with my pulmonary emboli and DVT, they did a full ultrasound of my leg and found what the little tech dude said was, "The biggest clot he'd ever seen."

But this time was much different. The ultrasound tech was incredibly kind and explained what was going on and angled the screen so I could watch. 

She "hmm'd" a few times. "I see three separate masses, with crud in them," she told me. It wasn't a sad tone, just kind of puzzled.

But I hopped out of there, SO GLAD to be done with it.

I was sitting on my couch later that night when I got a phone call from my doctor. "I don't like what we saw on the ultrasound," he told me. "We need a CT scan."

After we hung up, I cried a little. This whole time, I had kept dancing around that word: cancer. I don't know why, but having to have this CT scan just made everything scarier.

Thanks to Thanksgiving, I had to wait about a week for my CT appointment. Which gave me time to worry. However, I saw THIS on Facebook. It's my new mantra. 

After some thought, I realized it's not so much the CT scan I was so worried about... it was the results. 

But I had bigger problems ahead.

These are my ears. 

You see all that metal? It ALL had to come out!! It took me literally twenty minutes. For the last obstinate one I ALMOST went and got my dad's needle nose pliers!

This morning went smoothly... I had to fast for four hours before the scan because of the contrast dye they use. I was promptly greeted at the check-in desk, signed a couple things, and sat down in the 6-foot distance-obliging chairs. I tapped my toes. I knew it was basically a fancy XRay but hell, it's ME! Through a tall window came a beam of morning sunlight that warmed my hands. 

A young woman came out of the door labeled "LAB". 

"Sarah?" She smiled at me. 

"That would be me," I said, smiling back. She ushered me through the heavy door and we walked side-by-side down a wide hallway. 

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "I'm supposed to ask your last name, just in case..."

"There are a lot of us Sarahs," I agreed somberly, nodding. She laughed and we took a left. There was a door labeled, wait for it, "CT SCAN."

We entered, and I took it all in. Everything was white and sterile and impressive. A few different women were milling about, some pushing buttons on a gargantuan piece of equipment shaped like a powdered donut on its side.

"My name's Amy," the woman told me. "And this--" she indicated a young woman with cool hair-- " is Brianna. Now. Couple questions! Are you allergic to the contrast dye we use?"

"Not that I know of..." 

"Are you allergic to any medications?"

"Codeine and Abilify," I answered. Doctors and nurses always get confused when I say the latter. But it's true! I was on Abilify for months and was sicker than a dog.

"Allergic to any foods?"

"Carrots," I said before I caught myself. I shouldn't joke! "No, no, no, nothing!"

"So what are ya in here for?" she asked kindly. I did my thing: hair over the left shoulder, baring my lump. Her brow furrowed as she probed it with her fingertips, then put some sort of medical sticker on top of it.

"So are you an easy stick? Or a hard stick?" Amy asked. I've been having blood draws regularly for over half my life so I knew exactly what she meant. 

"Very, very hard," I responded. "Julian (my favorite blood taker) always has to go in my hand. But I have good news!"

Both women looked up at me, puzzled and curious.

"I'm not afraid of needles AT ALL! Poke all you want!"

"Well, aren't you accommodating?" laughed Brianna. 

"Alright," said Amy, "Let me have your glasses and keys and phone, and I'll have you lie down."

I was surprised and very pleased I didn't have to change into hospital-wear. I thought the underwire in my bra might cause problems but turns out it was JUST the neck area they were doing,  no lower.

So I lied down on the donut bed with my arms out to the sides, like Jesus on the cross. Amy was negotiating veins in my left elbow and Brianna was gently pushing into my right hand veins. They had nurse-hands, if that makes any sense. Warm and clean and a little bit callused. Calming. 

After a minute of this, I said, to myself more than anyone, "Wow, this is like being pampered!" The ladies laughed. 

"Okay," said Brianna. "The dye might make you feel a little weird! Some people get hot and flushed, some say it feels like they peed their pants, some people get nauseated. All normal."

