On Friday, after an early viewing of The Dark Knight (have I ever told you I'm a HUGE Batman fan?), my mom and I went out for lunch. It was one of the few times I had funds enough to pay for lunch, and I was feeling a bit better (though later, I crashed hard), so we gabbed over salads.

I got to telling her of my frustration, my absolute fury over being sick for so long. "I have no energy," I told her. "I go to work, then sleep. I haven't even had time to work on my art."

We'd been talking about how my copy of Altered Couture should be coming soon, my contributor's copy, and about my new workshop, and the 'zine. She was telling me how proud she was and I was brushing it off, as I do.

And then she said, "Your art comes first."

I was so happy, I could have cried.

Her declaration came as a surprise -- I work a part-time, minimum-wage job to make ends meet. I can't pay my bills. I irresponsibly don't have health insurance when I have a physical disability. At 24, I still live at home. But I spend my time playing in my journal, drawing, painting, sewing odd stuff -- I create my art. It makes me happy. But there's a little part of me...okay, a BIG part, that thinks me a failure for having a college degree and not doing what I 'should.' Like making more money, or giving up on this flight of fancy to work full time.

But hearing her say that -- to have her recognize my joy and reorder things from my perspective -- I feel lighter. Braver. I want to write more and create more!

If only I could get better....I am SO ANGRY at my body...my new medicine is making me sick, so I've gone from no energy to energy and sick. But I'll get there - I HAVE to!