Lately I’ve been focusing intently on a mixed-media polymer clay art project that is building up the ol’ muscles ravaged by RSD and fibromyalgia. Every day I wake up, excited to work with Art, which competes with my husband for being the love of my life (to be fair, I know that I am in competition with my husband’s love of hunting and being a woodsman).  Art, or should I say movement in general, is so painful that it prompts my brain to say, “Why are you deciding to get out of bed today?” It is more necessary that I move now than if I were completely healthy because I have little to no reserve healthiness to fall back on. So, I kick my feet out from under my bed covers each day and mentally prepare for the fight.

However, it has not been as much of a struggle as dealing with the pain when a friend is broken somewhere in his or her life.

Right now I have a good friend whose heart is heavy. She is what I might refer to as an “art friend” because I met her through a shared artistic endeavor. She is incredibly talented, but right now her love for art is on hold. Her spirit and heart are heavy. To me, the worst part about it is that I am in another state and cannot be with her now. My humanness in dealing with illness reminds me that others are human, too, and need compassionate care. My heart cries, “How I wish I could help!” This hurts more than any physical pain I currently experience. Although art and friendships are not crucial to survival, it’s apparent they are fighting for that coveted top spot, otherwise I may not feel them at all.