As I mentioned in my last post, I participate in a project called One Little Word. Part writing. Part photography. Part artsy fun. All looking through my world through the lens of a word. Most years my words somehow seem to find me, though I realize that I have to be open to the process and letting them in. This sums up POSSIBLE, my new word for 2022. Possible may seem like an unusual choice for someone with so many limitations outside of my control. If you are new here, I have a rare disease that causes bone to form in my muscles, joints, and other connective tissue, progressively and significantly affecting movement. The irony of choosing this word certainly isn't lost on me. Yet, whatever it means for my life this year, I'm determined to explore what's truly possible.

Possible is recognizing that change can be a positive thing. For much of my life, change has seemed negative. So much change was forced upon me because of FOP. Take back my own power to change.

Possible can happen slowly. Good things are seldom rushed into existence. Today is full of possible. And, at the end of the say, if it wasn't all I hoped for, I can still be grateful and recognize that tomorrow is a new days full of possibilities of its own. 

Possible is feeling all the feelings, living wholeheartedly, and having faith in the process.

Possible is feeling grounded but still having the ability to dream.

I don't know the limits on possible. No one else does either.

Possible needs space. I want to create that space by getting rid of thoughts and things I don't need anymore.

More to come as 2022 unfolds.

Since 2011, I've participated in an online class (and community) called One Little Word.

Before looking ahead to 2022, I wanted to look back on the things I want to remember about 2021 and my word rhythm.

I want to remember that how I react to what happens around me ha a ripple effect. Pause before responding. It all affects the rhythm.

I want to remember that the pandemic, my disability, and the ways in which both affect my family's life is something I can't help, and therefore something I shouldn't feel guilty or sorry about.

I want to remember that rhythm is a grounding thing. As lost as I've been sometimes this year, I feel grounded in this moment. And that matters.

I want to remember that I'm capable of rhythm. It may seem harder to find sometimes—as life seems to get harder with each passing year—but I'm determined to reclaim it in whatever new form it takes and will appreciate it all the more.

I want to remember that I can create new neural pathways and learn new patterns of thinking that serve me better than old habits. Not all change is bad. (Because of FOP. I think I'm more likely to be wary of change.)

I want to remember this: "You may not be in a rhythm quite yet, but there is rhythm in your heartbeat. And even in the waiting, that means something."—Morgan Harper Nichols

I want to hope that better days are ahead because we learn through the hard stuff.

I'm trying something a bit different today. Last month I hosted the online workshop that I mentioned in my most recent post. Life has been a bit of a whirlwind since then. I thought I would simply post a link to a video of my daily life that I created for that workshop.

This was my introduction: "Rhythms and Routines That Simplify Our Lives. The tools that help us. Yes. The modifications we make to live better lives. Yes and so much more than this. It's about how we get through our days, even the toughest ones. How we negotiate one more change in our lives. And how we somehow find rhythm in the process.

Most of the time, what I write in this space is specifically because I write with the intention to post it. In this case, I originally had a different purpose. In November 2021, the support group for families dealing with the extremely rare disease that I have is having an online family gathering. As travel is extraordinarily difficult for me, I’ve been grateful for the opportunity to “meet” online for the past two years as in-person meetings were placed on hold. My last in-person event was in 2000, which feels like a lifetime ago. Earlier this year, I submitted an idea for a workshop called “Rhythms and Routines That Simplify Our Lives” to discuss how to make day-to-day life with FOP a little easier. My idea was accepted and I will be hosting a workshop with the help of several members of the FOP community. As I was gathering my thoughts together, these things came into my head. 

First, there is no one-size-fits-all solution to life with FOP (short for fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva). Families live in different circumstances with different resources. These are 10 things I’ve learned through the years that help me and my family cope and make living with a difficult condition a bit easier. 

1. Help. Many of the things I do require help from others. A few things can be done independently, such as using the TV or the computer. Over the years, I’ve figured out that sometimes I’m better off letting others help me more because it allows me more time to do the things that I enjoy.  That’s a place where we each have to figure out which approach works best for us. Another useful thought is remembering that, no matter how dependent I am on others, help can still be a two-way street. I try to make a special effort to help others in ways that I can—computer help, learning more about a topic and then teaching it, etc.

