What the Hail, September?

I do not know who has been writing the plot for the last few weeks of my life, but I would like to speak to management. I feel like I have lived approximately six months since the end of August, and every time I think life is about to settle down, something else shows up like, “Surprise, girl.” So naturally, I say “what the hail” and keep moving. Health has definitely been a big part of the chaos lately. I had already been dealing with a rough stretch hormonally that had me tired, emotional, uncomfortable, and just plain over it. I finally had an appointment where I actually felt heard, and that alone felt like a small miracle. We talked through some medicine options, getting my stomach issues under better control, and what future treatment could look like if we need to go further. I left feeling hopeful, which was a nice change from leaving a doctor’s office feeling like I needed another doctor’s appointment just to recover from the first one.

: Coastal-themed graphic with a beach background, teal tumbler, sunglasses, seashells, and a straw hat. Center text reads, “What the Hail Is Going On Around Here? The past few weeks have been a lot, y’all. Sassy Frass with Class.”

Then, because apparently my body does not believe in one issue at a time, the nerve pain showed up. Sunday morning, I got up planning to get dressed for church, went to grab orange juice out of the refrigerator, and my body basically said, “No ma’am.” The nerve pain got so bad that I could barely function normally for a few days. Sitting up was difficult. Sleeping was difficult. Eating was not going great either. I was taking muscle relaxers, which helped with the pain but also made my stomach way too relaxed, so food and I were not exactly on speaking terms for a minute. Nothing says glamorous like lying around trying to decide whether eating real food is worth the risk. Very Sassy Frass. Very classy. Very much not how I planned to spend my week.

The hardest part for me was being forced to stop. My brain was still making lists. Emails still existed. Graphics still needed making. People were still asking for things. I had playbills to finish. I had work sitting there looking at me. And my body did not care. At all. Apparently the nervous system does not accept calendar invites. Thankfully, I finally started improving. The nerve pain backed off enough that I could sit up, eat some real food, and function like a semi-respectable human being again. I am still trying to take it easy, because my natural response to feeling 20 percent better is apparently to immediately attempt 100 percent of my life. This is not wisdom. This is me. I am learning. Slowly. Very slowly.

The good thing is that I am finally starting to feel more like myself again. I am eating better. I am getting some energy back. I can work without feeling like my body is personally offended by the idea. I am still pacing myself, but at least I am moving in the right direction. And while my body was doing all of that, work was apparently thriving out of spite. One contract ended, I walked away from another situation that was asking way too much of my time for what they were paying me, and almost immediately another opportunity that had been sitting on the back burner came back around. My two steady contracts are still going, I have another larger possibility in the works, and I have been developing ideas for a monthly virtual social group with crafts, conversation, food activities, and all the wonderfully random things that happen when I am allowed to turn an idea into a whole project. I am still creating social media, working on voting outreach, making flyers, planning advocacy content, helping with Disability Voting Rights Week, and somehow convincing myself every morning that yes, I absolutely have room for one more Canva design. At this point, my high school graphic design class deserves royalties because it is one of the very few classes I use almost every single day of my adult life.

At some point in the middle of all this, Saltwater Theatre hired me to help with social media and playbills. Because obviously what I needed during a health flare was another project. But honestly, I am excited about it. I already spend a lot of time there anyway, so I have basically figured out how to turn one of my favorite places into part of my work life. That is either brilliant or evidence that I need supervision. Probably both.

And then there was Dolly Parton. That one hit me differently. Dolly has always felt like more than just a celebrity to me. She represented so many things I love. Southern. Funny. Sparkly. Strong. Faithful. Generous. Completely herself. She understood that you could wear rhinestones and still have substance. You could be funny and wise. Soft and strong. Faithful and fabulous. You could work hard, love people well, laugh at yourself, and still show up looking like you had somewhere important to be. Honestly, that is a pretty solid life philosophy. So when Dolly went to Heaven, it felt like losing one of those people who had just always been there in the background of life. Her music, her humor, her personality, her generosity, her faith. She was one of those people who could make you laugh and then turn around and say something that stayed with you.

 Coastal Dolly Parton inspired graphic with seashells, a straw hat, a sparkly butterfly, and soft pink and teal accents. Center text reads, “Southern. Funny. Sparkly. Strong. Faithful. Generous. Thinking about Dolly Parton. Sassy Frass with Class.”

And underneath all of that has been the personal stuff. The kind that does not fit neatly onto a to-do list. Relationships changing. Realizing that caring deeply about somebody does not mean accepting whatever version of a relationship they are willing to hand you. Realizing that my health, my disability, my transportation realities, my responsibilities, and my boundaries are not inconveniences that I need to apologize for. I cannot just pick up and go whenever somebody else gets an idea. My life requires planning. My body requires consideration. My heart requires consistency. And lately I have had to remind myself that wanting those things does not make me difficult. It means I finally know what I need.

I think that is part of what these last few weeks have made me think about. What really matters. Who gets my energy. What deserves my time. What I need to stop apologizing for. My health has reminded me that I cannot force my body to cooperate just because I have plans. Work has reminded me that my time has value. Relationships have reminded me that consideration should go both ways. And life in general has reminded me that I do not need to explain myself into the ground every single time I say no. I cannot always pick up and go. I cannot always change plans at the last minute. I cannot magically turn a bad health day into a good one. And I cannot keep stretching myself thin just so everybody else stays comfortable. That does not make me difficult. It makes me grown. Or at least mostly grown. I am still out here adding projects to my own calendar and then acting shocked when I am busy, so we are not getting carried away.

So yes, the past few weeks have been a lot. I have cried. I have laughed at myself. I have sent emails from bed. I have made graphics when I probably should have been sleeping. I have started new projects while complaining about how many projects I already have. I have questioned my sanity approximately six times before lunch. I have had exciting opportunities land in my lap while my body simultaneously demanded that I stop moving. I have had moments when I felt hopeful and moments when I wanted everybody, including my own nervous system, to kindly leave me alone.

But somewhere inside all of this chaos, I can see something changing. Sometimes a full life looks like advocacy meetings, theatre playbills, unfinished graphics, doctor appointments, church ladies, voter education, new contracts, cancelled plans, nerve pain, big ideas, relationship boundaries, and going back to bed because your body has officially filed a complaint. It is messy. It is exhausting. It is occasionally absolutely ridiculous. And somehow, it is still mine.

 Coastal graphic with a beach background, notebook, pen, seashells, and sea-glass colors. Center text reads, “Apparently the nervous system does not accept calendar invites. Still going. Sassy Frass with Class.”

Right now, I am grateful to be feeling better. I am grateful that I finally got some hopeful answers about my health. I am grateful for work that lets me be creative. I am grateful for people who understand when I need to slow down. I am grateful for the people who make me laugh when I am over everything. And I am grateful that even during weeks that feel like one giant pile of “what the hail,” God is still right there in the middle of it. Would I personally request fewer plot twists for the rest of September? Absolutely. I would like a boring week. A blowout. Maybe a little beach time. No surprise medical drama. No emotional plot twists. And absolutely nobody emailing me with the words “one more quick thing.” But knowing me, I will probably have three new projects by Tuesday. Sassy Frass with Class, y’all. Apparently we do not know how to live any other way.