I'll puke for sure, I thought to myself. 

"I see you got a lot of ink there," said Brianna. "Love it! I want more, but they're so expensive!"

"Oh, I know," I said, my voice echoing around the donut. "It's my favorite hobby, and the most expensive." They chuckled.

"Alright, you all ready? We're gonna start now." Suddenly the bed I was lying on got sucked up into the donut vortex. The inside of the donut was plastic and metal and a disembodied voice kept giving me instructions that I kept messing up:

Please, hold your breath.

I sucked in a big lungful.

You may breath normally.

I kept holding it in case he told me to hold it again. 

Please, hold your breath.

I exhaled forcefully. 

But suddenly! The bed started backing up. 

"All done!" Amy said cheerfully. 

I sat up, feeling a little dizzy. "Wow," I muttered. "Don't know why I was so worried." 

"You handled it like a pro!" said Brianna. "Here, babe, I'll walk you out."

As we navigated the hallways she asked, "Were you born here? Have you always lived here?"

"Indeed," I said. "Born and raised. They DO call it the Land of Entrapment."

And then we were in the lobby and I was free!

The most painful part was the $350 copay.

The other day on Facebook I posted a truthful albeit whiny rant that people should only have to go through  certain amount of sickness, illness and injury- when they get to that quota, they should get to live the rest of their lives in healthy peace!

I was just feeling sorry for myself... I know lots of people have it WAY worse than I do.

It's just... asthma, allergies, depression, schizoaffective disorder, OCD, blood problems, and now a lump in my neck??? Jeez.

But I'm sorry to be dramatic. I have no IDEA what is in my neck. It's probably a nothing. These bodies... tricky business!

But like I said earlier, everything ELSE is great! Good combo of meds right now, hell, even my cholesterol is perfect. And when I got my teeth cleaned, I was praised!

This is my favorite time of year and I'm working on writing, and its just...

good.

Thanks, guys

Sarah

Mental Health Struggles- Fighting Myself

 If you're reading this, you probably already know that I am mentally ill. Schizoaffective Disorder and OCD. But if you're reading this and you don't know, click here to read about it.

A quick summary would be, I've been hallucinating for just about as long as I remember. Delusions raged and the hallucinations became real for a long time. Slight mania wove itself through these years, before sinking, deep deep deep into suicidal depression. On April 20th, 2004, I took a kitchen knife and tried to kill myself. 

And that started the meds. Meds to bring me up, bring me down, meds to stop the hallucinations. Some of them were good drugs. Some were shitty. I did finally broke out of that depression! Then I faced years of out-of-control mania. But I still fought with hallucinations. They weren't all-consuming like they were when I was younger. Just troublesome. Whispers and visions and hearing TVs on when they were off, and feeling phantom hands touching me. They no longer spoke to me, telling me what to do. They just played with me.

So I started this med called Zyprexa, which has pretty thoroughly wiped out my hallucinations. Unfortunately my psychiatrist calls it "The Fat Pill." Pill side effects are nothing  new to me. Lithium caused cystic acne that scarred and pitted my face. It also damaged my thyroid. But Zyprexa caused weight gain and makes me sleep like the dead, fighting sleep HOURS after I finally wake up. It just brings me down in every sense. And I'd be lying if I didn't tell you... I miss alcohol!! It's a big no-no on Zyprexa.

My family has thought for a long time that I'm overmedicated; that these meds, ESPECIALLY Zyprexa has turned me into a walking corpse. And I hate that. I feel trapped by it, a huge weight settled on my chest. Just so stifled.

So on December 7th, I have a phone meeting with my psychiatrist and I'm gonna tell her.. I want OFF Zyprexa. I understand it will probably happen slowly, over months, but I'm done.

I also understand some--or more-- of the hallucinations will come back. But I have to be brave. My hallucinations can't hurt me, and these are usually pretty harmless anyway. So what if I see things in my peripheral vision or hear music that's not really playing. I think it will be worth it to live freer, not held down. 

