Answers

I'm going to be pretty real here, but I hope you will bear with me, because I have learned a lot in the last few days, and I want to share the whole thing.

So I had been making some good progress. Finding ways to enjoy food again, coping well, forgetting this was even a problem anymore. It WASN'T a problem anymore. I was doing great!

Then, all of a sudden, everything stopped. The advances in taste I had made came to a halt. Everything started tasting like it was the same thing again. The “smell” started to be something awful and rank again, and everything tasted like it. Chocolate started being unsatisfying and almost disgusting. Even my blessed hot chocolate was making my stomach curl a bit.

I started eating anything and everything I could, desperate to taste something, anything. Salty food was gross. Sweet food just tasted like a muted version of the “smell”. Spicy food tasted more like salty food than anything else. Meaty food was okay, not great. All I had was knowing when something was hot, because that, too, had a distinct smell/taste of sorts. But that wasn’t enough. I wasn’t satisfied anymore.

Things I ate would give me headaches, and the taste would linger so that everything tasted that way. It was horrible and miserable, I couldn’t do anything about it.

I went to a doctor here to establish as a new patient [mostly for future reference if I needed one], and told her the entire story. She decided that, since I had two head injuries, one of which was definitely from fainting and the other [aka THIS ONE] could have been, she wanted to do a cardiac work-up. So we got an EKG that day, and I scheduled appointments for an echocardiogram and a carotid Doppler. And also another head CT, as it had been over 6 months since the last one.

She said that if everything came back okay, we could close this case.

But this case would never be closed for me. So long as I couldn’t smell, it would always be open.

Testing was simple enough, and I had results within a few hours. Or, rather, I had responses from my doctor within hours. Simple one line responses. Identical except for the test. “Your [test] results were normal.”

Normal? What did normal mean? Were they without injury or problems? Were they unchanged from the last ones? What in the world was normal? I wasn’t normal, I was still having problems!

But there wasn’t anything I could do. It was my body and no one could see anything wrong with it.

So…this was normal. Now.

This was the new normal. I’d claimed it for a while for others, but now it was real. Now it was for me.

Normal.

It wasn’t until early October that a new realization hit me: I was bitter. I was upset that some of my favorite things [food and good smelling things] were now basically not there. 

I was bitter that I had a problem that no one knew how to deal with. No one really knew what to say or what to do. There was no one with experience to help or understand or console. There wasn't even a website for how to live with anosmia. I was in uncharted territory, swimming by myself, and I was exhausted.

10 months of living without smell and I still had no idea how to do this.

Did it affect my every day life? Yes.

Did I think about it all the time? No.

It had become normal. And I was bitter about that.
And I was ashamed of myself.

I knew one thing and one thing only: God did this on purpose. To me. On purpose. And God does not do things just for kicks. There was a reason, very specific and very important, as to why I, who had enjoyed and passionately loved all things smelling for 28 years, should suddenly have that taken away.

And my being bitter was ruining that. It was keeping me from seeing the big picture, and letting God work in me. Through me. With me.

My one consolation was that I never actually shook my fists at the heavens. Have I trusted Him the way I ought to? No. But I don’t think I understood what real trust was. I think I expected this to be a short test and then I would get a pat on the back saying “Good job, kiddo. That was tough. Have it back now.” I had an inkling, however hard I tried to ignore it, that that wasn’t what was going to happen.

And I was right.

My doctor referred me to an ENT specialist who worked in one of the few Taste and Smell clinics in the country. I saw him fairly quickly, brought all of the information from my previous doctors, and was ready for answers.

The first thing I did was a scratch and sniff test developed by the University of Philadelphia, the premiere Smell and Taste Center in the nation. I was relieved to see this stupid little test. Every bit of research I had done started with this test. FINALLY it was my turn.
And then I took it. And it was awful. I had to mark an answer for each question, and everything smelled the same. There were some that I thought I smelled a little different, so they had to be strong scents. I marked whatever the strongest scent was.

I half expected them to come in after and say, “Uh, you got them all right. Nothing is wrong with you. Go home.”

But I knew that was highly unlikely.

Sure enough, the doctor came in and said, “How did that test go?”

“Honestly, I guessed a lot.”

“Yeah…. The scores showed that.”

I smiled a little and laughed. He didn’t.

