Flare & Flourish

  In May, Autumn paints the trees, With amber leaves on every breeze. The air turns crisp, the earth slow down, A quiet calm spreads through the town. Each falling leaf, a gentle sigh, A peaceful wave, a soft goodbye. In May's cool touch, we pause, we see the beauty in stillness, wild and free.   Follow me on twitter for updates  https://x.com/FlareflourishF  

                                               (And what helps me release the guilt) I Plan “Rest” Into My Day—Not Around It Instead of squeezing in rest when I’m already crashing, I build it into my routine. I block off time for breaks, naps, breathing, and stillness—even when I feel “okay.” This stops the crash before it happens and reminds me that rest is productive. I Use the Spoon Theory as a Guide If you know the Spoon Theory, you’ll get this. Each day, I start with a limited number of spoons (units of energy). Some days I have more, some days less. I ask myself: Is this worth a spoon today? Can it wait? Learning to spend my spoons wisely changed everything.   I Break Tasks into Tiny Pieces I no longer try to clean the whole house in one go or answer every message at once. Instead, I break things into small, doable chunks. One shelf today. One phone call lat...

                                                                         BOUNDARIES There was a time when “no” felt like a bad word. When I bent and folded myself to fit into everyone else’s expectations—just to be liked, accepted, seen as reliable, strong, “fun.” I said yes when I was exhausted. Yes when my body was screaming. Yes even when my heart said, Please, not this time. Then fibromyalgia walked into my life like a wrecking ball. Everything changed. Suddenly, I couldn’t keep up with the pace I used to call “normal.” I wasn’t lazy—I was in pain. I wasn’t distant—I was drained. And I wasn’t choosing myself—I was still choosing everyone else. Until I couldn’t anymore. Something had to give. And it wasn’t going to be my soul. So, I started saying no. No, I can’t come over today. No, I’m not explaining...

                                                                                                        And How To Be Okay With It I used to say yes to everything. I showed up early, stayed late, remembered every birthday, helped carry chairs, danced until my feet ached. I was the one people could count on. And honestly? I loved being that person. But then fibromyalgia happened. And suddenly, showing up looked different. There were days I couldn’t even show up for myself, let alone anyone else. I started canceling plans. Missing events. Forgetting things I never used to forget. Not because I wanted to—but because my body whispered, “Please, not today.” And every time I said no, my heart broke a little. I felt like I was letting peo...

                    “I Miss Who I Used to Be, but I’m Learning to Love Who I Am Now” There are days I miss the version of me that used to dance without needing a break. The version who could wake up early, run errands, laugh with friends, and still have energy left over. I miss her—deeply. And sometimes, missing her brings tears I can’t explain. Fibromyalgia changed my life in ways I never saw coming. Suddenly, everything became slower, softer, and at times—silent. My body spoke a new language: pain, fatigue, fog. It didn’t ask me. It simply took up space and stayed. For a while, I fought it. I kept trying to be her—the old me. But the harder I tried, the more I broke down. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. And then something happened. Not all at once—but gently, over time. I began to see beauty in the quiet. In the small wins. In the way I kept showing up, even on days I felt like disappearing. I started noticing strength not in wha...

                                                         Let’s Talk About Trauma                                From Childhood to Adulthood, and the Healing In Between You don’t just “get over” trauma. It doesn’t pack its bags and leave the moment you grow up or move out. It follows you—in your thoughts, your relationships, your triggers, your silence. For a long time, I didn’t even know I was carrying trauma. I thought I was just sensitive. Moody. Maybe even broken. But I wasn’t broken—I was surviving. Childhood trauma leaves imprints. It shows up in how you flinch when someone raises their voice. In how you over-explain yourself, trying so hard not to upset anyone. In how you say “I’m fine” when you’re anything but. It teaches you to be small. To keep the peace. T...

                                                                                The Worry Tree With fibromyalgia, I often say I’ve become a worry tree. Always rooted in fear. Always growing new branches of what-ifs. Always holding more weight than I should. It’s not just the pain I carry—it’s the thoughts that never stop. And let me tell you, they grow faster than weeds. I worry about how I’ll feel when I wake up. Will today be a “good” day or one of those days where simply getting dressed feels like climbing a mountain? I worry about the future. Will I ever have the energy to do all the things I dream about? Will people get tired of my “maybe I can, maybe I can’t” answers? I worry about my relationships. Will my loved ones understand when I cancel again? Will they still see me, even when I...

  Sometimes anxiety sneaks in quietly. Other times, it storms in like it owns the place—tight chest, racing thoughts, shaking hands. It’s in those moments where everything feels like too much that I turn to something simple… something that brings me back. It’s called the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique. And no, it doesn’t fix everything. But it helps me breathe. It helps me pause. It reminds me that I’m safe, that I’m here, and that this feeling will pass. I ask myself these questions—slowly, gently, like I’m speaking to a friend: 5 things I can see: I look around. The soft blanket on the couch. A crack of sunlight on the floor. My dog’s tail wagging lazily. The cup of tea I forgot to finish. A framed photo that makes me smile. I name them. I see them. 4 things I can hear: The hum of the fridge. A car passing by outside. My breath—shaky but steady. A bird calling in the distance. I listen, even if the world feels loud. 3 things I can feel: My feet grounded on the floor. The cool surf...

                                                                                                       Isn’t Everything—And That’s Okay Are you also a neat freak? The kind of person who finds peace in order, who thrives on routine, and who believes—deep down—that if everything’s in its place, then maybe life will finally feel a little easier? Yeah… I get it. I used to think that if I could control enough, I could avoid the hard stuff. If I could plan well, clean enough, prepare for every outcome, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt. Maybe my body wouldn’t flare up. Maybe my emotions would stay steady. Maybe life would feel lighter. But let me tell you something I had to learn the hard way: Control is comforting—but it’s not everything. Today...

  May walks in like a soft-spoken friend, arms full of wildflowers and second chances. She doesn’t ask me to hurry— only to notice. The way sunlight lingers longer, golden and kind on my tired skin. The way trees stretch with quiet courage, buds becoming leaves, leaves becoming shade. I watch as the world reawakens— not with a shout, but with a whisper. And I wonder if I, too, am allowed to bloom slowly. Some days, I still carry the heaviness of yesterday, a dull ache tucked beneath my ribs. But May reminds me— there’s beauty in breathing anyway. A warm cup. A dog curled by my feet. A laugh that escapes before I can hold it back. These are the small miracles that stitch life together when everything else feels undone. So here’s to May— to the way she teaches me that life doesn’t need to be loud to be beautiful. Just soft. Just steady. Just here.   Follow me on twitter for updates   https://x.com/FlareflourishF