It may sound silly but this is a big move for me. 

I'm a little scared. But I know it's right for me. And I have SO MUCH support. 

I can do this.

Sarah

A Quick Thought

 When I was younger, sometimes I felt much older than most kids my age. Mostly because I had already dealt with some pretty heavy shit... like hallucinations and depression and a suicide attempt all by age 12. My classmates seemed cheerful and carefree and I couldn't always relate.

Now, I often feel much younger than people my age. Especially because I have to live with my dad because my mental health makes it impossible to live healthily on my own. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't have anything to do with romantic relationships. So many people I went to school with and grew up with are married and/or have children or at least committed relationships. And here I am... just a big kid.

I'm not pretty. I'm just not. People will rush to correct me because they're nice and they care. But I'm not blind.. I know what I look like. I DO like my crazy hair and tattoos. But my nose is big and my skin is pitted. I'm overweight and... awkward. 

There are definitely guys I like! I'm so immature just talking to guys is kind of exciting. But looking at myself through their eyes, I'm just... odd. 

But all things considered, I'm doing pretty well! I'm healthy and I'm happy... just weird.

;)

Sarah

At... THE DENTIST

So about 6 months ago, I had a dental appointment.. a cleaning! And then... COVID-19 happened, and everything went to hell. I didn't mind. For no real reason, I hate the dentist. Then, last week, they called me up! Out of the blue.

"May I speak to Sarah please?"
"Speaking," I said, hesitantly.

"Hi!" a cheerful voice chirped. "Would you like to reschedule a cleaning appointment?"

I gritted my teeth. I wanted no such thing. But. "Yes, please."

So, just under a week later, I found myself outside the dental office. As I always do, I had scrubbed my teeth beforehand, SERIOUSLY scrubbed. Then I used a disposable dental pick. Then I swished Listerine. Then, right before I went in, like the weasel I am, I took out my tongue ring. I have been severely chastised over it before so now I just take it out beforehand. 

Compared to before, the waiting room was sparse and barely furnished, no chair within 6 feet of another. There was a heavy, clear plastic curtain hanging over reception. I perched on the edge of a plastic chair, wringing my hands. 

"You can come back now," said a short woman I didn't recognize. Her eyes followed my through the doorway, examining me. I'm used to this scrutiny. Not everyone likes my appearance. But she was looking at me for a different reason.

"I think you went to school with one of my kids," she said. She rattled off a few names and one was familiar. I said so. "Oh, she's on drugs now," she said, like she was telling me the afternoon's weather forecast.

I followed her down a short hallway and into a patient room. She directed me to a sink in the corner and handed me a paper cup filled with mouthwash. "Swish for a minute, then spit," she instructed. "Yeah, my daughter's on a lotta drugs now." So casual. "She has a couple kids, too. I have them now." I nodded, swishing obediently. What am I supposed to say?

"Mmmhmm," I said nasally, mouthwash threatening to bubble up my nose, so I said nothing further. 

"Spit." I did. 

"Are you on any medications?"

Son of a bitch!

"Yeahhhhhhh," I exhaled. I am on a shit-ton of medication. Under duress, I can name the medicines, but as for dosages? Pshhh. No way, man. 

She noticed my hesitance. "Maybe write them all down and bring them in to us?"

I jumped on the suggestion like a life raft. "Yes! Yes, I will." 

I haven't just yet.

I got some x-rays taken. I was relieved that I didn't have to remove my ear jewelry because that would be a lot of effort. 

A hygienist came in, scraped my teeth a little, then polished them. I recognized him as one of the tongue-stud-haters and was glad he said nothing about the hole in my tongue. 

Finally, The Dentist came in. I always find it interesting because he doesn't do much. He takes a single tooth scraper and kind of taps my individual teeth with it. 

"Your toothies look good," he murmured. "Tongue is pink and squishy." And pierced.

"All together, very boring," he concluded. "See you in 6 months!"