He asked me to tell him what happened, so I went through the entire story yet again. He asked me just a couple of questions every now and then, the location of my brain injury, what my “smell” smelled like, and how taste was. I answered his questions, and he said, “Let’s take a look.”

He checked my ears, my mouth and throat, my nostrils…then he said, “I want to get a better look in your nose. So I’m going to spray a nasal decongestant and numbing solution up there, let it sit, and then I’ll be back to take a look.”

So he sprayed me, left, and I sat there, waiting. I’m not sure what the mixture was, but it had a distinctly minty aftertaste, as evidenced by the minty flavor dripping down the back of my throat.

And then I saw what was going to be going in my nostrils.

It was massive.

Good thing I was numb, right?

I wanted answers, right?

The doctor came back in and tilted my chair back, then started with the probe thing with a light on the end. Left nostril first, bit of pressure, then he said, “Huh. That’s a little crooked.”

Crooked? Say wha?

He moved onto the right, and that one really hurt. I would swear he was scrambling brain tissue while he was up there. Then he pulled it out, put it away, and said he wished he could see my MRI.

“I brought it with me!” I said excitedly, hopping down from the chair and grabbing it, even while my nostrils felt suspiciously unclogged and clear.

He took it out into the hallway to the nurse, and said he’d be right back.

I heard the bad news from the hallway before he had to tell me.

“I can’t get this to pull up. It says I need to install a program or something. I can’t open it.”

Are you KIDDING? I was supposed to get answers today! The specialist wanted to see my MRI, I brought my MRI! This was supposed to work!

He came back in and said he couldn’t pull it up. Then he said, “Well, you hit your head pretty good.”

Uh, you think?

“Generally, the rule for head injuries is if it doesn’t come back in 6 months, it won’t. That’s not always the case. There have been cases recorded of it coming back a year or more later. That being said… Will you get it back? Probably not.”

I expected that. I did. But it still was a crushing blow to my chest.

“Okay,” I managed to say. “Did you…want me to bring in another copy of the MRI to see? I have another.”

He gave me what I can only call a pitying look. “I don’t think it will make that much of a difference.”

And that was it. As I left the nurse asked if he wanted to see me again, and he didn’t look up from his computer. “Only if something changes.”

I was in a bit of a fog as I walked to the elevator. This nice couple got in with me and she was using hand sanitizer, and offered me some. I took it and she apologized that it was peony scented, but it was better than nothing, right?

She was expecting an answer. So I gave her one. I smiled and said, “Well, I’ve lost my sense of smell, so that’s just fine.”

She smiled back and her husband said, “I wish I couldn’t smell it.”

And it was really funny.

That was good, right?

I went to see a movie right after, something uplifting and fun, so I wouldn’t have to think about it. It helped, and then I went home and cried that night.

The next day I got up and went about my day. Same as I had been doing.

What was the point of moping? I was used to this now. And it wasn’t going to change.

Did it hurt? Yeah. And I still didn’t have answers about what exactly happened to me. At this point, I probably never would.

Could I live with that?

Could I keep doing this day after day?

Well……yeah.

That’s what I’d been doing.

I had done all that I could to find the truth, to find answers, to see if there was any way this could be fixed or put a timeline on it, anything. I had completed all the tests. Seen all the doctors I needed to, some of them quite miraculously. Now it was time to let go.

Letting go takes a long time. Trust takes a long time. Lucky for me, it looks like I have a long time. And if God will be patient with me, I’ll get the hang of this.

I won’t mind the shifting of flavors I’ve gotten used to. I’ll find foods that satisfy me. I’ll stop being surprised by my anosmia. It won't matter anymore. I’ll see this as a gift, as one of my friends suggested the other day. I’ll find a way to turn this weakness into a strength.

This was given to me for a reason. This is essential for my growth and development as a person, as a child of God. I need to have this problem that very few people understand, that there aren't answers for, that leaves me confused and frustrated and sometimes starving. I need this very specific and detailed experience just as it is playing out. I need this in my life. I might not know why for a very long time.

Just like I don’t have answers for my anosmia, I don’t have answers for life, for the “why” or the “how long” or the “what am I supposed to learn from this”. All I have is the reassurance that He knows those things. And that I need to trust Him.

Am I okay with that?

Can I live with that?

Well….yes.

So that’s that, isn’t it?

