Flare & Flourish

Gratitude, Grief, and the Strange Passage of Time The last month of the year has arrived — that moment when lights go up, the air shifts, and the world around us seems to lean into celebration. For many, December is a festive season filled with joy, gatherings, and traditions. But as we settle into the glow of the holidays, there’s also an undeniable truth we carry quietly within us: this time of year can feel heavy, too. Because while there are tables full of laughter, there are also seats that remain achingly empty. As we close out the year, time does what it always does — it slips through our fingers in that strange way only December can manage. The days often feel slow, almost dragging, yet the year itself has flown by so quickly it’s almost frightening. You blink and suddenly you’re at the end again, asking yourself how it all moved so fast. And in the middle of it all, there’s the body we live in — sometimes strong, sometimes tired, sometimes feeling like it’s betraying the plans...

 Starlight “Starlight” is one of those underrated Taylor Swift songs that feels like a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It’s youthful, sparkly, wild-in-a-soft-way energy — the kind of song you play when you’re trying to remember what joy feels like without overthinking it. What I love most is how it captures that feeling of being caught up in a moment that’s imperfect but magical anyway. It’s not about having everything figured out. It’s not about looking perfect, being healed, or controlling the outcome. It’s about letting joy happen to you — even if it’s messy, unexpected, or a little chaotic. And honestly? That’s a mental-health lesson most of us forget. We get so caught up in growth, healing, schedules, “getting our life together,” and being the best version of ourselves that we forget to be the lighthearted one. The version of ourselves that laughs too loud, wears something ridiculous, says yes to something spontaneous, or stays out five minutes longer just because the...

I’m Done Pretending I Don’t Break Some days I swear I’m held together with nothing but adrenaline, caffeine, and old playlists I’m too scared to delete. I walk into rooms and instantly shift into whatever version of me feels safest. Softer here. Louder there. Funnier when the silence gets weird. I become whatever the moment needs, even if it drains me dry. People think that makes me confident. Honestly? It just makes me exhausted. I’ve spent years spinning for other people — reflecting back whatever light they want from me. In the daytime, it’s easy to pretend I’m solid. The world is bright, distractions are loud, and I can pass as someone who knows what she’s doing. I can glitter on command. I can be “fine.” Daylight hides a lot. But it’s at night — when everything gets quiet and all the masks slide off — that the truth shows up. At night, every reflection hits deeper. Every thought bounces off my walls. Every little crack glows in the dark, and suddenly I’m not some shiny, polished v...

ME!  “ME!” is one of those songs people love to tease, but honestly? It has the kind of chaotic, sparkly confidence that most of us wish we felt on a Monday morning. Or any morning, really. What I love about the song is that it’s not trying to be deep or emotional or dramatic. It’s not a heartbreak ballad. It’s not a philosophical masterpiece. It’s just fun — and sometimes, fun is the most healing thing you can give yourself. The whole vibe is basically: “I know who I am, and even if I’m a bit extra, that’s literally the point.” And that is such an underrated mental-health mindset. So often we shrink ourselves to seem easier, quieter, more digestible. We tone down our humor, our style, our voice, our quirks — all because the world convinces us that being “too much” is a flaw. But “ME!” flips that. It’s like this glittery reminder that your uniqueness isn’t a liability… it’s your superpower. When you embrace your weirdness, you stop trying to be a copy of everyone else and start bec...

  Wow Okay Healing Is… A Lot Honestly? Healing feels like stepping outside and immediately getting blinded by the sun. I’m like “can I get a minute??” But I guess feeling raw just means I’m actually feeling again. Which is kinda cool… kinda terrifying… 10/10 confusing.  Fear Still Shows Up (Embarrassing but True) Every time something good happens I’m like: “Okay… what’s the plot twist?” Trauma really said trust issues. But I’m learning fear doesn’t automatically equal danger. Sometimes it’s just my brain being dramatic.  Me? Enjoying Peace? Absolutely Not The way I can be chilling on a perfectly calm day and STILL think something’s about to explode… It’s talent at this point. But I’m practicing letting good moments be good. No overthinking. No catastrophizing. Just vibes.   Healing Is Literally a Maze and I Forgot My GPS Listen, if healing is a straight line, then I am absolutely on the wrong road. Mine is more like: → turn left → whoops dead end → spiral a little → ...