The candid nurse came swishing in and gave me my free toothbrush and appointment card for next time. On it, she had scrawled, "Bring list of medications."

I gathered up my belongings and turned to face her. "Um..." I didn't know what to say. "I hope your daughter gets better."

"Thank you," and she ushered me out the door. Out in the car I replaced my bright green tongue ring. 

FREE FOR SIX MONTHS!!!

Sarah

 

I'm Back! Going Way Back!

 Hey, guys! If I could have anything on earth, it would be a career as a successful writer. That, or a hair dye that is both unnatural in color and ACTUALLY permanent. Or a Firebolt, from Harry Potter. But I digress. I have several book ideas that I frequent between, but I just need more practice. Exercise, if you will. Years and years ago, I had a little following on my Myspace blog and then, a few people here on Blogger. I hope to pick these followers back up, and maybe get a few more. But first I've gotta win you all over. I like being funny and I really like telling my honest story. So a balance between those two is key. I HOPE you keep reading, because it's worth it. I know it is.

Some of my first and most powerful memories are memories of hurting myself. Not like falling off a bike and skinning my knees, but intentional self-punishment, Self harm. And I'm not talking older me, although I would, years later, go on to attempt suicide with a kitchen knife. No, I was a biter. That sounds sort of silly, doesn't it? But I would get so mad and upset with myself or a situation and the only relief was savagely biting my arm to the point of bruising. My little teeth would leave indents in my forearm. My parents noticed, concerned, and my mom actually bought me a few dog toys to bite INSTEAD OF my own skin. I had a beautiful green rubber bone, and a squeaky plastic chicken leg! They weren't flavored, just rubber. Those worked okay, except our Labrador, Holly, found them and claimed them. 

When no one was around, I also had a tendency to curl my hand into a fist and slam it into the side of my skull repeatedly. It just felt...good. Relief.  

When I was younger-- oh, please, who am I kidding?? ---NOW I am a rather shy person. Around people I know and trust, I can be quite silly and playful but people who don't know me think I'm a mute or something. But anyway, growing up, I struggled with this overwhelming fright of talking to people, and sometimes I would fight tooth and nail to avoid these situations. 

Another of my earliest memories is fighting with my mom over my socks. She would be trying to help me put on my shoes, but as she slid the light up sneakers onto my feet I would throw an absolute FIT. 
"My SOCKS are wrinkled!" I would wail. So my mom would pull the shoe off and smooth the sock as completely as humanly possible, then would put the shoe back on. 
My heartrate would spike, and I could feel the snake-like sensations of sock wrinkles bunching up and I would start to panic.
"WRINKLES!" I would cry.
"Sarah, there aren't any--"
"Wrinkles, there are wrinkles!" I would sob, and I would hate it. 

I will tell you know, I, at 28 years old, have for many years now been diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder and OCD, and I see little bits of that in the little Sarah I'm talking about. 

I think I was about four when I first hallucinated. It was the middle of the night and I awoke from a dream about a huge man with huge yellow eyes chasing me. When I woke, I looked at the door way... and he was standing there. His eyes glowed neon and he stared at me unblinkingly. I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering, then looked back. He was gone.

I was able to hide SOME of these occurrences, and, apart from generalized anxiety over just about EVERYHING, my family wasn't aware of my mental health issues. I mean, I was always a little odd! And kids in school were wary of me sometimes because I was asthmatic and had allergies and had to use inhalers frequently. This is totally just me bragging, but I was on Claritin and Zyrtek, when they were prescription... WAY before they were OTC.

I'll tell you one thing, though. I got one kick-ass family! Very very supportive and loving... EXCEPT!

Let me tell you the tale of the day  I ran away from home.

I was about 5 or 6 at the time, a million years ago, and we had just gotten a wonderful rain shower, which, looking back, is a big deal in itself. But after the rain quit, the air smelled fresh and wet and made you take those deep breaths that make you feel like your lungs are growing. My mom, and my sister Emmy (would have been 8 or 9 at the time) and myself, well we took a walk. I got to wear.. my galoshes!