“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. … All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable. … It is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire." -- Orson F. Whitney

Stories of Smell

The last couple of days I have had some notable experiences with smell. Meaning the lack of smell. I didn't really have much a problem with my anosmia this summer, mostly because I was always with other people and eating things that were familiar for the time. I didn't have a need to smell anything, really.
Living alone changes things.
I'm going to ramble a little bit. Things that are fascinating to me, a little sad, and some that just make me shake my head.
I recently bought a crockpot. I figured that living alone and being busy was a dangerous combination for me, as fast food would be an easy and convenient option. But I have no desire to blow up like a balloon, or to get in unhealthy habits. [Sidebar: this is not to say that I have healthy habits now... I mean, come on, I just finished eating a donut...] So the first thing I did with my first paycheck is buy a crockpot. I've been exploring with that a little bit. And I realized something. If I don't pay attention, I could leave that thing going all day and could very easily destroy what I am trying to make. I don't have that sense of smell to remind me that something is cooking. And being new to crockpot cooking anyway, I was fairly nervous. So the first time I used it, I was at home the entire time so I could baby-sit my crockpot. I know, it defeats the purpose of a crockpot, but it was scary. Then yesterday I decided to let my crockpot grow up. I let it cook while I was gone at church. I may have called my mom before I left so she could reassure me I wasn't about to burn down my house or ruin the food I'd spent my hard earned money on, but I did it. Jury is still out on the food itself, because I made it to freeze it. I'll let you know.
I made cookies the other day. It didn't go so well. Don't get me wrong, they turned out fine. Not as good as I wanted, but very much yummy. New oven + anosmia = nerve-wracking. My oven timer was getting a workout that day. Checking and rechecking, resetting the timer every time... See, I'm one of those people who forgets they have laundry in unless they have that annoying buzzer to tell them. Not usually a problem with cooking because you can smell it, right? WRONG. So I rely on my timers to save me, and my oven, and my cookies.
I went into my bathroom to blow dry my hair yesterday and I couldn't get the darn ting to turn on. I hit the reset button on the blowdryer, and nothing. I switched it from the bottom outlet to the top, nothing. I was a little frustrated, thinking I had just broken a hair dryer. But the outlet HAD to work, because the wallflower plug-in I had was there, and.... I had no idea if that was working. I stared at that thing for a long time. How do you know the plug-ins work? You smell it. I chewed on my lip for a moment, then hit the reset button on the actual outlet. Voila, my hairdryer worked. I shook my head at myself. How long had my wallflower not been working and I had no idea? Not that it really matters, I can't smell it anyway. Why do I even have it, then? Because I used to love wallflowers. And I have a surefire knowledge that, if nothing else, my bathroom smells awesome. For when I have visitors.
I was at work the other day and someone was sharing a story about a person who smelled lie old smoke. You know, that lingering, old, almost awkward smell that means they are a long-time smoker? We all know it. But apparently, this person was a very strong smell and the entire room still smelled like it. I looked at her and said, "Really? It does?" And she looked at me for half a second in surprise, then laughed. "Oh my gosh, you wouldn't even know that, would you?" Then she offered to let me know if something ever smelled so I could make the appropriate faces with everyone else. It was nice to laugh about, instead of feeling awkward. We're making progress.
Just a bit of story time for you, as I learn things again. Hopefully it's interesting for you!
High: One of my crockpot meals, the one I babysat? So good. New favorite. It's made with Italian dressing, so I can actually pick up some of the flavor.
Low: I just had chocolate milk [to go with my donuts] and it was disgusting. I think I might cry.
High: I'm paying a lot more attention to the lotions and perfume i wear. I have to think of what fragrances would go well together. It's second nature to a normal smeller, you can tell right away what will work and what won't. But for me? Not so easy. But I like having to pay attention. I learn a lot! Imagine pairing amber with cherry! Blegh...
Smell some flowers for me today. I miss those.

Goings On and On

I know it’s been a while, and I don’t know if anybody actually reads this, but I thought an update was in order.

I was told that my symptoms might get worse with stress, so I was expecting to have an interesting time of it this summer. Between graduating, moving, hopefully starting a new job and settling in somewhere, I had just about all the expected major changes one has in a life within a few months. All I could do was pray that somehow I would have the strength and capacity to do that.

Graduation came and went without a hitch, and I felt like I blinked and suddenly I was an alumni with a master’s degree. Two years were done just like that. Amazing how that works.

