Staring At Empty Pages

I was staring at an empty page. WTF?
I text the only person I knew would understand why I was incredulous when my whole page went blank.
He is the only friend who ever asked me when I was going to start writing, again? I was taken aback from this question. He was the only person to have asked since I last blogged.
I blamed it was because I moved on with writing, when I moved on from where I was writing from.
There's a lot of truth in that. I never got my blog groove back when I left Pennsylvania. I blamed the weird set-up we had our desktop on. My old desk was sold. We took over a huge executive style desk my mother-in-law gave us. I appreciated it's size and aesthetic. It is real wood. It has huge drawers. It has all the proper openings and pull outs for a keyboard and large screen computer. It only fits in one spot of our living arrangements. For some impossible reason, the vibe is off. We have been here over seven years. I hate sitting at that desk. I longed for my writing nook that I had set up in my home in PA. I used to laugh at the notion Feng Shuei was a serious thing. When I moved here, I could not find my "nook" I guess Shoe Man was on to something when I came home one day, to all of my furniture moved for a "better" energy.
We did have several laptops over the years. We managed to kill them way too quick.
It wasn't supposed to be a permanent arrangement when we moved in with my mother-in-law. After the sale of my home I decided it was easier to start fixing up her home and make it more a style we could both live with.
When I started my own salon business, my smart phone became magic. I could store every single one of my clients info. I didn't even have to call them anymore. Pre-scheduled confirmation texts could be sent. Pre-written text answers could be sent while I worked. All transactions could be done wireless. I lamented how much easier life is with a phone. Except long written emails and Blogger's drafting page. My eyesight grew older and my frozen thumb joints, more painful, from years of arthritis. It made blogging on a smart phone, an impossible thought.

It's been a year and a half since I broke my arm. A simple fall landed me a broken radius. Easily repaired with a titanium plate and countless screws. The surgery went perfect. Even though the break was right above my wrist, I still had good finger movement with very little pain. I stayed in a hard cast for six weeks. Since I had saved enough money for this financial possibility, I actually enjoyed the rest of the summer.
 My salon business was doing so well, I did the right thing. I had three months of every living expense needed,saved. It was so responsible and adult of me.
What I didn't count on was the fact that when my cast came off, I felt pain that was off the scales. It was a huge surprise to not only myself but to my orthopedic surgeon.
 I didn't cry when I broke my arm. I didn't cry in the emergency room when they took a huge needle and injected a numbing agent, directly in to the two sides of the broken radius. The doctor in the ER even commented on my pain tolerance. I suffered from migraines all my life. I even broke my tailbone when a carriage horse ran me over. A broken arm? Piece of cake. So why was I crying and in agony when that cast came off? I still don't know the answer. It's been over a year. A whirlwind of every kind of doctor you can name. I was even willing to concede that neurological pain is completely psychological. What I was really unprepared for was the pain throughout my whole body. I felt like I was hit with the worst flu and someone poured battery acid in to the opposite side of my wrist from where my titanium plate lies. The plate didn't hurt at all. Any possible infection or rejection was ruled out. I'm still convinced I must have a bone chip floating in there. The pain will hit and travel all the way to my jawbone. Test after test has been run. They finally diagnosed me with peripheral nerve pain along with Ankylosing Spondylitis. My rheumatologist and neurologist cant agree on Ehler's Danlos. I'm siding with not having it. I'm discovering a new phenomenon with doctors. They run a DNA test. I didn't really think about it. Part was from being in a fog from pain and medications. The other part of me knew everyone and their mother was doing those ancestry kits. What I didn't count on is that the results would show a lot of genetic possibilities. Doctors may find this helpful. No one scheduled genetic counseling with me. My neurologist ordered the test and handed me a print out. His physicians assistant tried to go over the results with me. Apparently a couple are super rare and made even weirder is both parents carried the genes. It doesn't mean you will get any of what was passed on. It just showed that these results may explain some of my weird symptoms.  So, not only were my parents incompatible personality-wise. They were not a good breeding match.
 It also crushed my dream that neither of them were my real parents. In my dreams I was switched at the hospital and my real parents were filthy rich and passing on a tremendous Trust Fund to me. I left the office muttering about stupid DNA and technology.

 For the first time since I left my old boss from Pennsylvania, his voice stopped reverberating through my head.
"If you move to Nevada, you may as well flush your career down the shitter"
Joe, was a classy guy.
No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, everything kept pointing to moving. After traveling to the west coast, to meet my husband's family, my mind kept thinking of how much easier life could be.
My aunt Jan was gone, my horses were all gone, I hated work. I hated the weather. I hated commuting in an area that was developing so quickly, I barely recognized my own neighborhood. I was hating my neighbors. The list kept growing. When my HOA fined me for the millionth time about Desmond being off leash followed by a newer neighbor's constant fighting his grandmother, I wanted out. I found a realtor to handle renting my house, I made several arrangements for care of both parents and never looked back.
I cant really say that. It wasn't until both of my parents passed away,and I finally sold my house that I fully let go of Pennsylvania. That was when I became a self employed, hairstylist. I could make the same amount of money in one day that I had made in a week, at Joe's. What Joe didn't count on was that I worked for a year with a female boss. She managed to drive every antiquated, misogynistic logic my former boss drove in to my head, for 26 years. I closed the toilet seat he put in to my brain and blew my career forward.

So, why blog after all these years?
A friend of my husband was taking a month or more, overseas. He didn't want to bring his laptop. He offered it for me to use. It has a touch screen which sometimes works better for the endless tremor I developed. the larger keyboard works with my battered thumbs. The laptop allows me to tape my broken wrist tightly and not slam in to a desktop. Plus, I have time. My hands hurt like hell. I type slow and use voice translate a lot. That's hilarious with a Philly dialect.
Ramblings.
Its been a long time. But I found a sweet spot. In spite of pain and financial failure, I found a good place in my head.
I'll just leave this blog here and quit while I'm ahead.
It is nothing like the original blog I accidentally threw out in to cyberspace. You will have to just take my word for it that It had a meaning and a purpose.
 The one lesson I learned in all of my years with horses~if you get tossed off? Get right back on before you think of every  reason you shouldn't.
Fingers crossed, there is no empty pages when I hit publish.


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