Flare & Flourish

  The Life of a Showgirl: Living with Fibromyalgia in the Spotlight Taylor Swift’s music is full of raw lyrics about heartbreak, reinvention, and the invisible battles we fight when no one is watching. Listening to it, I couldn’t help but think about what it means to live with fibromyalgia — because in a way, it feels like living the life of a showgirl. On the outside, people see the version of me that’s “ready for the stage.” Smiling, dressed up, holding it together for family events, birthdays, or even just a grocery run. Like a showgirl, I know how to perform — to sparkle when I need to, to pretend the pain isn’t stealing my energy, and to act like everything is okay. But backstage, when the lights fade, reality hits. The makeup comes off, the heels are kicked aside (let’s be honest, mostly swapped for slippers), and the body that carried me through the performance collapses into exhaustion. That’s the side most people don’t see. The flare-ups, the stiffness, the tears of f...

Blank Space Fibro stage   Taylor Swift’s Blank Space is famously about a dramatic, whirlwind romance with a touch of chaos. For me, living with fibromyalgia, the chaos doesn’t come from love — it comes from my own brain. Brain fog is the plot twist nobody warned you about, and suddenly my life feels like a blank space… one I can’t quite fill. Some days, I walk into a room with purpose, only to pause mid-step, wondering, “Wait… why did I come here?” My intentions are strong, my plans are clear in my mind, but the execution… well, that’s another story. It’s like my brain takes a little vacation without asking. And I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity — because if I didn’t, I’d cry. Blank Space captures the feeling perfectly: there’s potential, there’s possibility, but there’s also a wild unpredictability. My to-do lists disappear into nothingness, my calendar reminders seem like riddles, and sometimes even my own thoughts slip away like they were never there. Writing something dow...

   “Invisible Strings (Fibro Version)” inspired by Taylor Swift’s Folklore Woke up to a storm beneath my skin, Sky outside is calm, but I’m caving in. Lace and linen dress, hair in disarray, I fake a smile the fibro tries to fray. You don’t see the tremble in my tea, A silent war, dressed up in poetry, But I still dance in the kitchen light, Even when the pain keeps me up all night. There’s a rhythm to this ache I know, A soft refrain that never lets me go. Invisible strings, they pull and twist — But I’m still here. I still exist. I used to think the world would understand, But chronic things don’t fit in flawless plans. They call me strong, like that makes it okay, But even diamonds crack beneath the weight. I write it down in metaphors and flame, Turn every flare into a song with your name. And I still hum to the hallway light, Even when my skin don’t feel quite right. There’s a beauty in the breaking, too, In every fight to just push through. Invisible strings, sharp and t...

  This Is Me Tired (Fibromyalgia Version) Taylor Swift’s This Is Me Trying has always resonated with me, but living with fibromyalgia gives it a whole new, deeply personal meaning. Some days, just existing feels like an Olympic event. Every movement, every task, every interaction takes effort — even if it doesn’t look like it from the outside. And yet, I keep showing up. That, to me, is the essence of trying. Fibromyalgia is invisible, and so is the effort it demands. Rolling out of bed, preparing a simple meal, or answering a text message can feel monumental. But even when my body resists, I keep going. Even when my energy dips into the negatives, I push forward, one slow step at a time. Every attempt is a small victory, even if it’s quiet and unseen. This Is Me Trying captures the bittersweet struggle of being fully present in a world that doesn’t always see your battles. Sometimes I get frustrated at my limitations, sometimes I cry over the things I can’t do, and sometimes I cel...

 Begin Again...Tomorrow Maybe (Fibromyalgia Version) Taylor Swift’s Begin Again is a song about renewal, fresh starts, and the courage to try again after disappointment. For me, living with fibromyalgia, every morning is a begin again moment. Each day brings uncertainty — will my body cooperate, or will a flare take over? Yet, despite the unpredictability, I wake up and try again. Fibromyalgia doesn’t come with warnings or schedules. Some mornings, I can barely lift my arms; others, I feel almost “normal” for a few precious hours. And that’s where the hope lies. Each new day is an opportunity to reset expectations, embrace what I can do, and forgive myself for what I can’t. Listening to Begin Again, I think about the little victories: making breakfast without pain spiking too early, finishing a small chore, or even enjoying a quiet cup of tea in the sunlight. It reminds me that progress isn’t always dramatic — sometimes it’s as subtle as finding joy in a moment when my body allows ...

  Feeling 22 With 22 Symptoms (Fibromyalgia Version) Taylor Swift’s 22 is the ultimate anthem of youth, freedom, and boundless energy — everything I once imagined for September birthdays. But living with fibromyalgia, my version of 22 comes with a twist: sometimes it feels more like 82. And honestly? That’s okay. The song is all about celebrating life, letting loose, and embracing joy. For me, those celebrations are quieter, slower, and often involve a heating pad or cozy blanket. While my friends might dance all night or go on spontaneous adventures, my September birthday might include sipping tea, taking small walks, and laughing at my own limitations. It’s less about doing everything and more about enjoying what I can do. The humor comes naturally. I sing along with Taylor, imagining myself at 22 with endless energy — and then glance at my body and think, “Yeah… maybe 82 is more accurate today.” But that’s part of the charm. Fibromyalgia has taught me to find joy in little victo...