I worked for a bit longer, applying for whatever jobs I found interesting anywhere in the country. And nothing. That was frustrating, but it was okay. I moved back home and spent a lot of time with my family, somehow managing to fit all of my things in the house.

Then I miraculously got a job, one I never expected to exist, and I took it. Then I moved, started work, and got settled in, and now here I am.

I’ve done it, for the most part. Settling takes time. But nothing was worse. Not a thing. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for normalcy, for nothing. Yet here I sit, grateful that everything feels normal.

But I need to define normal: I still can’t smell.

And that’s normal now.

Taste has really made up for lost time. I have had all sorts of adventures there, and they are all part of my common, every day life now. Nothing tastes like it used to, and that is normal now as well. But I am tasting more, picking up more, and I’ve stopped looking for what is missing and try to focus on what is there. It’s rare for me to be disappointed that I can’t taste something anymore, because I now EXPECT not to taste anything. Not in a negative way, I’m not depressed every time I lift a fork to my mouth. That would be a waste of time, food, and life.

I only mean that, again, nothing has become NORMAL. So when I taste something when I don’t expect to, I get a jolt of pleasure. And it would be silly to talk about it,  because how do you explain that you can taste something in the marinara sauce, but you don’t taste the marinara sauce?

Something strange has been happening lately. I derive pleasure from food again. Not like I used to, but I’ve stopped comparing now to then.

For example, I was eating at a friend’s house the other day and they were having an Italian dish. Now, I knew from experience that there was something about Italian food that I could pick up more than others, so I expected to taste something. But what I hadn’t expected was for it to taste GOOD. Food had been BLAH for so long that I had grown used to it. I’d started resenting food for a while, which was silly and stupid, but I’m human. I know I was frustrating to live with because I was regularly asked what I wanted to eat and my usual response was “I don’t know” followed by “It doesn’t matter.” I wasn’t TRYING to be difficult, I was being truthful. But not helpful.

But this…this was different. I couldn’t tell you what was so amazing about this food, but I loved it. I wanted more of it. It was so good. And I am drawing out those words very dramatically.

And then there was another night with another friend where we had a bowl of curry that was one of the most colorful bowls I have ever seen. And if I was blindfolded, I would not have been able to tell you what I was eating. But it was warm. Not just in temperature, but in flavor. I had expected, from previous experience with this family’s style of cooking, that spices were going to be in abundance, and if I could feel my tongue by the end, I was fortunate. And that would not have been good for me, as I kind of need mine for any sort of food processing. But this food was warm in spice and in flavor, the kind that warms your body and soul from the inside out. And I loved it. I wanted more, except I was so full I knew full well I COULDN’T have more. But taste-wise, I wanted more.

Now I’m not sure what’s in store for the future. I can’t smell any better than I could right after this happened, as evidenced by the fact that I cooked two packages of bacon without even once having the desire to taste it and my stomach never once growled. So unnatural, but there it was. And I had no idea that the break room at work smelled like caramel. Or that one of the apartment complexes I visited during hunting smelled funny. And I never got that singular headache that told me someone was eating licorice when my fellow orienteers broke that out.

But if food can start being fun again? That would be awesome. I’m not naïve enough to think that every food I eat will be suddenly amazing again. I had stuffing tonight, one of my all-time favorite comfort foods, and while the texture was familiar, the token taste was missing. I still ate it, and I was still comforted. Was I disappointed? Sure. But nothing a shoulder shrug and another helping wouldn’t fix.

Hot chocolate still tastes funny. But I drink it.

Sandwiches are still awkward if they aren’t hot. But I eat them.

Garlic butter with Papa John’s pizza doesn’t add very much any more, multi-flavored ice cream is boring, toothpaste is just plain weird, and salsa is just a mass of spiciness.

But I can taste the difference between processed salsa and fresh salsa. I like Italian food way more than I used to. The colorful spectacle of that curry was just as enjoyable as its delicious flavors were, whatever they were. Ice cream with chocolate bits is still better than ice cream without it. Hint of Lime tortilla chips are still better than regular ones.

I might not be able to smell, but no one can say that I don’t appreciate taste more than I used to.