2. Schedule flexibility. I find that I work best when I have a schedule, but also schedule some built-in flexibility. 

3. Space and “free time”. I find that my family works best when we all get some space to enjoy different things. That’s been harder during Covid-world, but we try. One thing that really helped a lot was when we took the big step of getting a part-time caregiver so my parents could have more free time. It’s been helpful for me as well because it gives me someone outside of my family to whom I can relate.

4. Change is necessary, but not all changes are inevitable. When I was growing up, my family had no idea what to expect from FOP because we didn't know other families who lived with my condition. Looking back, there are things we could have planned for better if we had known what the future might have held. One-story homes are awesome. Ways to avoid stairs are extra awesome. Roll-in showers are really nice. But you can’t predict everything that will happen. Don’t try!

5. Be okay with plans not working out and look for the good in some of the most difficult situations. If you are going through a really tough time, name 1-3 things each day that you are  grateful for. I like to think of this as the “silver lining” rule. For example, all of my favorite people are people I wouldn’t have met if I didn’t have FOP. And I’m fairly certain that I’m a stronger and more empathetic person because of FOP.

6. Embrace the place where you are even when it turns out differently than you expected. When I was in my 20s, I pictured myself working full-time in a job I loved. Once my elbows became fused, it became more difficult to pursue my chosen career of teaching. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I always find plenty of things to do now—even though I spend most days at home. I have a better balance of different things in my life too.

7. This one is in honor of dads. Duct tape can solve everything. Well, not everything, but I use it every day when I brush my teeth and it was used for my original extension fork when I woke up and couldn’t bend my arm. It’s an example of how special tools don’t have to be fancy or expensive. 

8. It will likely take longer than you think. I’m notorious around here for underestimating how much time it will take to do something. Maybe that happens to you too—in lots of little and big ways, from how long it takes to do a seemingly simple thing to how long it takes a flare-up to resolve.

9. Sometimes you have to invent new guideposts and change things up when old ways aren’t working.

10. Show love, kindness, gratitude, and grace whenever possible. It’s hard being dependent on others, and it’s hard on others for us to be so dependent on them. 
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P.S. There is no such thing as perfect or normal. And the world would be boring if there was!

There's a day devoted to nearly everything. That said, there truly should be a day devoted to photos. They are as close as we can come to preserving moments small and momentous—and in my opinion equally important in different ways. Well, today is that day.  In honor of World Photography Day. I'm offering a few tips related to photos.

Backup. Backup. Backup. Do you have backups of all of your favorite photos–even the ones in old photo albums that may not have been digitized? If not, start now! Make sure you have at least two copies, preferably one that lives off-site in case of an emergency. 

The Backup Bootcamp course teaches you how to do this and organize your photos. (It relies on the cloud.) If you prefer localized options, external hard drives are a great solution. If you are feeling overwhelmed and want someone to start the process for you, here is another option for organizing your photos.

Taking better photos. I've always been a big believer in learning. That applies to photography too. I'm currently taking The Magic of Moments through Ali Edwards. For a deeper dive into the combined world of photos and storytelling, also consider Lens of Joy.

Use your photos. Put a photo in a frame. Make a photo book. Start simple. I also love Stacy Julian's Photo Freedom class. I think I first took it in 2007. The more comprehensive paid class is currently on-going and isn't enrolling new students right now. However, this mini self-guided class is available for free and teaches the guiding principles designed to get you using your photos and thinking about them in new ways. It is likely very different from any class you've ever taken on the subject. 

​Stacy loves finding creative ways to use photos. Here are some ideas. Here is one more.

And if you need more reasons to do something with your photos, read this: The Most Published Generation Will Have No Photos in Ten Years by Photographer Mike Yost. Thought it was published in 2015, the article is still very relevant today.