                                                                Good News If you asked me a month ago what “good news” meant, I would’ve said something simple — a test result coming back clean, a pain-free day, a moment of calm. But lately, good news has become something deeper, quieter. Something that looks more like survival than celebration. The past two months have been a blur — a blank space filled with flares that felt like fire under my skin. It started when I pushed my body too far, trying to keep up with life while it kept throwing punches. The fatigue hit me like a wave that wouldn’t let up, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find my footing. Then came the fear. My husband — my best friend, my anchor — was suddenly in the hospital. Two weeks of tests, scans, waiting, hoping. I tried to be strong for him, but ins...

                                       A Love Letter to the Person I Used to Be.   There’s something about Taylor Swift’s “Nothing New” that hits like a bruise you thought had healed. That quiet ache when she sings, “How can a person know everything at 18, but nothing at 22?” — it’s the sound of realising that the version of you that once felt infinite has slowly slipped away, and you didn’t even notice when she left. When I listen to that song, I see flashes of the person I used to be before fibromyalgia. The girl who didn’t have to plan her day around pain. Who didn’t measure her worth in energy levels or flare days. Who could stay out late, dance, laugh, and wake up the next morning ready to do it all again. Now, every movement, every choice, comes with a cost. There’s a dull hum beneath everything I do — a constant reminder that my body doesn’t play by the same rules anymore. Pa...

  A Fibromyalgia Warrior’s Wish List Before fibromyalgia, my wish list was full of adventure. I loved challenges and adrenaline — bungee jumping, travel, and I even planned to skydive on my 30th birthday. But fibromyalgia changed the direction of my dreams. Now, I live with constant fatigue, muscle pain, and sleepless nights. My body doesn’t allow the same freedom it once did, but that hasn’t stopped me from wishing — it’s just made my wishes deeper My New Warrior Wish List Better health — more strength, less pain, and a few more days that feel normal. Restful sleep — I’d give anything to wake up feeling truly rested. Mental peace — calmness in my mind, not just my body. Energy for life — to enjoy simple joys like walks, laughter, or time with loved ones. Empathy — from doctors, family, and friends who try to understand. Relief from brain fog — to think clearly again and remember things easily. Freedom from guilt — for needing rest or saying “no.” Hope — the unbreakable thread that...

  Not every role model inspires you through success — some do it through warning. You see their bitterness, their excuses, their fear of trying again… and it reminds you of one truth: settling is a slow death. Watching people give up on themselves can be painful — but it’s also powerful. It shows you where comfort leads, and why you should never stop chasing growth. Not everyone inspires greatness by example. Some inspire it by showing you the cost of giving up. Let their failures fuel your ambition. Let their choices teach you what to avoid. You owe it to yourself to rise above the limits they accepted as normal. Be the one who proves that courage, effort, and belief still matter in a world that settles too easily. https://x.com/FlareflourishF  

                                                                           Be Kind There’s a heaviness that comes from silence. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the kind that wraps itself around your chest and squeezes until it’s hard to breathe. I’ve carried that kind of silence for a long time—the silence of holding back what I truly feel because I was afraid of what might happen if I let it out. For years, I convinced myself that staying quiet was safer. I thought if I didn’t talk about my pain, it would fade away. If I smiled enough, maybe the world would believe I was fine—and maybe I would start to believe it too. But pretending to be okay doesn’t make the ache go away. It just buries it deeper, where it festers in the dark. The truth is, everything would be easier if we dared to say what ...