Let me just take a minute and give the boots their due credit. They were big and red and shiny and squeaky and just plain delightful. When I walked in them, they made these amazing squeaks and whines and the soles made suctiony noises on tile. 

During our walk out in the misty air, there were these terrific puddles EVERYWHERE, just waiting to be disrupted. I would run and run and then HOP up and into the muddy water, The mud squished around my feet and sucked at the shoes when I tried to pull the boot out. 

"Help me, Mama!" I would whine. She rescued me and yanked me and the Red Rubber Wonders out of the puddle I was inhabiting. The guck made a final slurp as my boots pulled free.

Delighted, I did it again. "Mama, I'm STUCK!!" I wheedled. With a sigh, she once again freed me. The muddy squelchiness gave an unhappy gulp as, once again, I was saved. 

After the 5th time, she told me, "Do that again, you're on your own...."

PSHH!! My head kind of twitched with disbelief. The nerve! So next monstrous puddle I found I landed in it, water gushing up over the top of the boots. I cackled! Then... I couldn't get out.

"Mama!" I screeched. "I'm stuck!!"  Mom looked at my sister (who had also been rescuing me frequently) and they smiled at each other. 
"You're on your own, sorry!" And they took off WITHOUT ME! Headed home.

I seethed, seeing red. My mouth fell agape.  How... how... how dare they act like that! I could see I had done NOTHING wrong! I stuck out my bottom lip in an absurd pout. I couldn't believe how unfairly I was being treated! Just awful. I felt very, VERY sorry for my poor self. But then!

I had a thought. I didn't want to go home! Not where my mom and sister were being unreasonably cruel!

I was about a three minute walk to my Grama's house! I knew I was always welcome at Grama's.

I had to pull my feet out of the galoshes in order to get a good enough grip to pull them out of the mud. My bare feet sunk in the water and slime squished between my toes. With a great lurch I freed the boots. With as much dignity as I could muster, I turned my little nose up in the air and marched to Grama's. 

Gram, I knew, would care about me. She would treat me right. Gram, I knew, would love me. 

The problem? Gram, I saw, was not home. So I had no choice but to turn around and begrudgingly squelch on home. About halfway there, I ran into... Mom and Emmy! Well, well, well. Guess who deigned to find me. Peasants. 

But Mom let me sit on the kitchen counter while we washed my muddy feet in the sink, and gave me a huge glass of milk to drink-- I  needed a double!--  and suddenly  everything wasn't so bad. 

The moral of this story? Oh, there isn't one. Except.. I think we are all brats sometimes. 

If you read this whole thing, THANK YOU!! Please keep coming back! Every Thursday. 

Thanks, Sarah

Sounds of Nature

Years ago, I tried to label my jobs at Records' ACE Hardware here in Raton. I came up with "Mowing Queen" (I 'got' to mow the back lot in the summer) and "Inventory Specialist" (I counted items and corrected the inventory in the computer). Yes, it was every bit as exciting as it sounds.

Years later, I now can claim "cashier" and "Green House employee" and, well, "Inventory Specialist." But one of my biggest jobs now is doing books in the back office. I really like working back there! It's warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It's hushed and crowded with shelving units and computers and printers and files, files, files! The overhead fluorescent lighting provides a constant, soothing hum.

My computer and station is at the back end of the room, in a corner. I won't bore you with what I do, but suffice it to say it's a lot of counting. My high school age, math-hating self  kind of does a ugly laugh/cry when I realize I'm making my living by doing... math.

But I have to say, the most interesting aspect of my job back there is the fact that I share a wall with the ladies' restroom and the wall is thin... very thin. Comically, weirdly thin. One day I went to work sick, ran to the bathroom to puke my guts up, and returned to the office where I was told flatly, "You're sick. You've been hurling in the bathroom. We heard you. Go home."

I have compiled a short list of things heard-- OVER HEARD- in the ACE ladies' restroom.