Those who know me know that I don’t dwell on the things I can’t do. However, when the world makes it nearly impossible to do some of the things I CAN do, that is when I get frustrated. Here are some of those things…

I’ll start with the one that made me think about this topic again. 12 South Farmers Market Peach Fest. First, you have to understand that I love peaches, perhaps more than any other person on the planet. I was born in a state second only to California in peach production—and it may not be the state you think. I love fresh peach pie on my birthday (or any time!), peaches and oatmeal for breakfast, and peaches served almost any way. You would think having a Peach Fest in a park not far from my home today would be cause for celebration. You would be wrong. You see, I went to the first Peach Fest in 2015 with my mother and two friends. We had a good time. My mom and I returned the following year minutes after opening—only to find the handicap spaces full with people parked illegally and no other options for parking our oversized van. So back home we went. Getting out is no easy effort. It takes planning and can test my endurance. So to go back home disappointed and empty-handed was…well, there are no words. At least I had none left to say. It was a quiet trip home.

Since then I have tried sending emails to the organizers, posted on their social media, sent them private messages. I have NEVER received even one response. The most kindness I received was from a vendor who makes wonderful pies, who expressed her sympathy and said that she hopes to open her own pie shop and make it accessible to people with disabilities. Our world truly needs more people like this. 

Today is Peach Fest AGAIN, and I’m not going. Fortunately there is an accessible fruit and vegetable market down the street that has wonderful peaches. We may get some of them and have our own celebration. (Thanks to a sweet friend for letting me know they carry peaches from my favorite state.)

Now for the issue that truly tugged at my heart for a long time. I can handle stares from people because I look different. I don’t mind answering questions about my disability because that’s how people learn. The one thing you don’t get warned about is the silent and unprovable discrimination you encounter. I was fortunate to have parents who valued education. I was fortunate to have a university in my city that made numerous accommodations so that I could go to classes, a mom who drove me back and forth each day and spent more time in the library than I did searching for books I needed for papers I needed to write. After six years, I had a graduate degree and was ready to take on the world. Well, STOP. You see, I was unprepared for a world that didn’t look past my disability. I thought teaching would be a field where people would be more open in addition to being something well-suited to my skills. I had interviews. I worked as a substitute and didn’t get calls back to any of the schools except the one I attended, as some of the teachers knew me and what I was capable of. It was so discouraging because I always knew one thing: I wanted to work very badly, and that should have been enough. I became a part-time substitute teacher for the school down the road and a part-time tutor, as self-employment was my best and only apparent option. I enjoyed the years I spent teaching. In hindsight, all the more because my disability progressed and I can no longer do those things. (Honestly, the thought that one day I might not be able to work never occurred to me.)

Looking back, I don’t think any of the people I encountered purposefully treated me different because of my disability. So part of my purpose in writing this is to ask you, my readers, to be open to the fact that people with disabilities do have something valuable to contribute to the word. We want to be part of it. If you encounter a person with a disability, know they don’t want to be treated as an inspiration or something extra special. They just want to be given the same opportunities as everyone else. We just sometimes need a little extra help from you to get there, whether it’s an open mind or a willingness to see the things that unintentionally make our world a little smaller.

I've always believed there is a lot we can learn from others, and know that my viewpoint isn't the only one out there. As I'm about to turn 52, I'm sometimes more jaded than I was at an earlier age, and in others ways more content and sure of myself. I also know firsthand that the voices of people with disabilities aren't often heard because we are a silent minority sometimes dealing with health issues, social isolation, and other things that need our attention more than speaking up. So today, I'm turning my blog over to other voices.

This is the time of year when my thoughts turn to fairy gardens. A few musings for the curious…

First, I’d like to believe that fairies do exist. They get a reputation for causing mischief, though I think they just want to enjoy the natural world and do their own thing. Before I started growing tiny gardens, I visited Disney World with my young niece. She asked if Tinkerbell really existed. I said, ‘Yes, she’s just very tiny,” much to my sister’s dismay. I came across this quote many years later, and I think it sums up why I said yes. Madeline L’Engle, most well-known for writing A Wrinkle in Time, said, “But if I knew everything, there would be no wonder, because what I believe in is far more than I know.” I’m all for keeping our sense of wonder no matter how young or old we are.

What is the difference between a miniature garden and a fairy garden? The terms are often used interchangeably. Technically in a miniature garden, everything is done on a miniature scale—miniature plants and miniature accessories, all in proportion to each other. A fairy garden doesn’t have to ascribe to set standards. One can use miniature plants or full-size plants and mix ratios. Sometimes I use larger accessories and sometimes I use small ones. Sometimes I use larger fairies and sometimes smaller ones. Sometimes I don’t use any fairies at all and imagine visitors coming to my enchanted spaces, especially at night. 

