I’ve always been both terrified and in awe of the ocean. It’s a place that has given me moments of overpowering peace but also left me feeling submerged in turmoil. Recently, during a drama therapy session, I was asked to create and later embody an image that represented my life since childhood. Almost instinctively, I found myself picturing an ocean. There I was, in the middle of it, with only my head above water, barely breathing, utterly terrified. I was trying to keep the sharks and sea monsters at bay, not making a sound, and learning coping mechanisms that would help me survive. It was an image of struggle, of survival, and it resonated deeply because that’s what much of my life has felt like.

Living in this state for so long eventually led to a diagnosis of fibromyalgia, a condition that has been both crippling and transformative. It’s been a challenging journey, but one that has taught me more than I could have imagined. And though I’m still learning and navigating my way through it, I know it’s still defining me in ways I never expected.

If you ask me what brings me joy, I’ll admit I’m still figuring it out. But recently, thanks to a dear friend, I’ve discovered the simple yet intense joy of singing. I’d also add baking and cooking to that list, activities that allow me to create, nourish, and dive into moments of comfort.

Every day, for me, is a step forward, some days, I do go backwards but I haven’t given up yet. And while the ocean remains quite vast and sometimes pretty ruthless and daunting, I’m learning to find my calm and joy within its stormy waves.