Luck Fupus

A lupus blog…

HAWMC #3

Hello my loves.

I’m skipping Day 2 of the HAWMC. Why? Because I do what I want.

Today’s prompt:14925404_10154653525289254_6473535295589605253_n

I could have chosen from one of a million quotes/song lyrics that have meaning to me, but it made sense to go with the one that is permanently inked on my body.

I’ve been dealt a few shitty hands in life. Hell, one may argue that the entire deck is defective.

Hashtag Real Talk.

I don’t remember exactly where I was or what I was doing when I stumbled upon this quote by Maya Angelou; I remember the way it struck my soul, similar to when I hear a beautiful piece of music and it moves me tears. It resonated within me.


mission

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor and some style.”

As I write this, I sit in my favorite Starbucks, watching a funeral procession drive down Main Street. Call me morbid, but when I see a funeral procession I can’t help but wonder about the deceased’s life. Was he or she a child, or were they in their late 80’s and lived a fulfilling life surrounded by family and friends? Did they sail through life on a magic carpet, or did it appear that the tough was constantly going? And if it was the latter, how did they handle the adversity?

When I first read the quote by Ms. Angelou I was in an extremely dark time of my life. I felt everything I worked extraordinarily hard for had burned down all around me, and I was sitting atop the rubble; deserted by some of the most important people in my life, and left to clean up the pieces alone.

I recall having that a-ha, snap out of it woman moment. Clarity, if you will.

In my twenty-nine thirty-five years I’ve survived a ton. Congenital heart disease. Open-heart surgeries. An abusive relationship in my late teens/early twenties. Lupus. Cancer.

Eh, nothing major.

And on that day, I still hadn’t gotten at my sickest with lupus, nor did I know a double mastectomy was in my future. For as long as I can remember, I’ve never hid my bad-assery. Do you know how I know this? I lifted up my dress to show off my zipper (open-heart surgery scar) for the entire synagogue congregation when I was 3.

Oh you didn’t know I’m a superhero?

<lifts up dress and shows off kick ass scar>

Well, you do now bitches.

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