How to start? I started relatively small, with a multi-tiered container garden. I think starting small is a good way to start. But as those who know me well know, I often go “all in”. So the gardens grew. Don’t ask me how many I have this year! I’m not even sure I know. The stores where I get my plants had some new things, so I confess to getting carried away with the possibility of testing some new plants in my gardens. I’m curious to see how well they do. I also plan on spending a lot of time on my little deck this summer. 

Where to find plants and cute things? These are some of my favorite online places to shop. You can also find miniature accessories at craft stores and garden centers. Garden centers may have some miniature varieties of plants, though if you wish to "go small" with your plants, then I recommend a place that specializes in plants for miniature gardens. They will have the best selection and advice. 
Miniature Gardening
Miniature Garden Shoppe
Two Green Thumbs 
My Fairy Gardens
Little Hedgerow

A few extras you may want to include:
Fairy Berries - The tiny balls of glowing goodness are truly special. They are battery-powered, so I don't recommend running them all of the time! The linked site sells them in bulk, but you get 10 times as many for the price of one package normally!

Solar fairy lights - No need to worry about battery packs or if they are waterproof

And UV spray to protect your accessories from fading in the summer sun. Don’t learn what I learned the hard way. Available at craft stores.

And finally, a link to my Pinterest board for more inspiration.

If you read this and it inspires you to grow your own fairy garden, I would love to see how it turns out.

It was just about a year ago that I wrote my first and only post referencing the pandemic. It certainly wasn’t the easiest year of my life (our lives). It certainly isn’t over either, taking into account both the worldwide picture combined with the fact that it’s very risky for me to take the vaccine because intramuscular injections pose an enormous threat to people with my genetic condition—that is how my jaw fused when I was nine following a dental procedure.

So why am I saying, “It wasn’t all bad.” Well,  I try my best to look at life in shades of gray instead of black and white. And I try to focus on the positive aspects when I can because it makes the more difficult things more manageable. Don’t get me wrong—there are also plenty of times where that doesn’t happen. Again, shades of gray.

Here are some things that made life more bearable this past year, as well as some lessons I’ve learned.
Card-making. In the last few years, I’ve enjoyed making hand-made cards. Well, truthfully I help instruct my mom and part-time caregiver to help bring these creations to life. It’s not always a process that goes smoothly, and it certainly isn’t the easiest way to send someone a card. (Or as said on a stamp set, “This card cost 10x more than a store-bought card because #onlythebestforyou” and “I came, I crafted, you’re welcome”, which in its own way appeals to my Latin scholar self—not sure if that was intended as a reference to "Veni. Vidi. Vincit...I came. I saw. I conquered." or not.) We are getting better at the process though. This was one of our earliest methods of coping with the the uniqueness of the past year.
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Bringing back the blog. Okay, I haven’t been the most regular writer and hope to change that this year. Writing has always been something I’ve enjoyed, though as with card-making it takes time and a lot of thought. Practice is the only thing that makes it easier, and it allows me to express what I’m feeling, which is a valuable thing.

One Little Word. Since 2011, I’ve participated in an online class called One Little Word. Last year my word was play. Maybe not the easiest word during a pandemic. My album isn’t done, but I have done the prompts:) This year my word is rhythm. My guiding quote is, “Take heart. Breathe deep. You are free to find new rhythms here” by Morgan Harper Nichols. Without this word in my life, I might have never learned about a tongue drum—named for the carved tongue-shaped grooves that create its different tones. Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely thorough researcher. I looked into these special drums that require no musical skill, but I hadn’t purchased one—until this past weekend when I broke out of my home for my first fun outing, outside and masked (mainly because of lung restrictions that keep me in the high-risk category and the fact that there are usually lots of people at craft fairs). I was looking in a different direction when I heard a sweet sound that I thought I recognized. I turned around. Yes, a tongue drum. Yes, I bought one after asking lots of questions. In fact, I bought a slightly dented one, something I wouldn't have considered beforehand. (You really can’t tell unless you know where to look). And as an added plus, my mom finds it relaxing to play and the artist is making a special attachment that I can use to attach it to a belt and place it in my lap so I can play it myself. Apparently, he has done that before. I never would have thought of that either. You meet amazingly wonderful and talented people at craft fairs.

