I think I just stepped on a cow patty.
I think I just stepped on a cow patty.

I have been extremely introverted this past week, very quiet and admittedly depressed as hell.

I ignored phone calls. I ignored everything, really. I binge watched on Netflix and listened to music that was recorded while I was still just a twinkle in my daddy’s eye.

On Wednesday, I had a meltdown and started to cry hysterically. My best friend came over in a flash and talked me down.

The depression is a liar. You don’t suck.

Fibro took away my life, stole all of my dreams.

Then you make new ones. It’s lying to you.

I want to be normal again.

You can’t be like you were 4 years ago. Those days are over.

No! (Insert phlegm noises.)

You are still Mer. Deep down in your core.

Thank you, Cheryl. I love you, man.


My buddy ES sent me a T-shirt from his Cafepress shop for my birthday.


Thanks, ES. You kick ass.

The weather here in Cleveland has been totally batshit crazy. From close to 90 degrees to a frigid 56 this morning. I had a flare yesterday and could barely stay awake.

I snore loudly.

My puppy likes to eat her own poop.

Let’s see, that’s about it for this week.

That nasty smell is either my pup’s breath or Cowboy Murray’s boots. Or possibly both.