                                                         7 Months on LDN Hello dear readers and fellow warriors  Today I want to share my honest experience after 7 months on LDN (Low Dose Naltrexone) for fibromyalgia. I’m currently on 2mg, and while I’m also on a variety of other medications to manage my symptoms (a story for another day), this post is just about my journey with LDN. Let me start by saying this: it’s not easy to explain how it’s going—because “better” is such a loaded word when you live with chronic illness. At first, I wasn’t even sure if it was doing anything. With fibromyalgia, it’s hard to tell when something is helping or when the symptoms are just going through one of their unpredictable cycles. But like always, I kept track. I take notes for my rheumatologist, making sure I report anything that changes—even if it’s ...

  Thanks to My Psychologist (and How It Helped Me Live With Fibromyalgia) There was a time when I felt like a blank space. Not broken, exactly — just empty. I woke up, got through my days, smiled when I had to, and told everyone I was fine. But inside, I wasn’t living — I was surviving. My mind was constantly spinning, my body was constantly aching, and I felt disconnected from both. Then I met my psychologist. She didn’t hand me a miracle cure or promise that life would suddenly make sense. Instead, she gave me something better: tools. And slowly, those tools helped me build myself back from the inside out. Learning to Trust Someone With My Whole Life When I first started therapy, I didn’t know how to open up. I’d spent years pretending I had everything under control. Saying “I’m struggling” felt like admitting defeat. But my psychologist never made me feel weak for feeling deeply. She listened — really listened — to my chaos, my fears, my overthinking, my pain. She didn’t rush me...

  We All Have a Backpack Here’s something I’ve realised about life: We all carry a backpack. Not a literal one (though, mine probably has snacks and a charger), but a mental and emotional backpack — the invisible one we take everywhere. Inside, we pack everything we’ve been through. Our memories. Our lessons. Our heartbreaks. Our tiny victories. Some of us carry grief that weighs a ton. Others carry anxiety that hums in the background like a phone on vibrate. Some people’s bags are full of things they never asked to carry — trauma, chronic pain, or invisible illnesses like fibromyalgia. And yet, we all keep moving. Everyone Packs Differently Some people pack light — or at least it looks that way. Their bags seem tidy, zipped, maybe even color-coded. They smile easily, seem calm, and handle things gracefully. Others are carrying bags that are bursting at the seams. They’re holding it together with tape and stubbornness. Every day is a careful balancing act — trying not to let someth...

                                                                      A Comedy (Sort Of)   From the outside, I look like I’m thriving. People say, “Wow, you’re so productive!” and I smile like, “Thanks, I only had three mental breakdowns before lunch.” Welcome to the glamorous world of high-functioning anxiety, where we do all the things while our brains quietly scream in the background. Now sprinkle in a generous helping of fibromyalgia, and you’ve got yourself a fun little cocktail of chaos: one part panic, one part pain, and a dash of “why do my bones feel like they’re on fire?” Cheers.   When Your Brain Says “Run” and Your Body Says “Nah” High-functioning anxiety is that overachieving friend who can’t chill. Fibromyalgia is the friend who literally can’t move. Together, they make a killer duo — like a...

Moments that shift the ground under my feet so suddenly. There are moments in life that divide everything into “before” and “after.” you wonder if you imagined the world ever being stable.For me, that moment came in a hospital room. My husband had just undergone surgery to remove his gallbladder. The procedure went well. He was stable. We were preparing for discharge. I was packing his bags—so ready to take him home where we could rest and begin healing together. And then, the world stopped spinning. In the blink of an eye, he fell—off the hospital bed, hard—his body seized, blood on the floor, his eyes rolled back, and I screamed. I screamed like I never have before, trying to hold him, trying to wake him up, trying to call for help. Nurses rushed in. Alarms. Movement. Chaos. And I stood in the middle of it all, not as the patient this time, but as a wife watching the man she loves lie unconscious, motionless, with no warning, no explanation. They took him for an emergency MRI. I stoo...