Up until a few weeks ago, I was in hell.

The past nine years have been rough. I had sudden attacks of nausea with heart palpitations and passing out, brain fog, lack of energy, and abnormal depression and anxiety. Doctors insisted it was “menopause,” “stress,” or “food poisoning.” It was after the COVID shots everything got worse: my hair fell out, I was in constant abdominal pain, and eventually, I couldn’t eat anything except oatmeal. It was all I could do to get out of bed, and, to quote Steven Belanger’s story “Blackstone,” in the Monsters in the Mills collection, “do the damn day.” Food terrified me and social situations became impossible, so I didn’t go anywhere except work. Doctors just kept telling me “I don’t know. More tests a month from now” while I was literally starving to death.

Meanwhile, the world chugged ahead. I felt abandoned, visiting my friends’ social media accounts to see them delight in life, eat things without a second thought, write stories, go places, make plans. In Britt Nicole’s song “The Sun is Rising,” she sings about a person’s hopes for the future burning, and I identified: I was being reduced to ashes and swept aside.

I thought seriously about Swedish Death Cleaning and making my will. Call me a drama queen, but when everyone tells you there’s nothing wrong with you and you know there is, you’re sick as a dog, you can barely function and that starving will eventually kill you? You lose something very important: hope.

As far as my writing, I prioritized the Spring 2024 issue of 34 Orchard, which was released with great success and, if I do say so myself, it’s a stellar issue (get your free copy here: https://34orchard.com/issue-9/). Our Zoom release cocktail hour was an absolute blast, in which I was talking to people in several different countries around the world right in my dining room; my husband’s reception at his Masonic lodge, which I planned, was an amazing day; I was honored to serve on a virtual panel for StokerCon 2024. But everything I had in progress—a short novel for an upcoming call, a screenplay due at the end of June, the finishing up of Tidings, a short story for an anthology that needed an overhaul—all of that was shelved. I couldn’t write a decent sentence if you’d tied me to a chair and forced me; my inner voice was gone. In truth, though, none of it seemed to matter. Most nights, all I had the energy for after a long day of surviving was laying on the couch and watching Netflix. I didn’t talk to too many of my friends, even though I made sure their birthday gifts went out on time. I would look around my messy house and think, oh well, weren’t those parties so glorious? Wasn’t going out and having pizza and spending time with your friends fun? How about all of those awesome vacations—aren’t you lucky you got as many as you did? I’m so glad you took photos, because you’re never going to have that again. Your life is over, be grateful for what you had and what you accomplished. Next.

I had a celestial theme for Nathan’s reception following his welcome. Why? It’s appropriate, but that’s a Masonic thing.

Aren’t these little moons cute? We put them on the tables. The little stone moons were Nathan’s idea.

Believe it or not, almost ALL of this food WENT. We had a lot of hungry mouths! It was an amazing day. I was starving, but I almost felt normal other than that. I almost felt like, ‘hey, I’ve still got it!’

That said, there were some other interesting bright spots, brief magical moments that at least gave me a respite from the overwhelming panic and despair.

The northeast saw a mild earthquake on April 5; I was sitting on the floor in my office, working on some filing, and the whole house shook unnaturally. I won’t lie: that was cool. To actually experience an earthquake. I’m sure if it had been heavily damaging and people had been hurt and lost property, I’d be singing a different tune. I’m glad I’m not.

A minor earthquake hit the Northeast on April 5, 2024. This is the news coverage from the TV in my bedroom.

Then came the eclipse. Here in Danbury, we weren’t in the path of totality, and it fell on a Monday afternoon. I wanted to make a sort of “party” out of it for my coworkers, so I put on the lobby television coverage, my husband Nathan bought packs of (no worries, officially approved) eclipse glasses and came in to join me for the afternoon, I bought themed snacks (that I couldn’t eat, but I took joy in my coworkers really loving the treats instead) and dressed in my best celestial outfit (one of many new dresses I bought to comfort myself these past few months). It was a stellar, magical afternoon, the best part of it the strange light with the long growing shadows. Light during an eclipse, if you’re not in totality, has an eerie quality that just can’t be duplicated.

My new constellation dress and jacket wrap…I’d just gotten it and it was perfect! I will say that crown? OMG not so much. The ends stuck right into my head. If I wear that again I’ll probably have to wrap the metal ends. And look at me, rockin’ those eclipse glasses! Did you know they expire? They do. You shouldn’t use them after three years. So next eclipse? Buy fresh!

I don’t know if you can tell in the photo so much, but the light is that eclipse weird. Like a mild sepia tone.

For the spread at the dayjob, I made a nice sign with info and safety tips.

If it’s one thing I love to do it’s put out cool snacks that go with the “theme.” I got things that were black and white, or like with the linzer tarts, had holes in them. The popcorn was a combo of Kettle and Caramel (light and dark). And how COOL are those Black and White oreos? I enjoyed watching people take delight in looking at the spread and eating.

The severe strange bouts of illness had actually started back in 2017, around the time of the last eclipse. On the day of the 2024 eclipse, I had one thought: this started with that eclipse; perhaps it’ll end with this one.

After that, things started looking up.

On May 17, I took the plunge, overhauled that story and discovered that Yes! I could still write! I was halfway through overhauling it, the editors were pleased with what I was doing (one of them even said, “you’re back!”), and that night, I fell asleep on the couch—only to have Nathan wake me up and say, “Hey, wanna see the Northern Lights?”

Well, hell yes! We went out in the driveway, and there above me were beautiful, undulating swaths of pink and green. It was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen, and I stood there, in my slippers and chemise and hoodie, and thought, I’m gonna be okay.

My friend Maria posted these stunning photos of the eclipse. She lives near me, so this is pretty much what we saw. We just didn’t get any photos.

Today, I’m better for the experience. I was relentless in my quest because dammit, I’m going to get my life back, it’s worth fighting for even if nobody else cares—and eventually we got an answer. It was always part of me; weird physical things that had gone on even in childhood suddenly made sense. I have a better diet (though re-feeding was a whole new level of scary), I’m down thirty-five pounds that will never come back since I can’t eat anything injurious, the belly I’ve struggled with my whole life is gone, I no longer suffer brain fog, lack of energy, and abnormal depression and anxiety. Rejoining the world is still a process, but I’m better equipped to be part of it now than I ever was. For the first time in many years, I’m genuinely excited about the future.

So here’s a thinner me (I’ve lost ten more since this photo for a total now of 35 pounds, and my face is MUCH less puffy now because the inflammation is down) rockin’ a 1970s pantsuit. Even that blouse has an attached lavaliere. Totally 70s.

One of my goals isn’t only to pick up where I left off, but do it smarter and better. To attack areas of my life that I neglected or ignored and get that stuff in order. To place value on things I didn’t before. To do less, but quality less, like reading. To heal broken relationships and, if I’m owed apologies I’ll never get? Figure out a way to get closure without those. Above all, enjoy life more. Have fun but enjoy that fun while it’s here. Be present. Take steps to create a better future, and not just coast along letting it happen to me.

Easier said than done, I’m sure. But dammit, I’m gonna try. Because even though I was in hell, there was an earthquake, an eclipse, and the aurora borealis, and I’m sure there are many other exciting things out there I have yet to see.