I still struggle with knowing what to say after a meal. Most of the time, I won’t know if something is good or not. Was it satisfying? Sort of. Was it enough? Probably. Was it good? Umm….I THINK so? Honestly, I could eat pretty much anything and be as satisfied as I ever get. Like my dinner today: chips and salsa, followed by stuffing, followed by a few handfuls of Strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats. What in the world is that about?  Might as well have been Christmas dinner to me.

I was asked recently if I knew what it was like to just not be satisfied with a meal. This person knew of my condition very well, but like me, they forgot, they didn’t think about it, this was normal. So when I gave her a look, she gave it right back. And then realization dawned. “Oh…yeah…I guess you would.”

Yep. I guess I would.

But there is more than that. Why focus on something so insignificant? Sure, I hoped things would be better by now, but they’re not, so that’s that. Move on, go on, live on. I have no desire to wallow and, honestly, what is there to wallow about? This is normal now, and that’s as it should be.

High: I was able to taste that orange juice was bad recently. I doubted it, so I had someone with full smell/taste abilities to try it, and they confirmed it. Nice to know I have that if I need it. With orange juice, any way. Small victories are still victories.

Low: Moving to a new place had me all sorts of worried about not being able to smell. Those fears I talked about before, with smoke and gas and the like, all haunted my dreams, sometimes rather vividly. It was not a comfortable few days. But I got over it, and I know that I will have the instincts I need when I need them.

High: I had Swedish Fish at a party a few weeks ago. Still love those. Ah, nostalgia, I missed you…

I’ve heard a lot that since I can’t taste as much, I could be healthier without much difficulty. This is true. Except for one thing: it’s me. Doesn’t matter if brownies don’t taste quite the same, I’m still choosing brownies over carrots. Every. Single. Time.

So, hope you’ve liked the updates. Hope you’re still around. Hope you still find the beautiful hidden in every day. 

I’m still here. Still kickin’. Still livin’.

And so are you.

Can You Smell Fear?

I want to talk very briefly about fear. Briefly because I don’t like focusing on fear, it’s such a negative thing and can be very overwhelming if we let it.

But it needs to be talked about.

When I first started this adventure, there was A LOT of fear. Would I EVER smell again? Would food EVER taste normal again? What about flowers and rain and spring and Christmas trees and….. The list went on and on, everything I could possibly think of missing, I missed.

Then I settled in a bit, and things started to be less scary. I got used to things being weird, and weird became normal.

Well, now I don’t even notice the weird. It’s just normal.

Except for when it’s not.

I may never know how much “damage” was done, or what exactly happened, or if the sense I once knew will come back even a little. That was really scary for a while. Now I’ve settled into the mode of “Well, I guess we’ll just make do”.

But I still have some fears.

First let’s talk about the smells that warn us. Smoke, gas, burning rubber, sulfur, etc. Those are important things to smell. I can’t smell those anymore. So what will I do about that? Not sure, but I’ve already had little tiny moments of fear there. The smoke detectors went off the other day and it shocked me because I hadn’t smelled anything burning. Turns out the roomie got a little too excited with her cooking. Nothing bad, it cleared up right away. But I didn’t know. I couldn’t smell it. It got my brain spinning, yet again, about the other dangerous things I couldn’t smell. I’ve thought about it a lot since this happened, and others have brought it up too. Every time, my answer is “I don’t know.” That is a fear I’m not sure how I’ll get over, but I’ll try.

Second, the kitchen. I have become a typical college student again, eating fast and easy and cheap [but not so cheap] meals other people cook. Fast food happens AT LEAST once a week, usually more. Why? Because I’m afraid of cooking. Seems silly, I know, but I’m not going to know if something smells right, and a lot of cooking, for me, was about smell. Or taste. How am I supposed to know if something needs more salt? Which, granted, doesn’t mean much to me right now, but if I was cooking for someone else? I was making brownies the other day, from a box, and I was terrified. I used to know when brownies were almost done by how they smelled. I’d never made this kind before, what if my oven cooked them at a different rate? What if I ruined them? What if I burned them? These were for a church activity, they HAD to be good. Thankfully, one of my roommates was home and I peeked in her room and asked her to tell me if anything started smelling one way or the other. I THINK they turned out okay? I’d say they tasted fine, but I’m not exactly a good judge of that anymore. They were too gooey, but some people like those. Oh well.