Mind-body work. While I’m not the biggest fan of the fact that social media tracks what we search and where we go to provide us with targeted ads, sometimes that does have an upside. I get chronic headaches. I can have good days, bad days, good weeks, bad weeks…you get the picture. My life is often controlled by either headaches or my attempts to keep them under better control. In summer 2020, I saw an ad for a pain-relief app, which uses educational audio, meditation, somatic tracking, and journaling prompts to help people with their symptoms. It’s really designed for people with no structural issues or medical conditions who nevertheless experience chronic pain. I decided to take a chance anyway because a. I don’t have headaches or pain all of the time and b. not all people with my disease have headaches or chronic pain. So theoretically I could gain some benefit. What would it hurt to try? The app helped a bit, but what has made a bigger difference was taking a 3-month online class in the fall, followed by working individually with a mind-body coach whom I found through one of my classmates. (I just began that journey in March.) It’s still very much a work in progress, but my symptoms didn’t develop overnight either. One of the best things to come out of the experience was a sense of camaraderie with my "classmates". We still meet once a month. One of my group members also has a wonderful blog on Facebook that’s full of insight. (And when she's able to travel again, I assume it's also full of stories of her walks across the United States to honor veterans.)

Grace towards myself and others. The pandemic has had the unfortunate downside of making it easier to judge other people. That person is living life in fear. That person is being so careless. I admit I took great offense to people saying I’m living my life in fear (not me specifically) because I and my family made what we felt was the best choice for us and stayed home except for grocery shopping, which seemed safe enough and allowed my mom to get out of the house once in a while. I admit that I had strong feelings when I saw people do what seemed like unsafe things at the time. I’m trying to do better.

Music. I occasionally go to concerts, though it takes a lot of effort and planning. Downtown Nashville doesn’t have lots of places for oversized vans with wheelchair lifts. And I have to hope I don't get a headache or at least hope it's bearable. The pandemic has been a true blessing. This past weekend I attended 4 concerts in a 24-hour period with better seats than I could have had if I had been there in person. An added plus is that the lead singer (now also a solo artist) of one of my favorite bands in college hosts multiple concerts a week, selecting a charity for each one and taking requests for songs. I also love that his “regulars”, known affectionately as squirrels because they can distract him from playing sometimes, chat with each other during the concerts.

Virtual traveling. Okay, for me this was actually a thing before the pandemic. I called it “virtual vacations”. I would research different areas—my favorite may have been the North Pole vacation suggested by my niece many years ago. Apparently, you also really can take a trip to the North Pole! In 2020, I got to attend my first family gathering of families dealing with my medical condition in 20 years, as the annual meeting was held virtually. There’s simply no substitute for the sense of community created by being with other families who understand exactly what you go through on a daily basis. Here is another one of my favorite pandemic “trips”: I went to Keukenof Gardens in Holland, which even during "regular" years is only open 8 weeks per year because it takes nearly a year to plan for its beautiful spring blooms. In 2020, no one was able to visit in person. If you love gardens, the videos are breathtaking.

Pets. I’m not sure who got the better end of the deal. Pets who had their families around all of the time or the people who loved them. Enough said.

Letting go. Of so many things, whether it was cleaning out my craft closet or the more hurtful feeling that I am a burden. That’s an understandable feeling when I am dependent on someone else to help me with nearly everything in my life. Instead I often needed to remind myself that much of life is both give and take and that there are things I can do to help others as well, whether it’s computer-related things (one area where I am independent) or helping bring out creativity in others. The last year has just been so tough, especially knowing that my family has sacrificed a lot to keep me safe during the pandemic. I know everyone was at risk to some degree, but not as much as I am with my limited lung capacity. That has really brought back these negative feelings in a way that I don’t usually dwell on. This song became my unofficial anthem of the year.

Meal deliveries and supporting small businesses. I think the past year has been harder on my mom than anyone else in my family. Getting meals delivered on days when she was especially tired was a lifesaver. It also helped us support local businesses. And as much as I love the convenience of Amazon, this past year was the year I really took a close look at how important local businesses are to a sense of community. 

So what have you learned to appreciate more or what lessons have you learned this past year?
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