• Grunts, groans, plops, and tinkling. This one is obvious and to be expected! Still, it's kind of an intimate thing, and when they're really trying hard you have to fight the urge to knock on the wall and yell, "FIBER!!"
  
• Woofing and howling. We allow dogs of all sizes in the store, as long as they're well behaved. And I guess if you bring your dog in with you, they go in the restroom with you, should that situation arise. It was just weird because there was this dog in the bathroom just CRYING and YIPPING and making a scene, and whoever the owner was, they kept oddly quiet. There were no hushes or calming, soothing words. Just a toilet flush and they were gone.
  
• "YOU PROMISED!!" This one was interesting. From my eavesdropping, I deduced that there was a mother and 6-ish-age daughter in the bathroom together. It would appear the kid was sitting on the toilet with unfavorable results. The mother hissed, "You promised! You. Promised" to which the kid started sobbing, "No, Mommy, YOU PROMISED, YOU did!" Glad to stay out of that one.
  
• Slamming door. This happens quite frequently, but you can get a good idea of the hurry they are in by the slam of the door. When you gotta go, you gotta go, door locks be damned!
  
• "Please, God, please." This one caught my attention right away because it was undeniably a man's voice and he was WORKING. Frustrated grunts and mini, pained yelps. But throughout it all he kept praying to God. I hope it helped.
  
• Tongues. Probably the weirdest overhearing-experience was ANOTHER man. There were no tell-tale sounds of plumbing like toilet flushing or sinks being turned on. He just hung out in the bathroom and chanted. It was absolutely unlike anything I'd heard before. Not English, Spanish, French, Russian, Mandarin, Pig Latin! It was harsh and guttural and had kind of a musical quality to it. He was just... speaking in tongues. And then he peed. 

Sorry for the bathroom humor!

I'm really getting back into writing projects and I think blogs are like exercise for my mind. You may see more of them!

Sarah

A Rusty Poem

Every so often I get in the bizarre mood to write a poem. It doesn't happen often, and when it does the results are mostly 50/50.

But I got in that mood tonight and I thought I'd write a poem about NEW YEARS!


Outside, it's winter, cold and snowy.
The wind is biting, chilling and blowy.
Christmas is over, but holiday cheer
Stays for a week, for a happy new year.
Now here's our chance, for all of us to say,
Our choice for a change, starting New Year''s Day.
Maybe it's your weight, an unhealthy diet,
Knowledge of exercise but unwillingness to try it.
Perhaps it's your job, a jail-like sensation,
A need to transition to a new occupation.
It could be a relationship, shredded on the floor,
Worth working, worth pushing, worth fighting hard for.
It could be as simple as choosing a new hair color,
Or using self-tanner for a darker skin pallor.
Maybe you just want to rid yourself of a bad habit,
Or the need to find a new house to inhabit!
It might be time to find a new city,
Or become a strong person needing no pity.
Maybe it's time to adopt a new friend,
A fuzzy creature who's with you til the end.
It's probably time to clean a bit better,
A tidying schedule to follow to the letter.
A well-rounded person must know how to cook,
But personally I end up with my nose in a book.
Most of us really just want to be happy,
To catch a daily afternoon nappy.
Saving money is easier said than done,
A hard choice that is necessary for some.
Quitting smoking is a hard but good choice,
As is learning to speak up with your voice.
The world is scary, and it can be hard to live,
But we can if we stay strong, help each other, and give.
Finding religion is key for some people,
Finding home in the church's tall bell steeple.
For others, like me, we find true life's solace
In family's embrace, the best people among us.
I myself want to become a famous writer,
To use words as my weapons, become a true fighter.
I think most of us just want to be our best selves,
To use New Years as a platform to better ourselves.
So outside the wind howls, I'm glad to be in,
Ready to start this new decade off with a grin.
Remember, you're beautiful, inside and out.
Loving yourself is what it's really about.

HAPPY NEW YEARS GUYS!!

Sarah