Third, favorites. I have found my realm of “comfort food” like this, and it doesn’t extend very far. I eat the same things all the time. Why? Because I’m afraid that the foods I used to love will disappoint me. I don’t want Five Guys burgers and fries to taste like the new normal. I don’t want my favorite cereal to taste like cardboard. I don’t want Mom’s chocolate chip cookies to be reduced to the same flavor as four day old oatmeal raisin cookies from the store. And at this moment, I may never eat one of my mom’s cinnamon rolls again, because losing that would be a tragedy. I’m not necessarily going out of my way to avoid these things, but I don’t exactly put forth effort there either. I’m afraid if I try them again, like this, I’ll forget how they used to taste. It’s happening with other foods, and I’m not ready for that yet.

Fourth, people. Not actual people, I don’t really miss smelling all y’all [no offense] but like public settings. I haven’t quite figured out how to handle that yet. I never noticed how often we comment on smell. One of my students the other day asked “What smells?” And without thinking, I asked, “I dunno, what does?” She was so embarrassed and flustered, and it took me a second to understand why. Then I was apologizing and she was apologizing, and it was a really awkward situation. I hadn’t meant for it to be, I honestly forgot that I couldn’t smell, so I didn’t know what she was talking about. I didn’t know something smelled. Or when someone makes the comment about how great something smells and looks to me to reciprocate. My first response is usually “I bet it does”, or if I’m feeling funny “Does it?” But those backfire too. People are always apologizing for forgetting that I can’t smell. It’s fine, I forget too. I don’t get offended by people asking me if something smells weird or good or asking me to taste something and then forgetting that I can’t taste like I used to. It doesn’t bother me, and I’d like to joke about it. I try, but it just makes people uncomfortable. We were trying to decide on places to go for lunch, and that was usually where I’d jump in and voice an opinion, so everyone looked at me. I smiled and said, “Guys, I am not the person to ask about restaurants these days, so pick a place, and I will go and eat whatever they have.” I thought that might have worked. It didn’t. I don’t know if the problem is me or that people just don’t know how to respond. But it’s making me self-conscious. I don’t want this to be a sign I have to wear around my neck. I don’t want to be the downer.

Fears are annoying. I know that, I get irritated by them myself. I’ll feel all brave about trying something and then back out at the last second. I have no problem trying things I’ve never had before because they can taste like whatever I want. I don’t miss smelling bathrooms or sweaty athletes. I don’t miss craving things, because honestly, how maddening is that? Especially when you can’t have it! Drives people crazy. Sure, sometimes I get in the mood for something, but I’ve learned how to deal with that. I’ve actually learned a lot.

Still learning. Every day.

But this isn’t so new anymore, so I’m not noticing as much as I used to.

Someone asked me today if I was getting better, and I didn’t know what to say. I knew what they meant, which was “Is your taste better?” or “Is your smell better?” and the answer to that is, sadly, “No” right now. I’ve tried and tested a lot, and it’s just not.

But AM I getting better? And the answer to that is a resounding YES. There are way too many facets of that answer to go into on here, and some things that are way too personal for a public blog, but the change in the last few weeks has been amazing.

I have fears. I just told you about them, and I’m sure as soon as I post this, I’ll think of more.

But I’m not afraid anymore.

The future doesn’t hold scary things for me anymore. The worst case scenario is not looming over my head. I don’t feel weighed down by what I can’t do anymore, I’m not worried about the “what if” and “maybe never” stuff.

And that is pretty dang freeing.

Little fears come and go, and I have no doubt I’ll be making adjustments for quite a while as I figure out life like this. But it’s a life. I’m living. Moving forward.

To wherever this path takes me.

And it’s not scary.

It’s exciting.

It’s an adventure.

High: I really love ice cream. Doesn’t matter that it doesn’t taste quite like it used to, I still love it, and it’s still comforting, and it still makes my night better when I have it.

Low: Skyline chili. Oh, it breaks my heart. One of my sweet girls is from Cincinnati and went home for Easter and brought me back some. I tried SO SO SO hard to get a hint of something from it. Nothing. Ugh. Moment of silence……….

High: It’s spring and it’s pretty and beautiful and the colors are so fresh and bright, and the air feels like spring. Easter was glorious and the world is gorgeous. And I can imagine it to smell like whatever I want. And today it smells like hyacinths.

Let go of fear. It’s not worth the effort. You might not be brave, and that’s fine. But don’t be afraid.