(Birthday Edition) Taylor Swift’s Style is iconic — sleek, confident, and effortlessly cool. For most, it’s about glamour, charm, and timeless fashion. For me, living with fibromyalgia, Style takes on a very different, yet equally valid meaning — especially in September, my birthday month. Some days, my “fashion statement” consists of pajamas at 3 PM, hair barely brushed, and a heating pad tucked under my shirt like an accessory. Society might raise an eyebrow, but I say: make it fashion. Fibromyalgia may slow me down, but it doesn’t steal my creativity, humor, or my right to celebrate my birthday in comfort. After all, birthday vibes are sacred, even if the body refuses to cooperate. Being stylish in fibro life isn’t about high heels or tight dresses. It’s about confidence in the little things: a cozy sweater that hugs you just right, a favorite pair of socks that make your feet happy, or a calming cup of tea that says, “Yes, I am indulging in self-care today.” That’s my style — pract...

"Back To December Fibro's Time Machine" Taylor Swift’s Back to December is a heart-wrenching song about regret, nostalgia, and wishing you could rewrite the past. For me, living with fibromyalgia, the song takes on a whole new meaning: some days, it’s not about revisiting a relationship — it’s about wishing I could go back to bed… and stay there. Fibro mornings are unpredictable. Some days, my body rebels so strongly that getting out of bed feels impossible. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, remembering all the things I should be doing. Laundry, emails, coffee with a friend — everything seems far away, like it belongs to another life. And all I can think is: “Back to bed. Back to safety. Back to warmth.” There’s a strange mix of guilt and comfort here. Society tells you to “power through” and “push yourself,” but my body doesn’t respond to societal pressure. Instead, it whispers (or shouts), “Back to bed.” And honestly, sometimes I obey, with a kind of tender resignati...

Spoiler, My Body Doesn’t When Taylor Swift released Shake It Off, it instantly became an anthem about brushing off negativity and dancing through life. The beat makes you want to move, to shake off the stress, the haters, and the weight of the world. But as someone living with fibromyalgia, let me just say… spoiler: my body doesn’t shake anything off. If I tried to “shake it off” the way Taylor does on stage, I’d probably end up flat on the couch with a flare that lasted three days. My body doesn’t exactly approve of spontaneous dancing or carefree movements. In fact, sometimes just reaching for something on a high shelf can feel like an Olympic event. But here’s where I find the humor: fibro might stop me from physically shaking things off, but I’ve learned to mentally shake them off instead. I laugh at the absurdity of my body’s rules — like how a short walk can leave me sore, but folding laundry somehow feels like I’ve run a marathon. I shake off the guilt that tries to creep in whe...

  Invisible Arrows of Pain In Taylor Swift’s The Archer, she sings about vulnerability, invisible battles, and the ache of feeling misunderstood. When I listen to it through the lens of fibromyalgia, I can’t help but laugh at how perfectly it describes what I live with daily — except in my case, it’s like my body is both the archer and the target. Some days, I wake up and it feels like I’ve been hit with arrows in places I didn’t even know could hurt. One morning, it’s my ribs. Another day, it’s my shoulders. Then without warning, my legs decide they’re next. It’s like an archer with terrible aim, firing arrows randomly just to keep me on my toes (or more accurately, off them). Fibromyalgia pain is invisible to the outside world, which makes it even more fitting. People can’t see the arrows that land. They can’t see how sharp, how heavy, or how exhausting they are. To them, I might look “fine,” but inside, it’s a battlefield. And just like Taylor sings, “I wake in the night, I pace...

  A Love Story with My Heating Pad When Taylor Swift sang “If you could see that I’m the one who understands you” in You Belong With Me, she was talking about unrequited love. But let’s be honest — the truest relationship I’ve ever had in my chronic illness journey is with my heating pad. Fibromyalgia pain has a way of showing up uninvited, at the worst possible times. It doesn’t knock politely; it barges in like it owns the place. My body becomes stiff, sore, and achy, and no amount of shifting in bed or layering of blankets quite cuts it. That’s when my heating pad comes to the rescue, like the dependable partner who never lets me down. When the world doesn’t understand my invisible pain, when people think I “look fine,” or when my illness makes me feel isolated, my heating pad simply shows up. It doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t judge. It just offers warmth, comfort, and a kind of relief that feels like a hug I didn’t know I needed. Honestly, if Taylor rewrote this song for chr...

   My 10-Minute Battle with Fibromyalgia There’s a reason Taylor Swift’s All Too Well (10 Minute Version) is so iconic. It’s long, emotional, and layered with meaning. And honestly? That’s exactly how I feel every single morning when I try to get out of bed with fibromyalgia. People who don’t live with chronic illness might think “getting up” is just a simple task. You set an alarm, stretch, and begin your day. For me, it’s a 10-minute (or longer) epic journey — the kind Taylor could have written a ballad about. It starts with me opening my eyes and realizing my body feels like it ran a marathon in my sleep. My muscles are heavy, my joints ache, and the pain lingers all too well. Then comes the negotiation stage: “If I roll over slowly, maybe my legs won’t scream at me… if I sit up carefully, maybe I won’t feel dizzy.” But more often than not, my body has other plans. Some mornings I laugh at the absurdity of it all. Who knew standing upright could feel like climbing a mountai...