Too Tired for a cute title

So, I haven't written a blog in almost 2 years.  I had this huge goal of sharing my journey and this was to be a great outlet for me, but I lost my "mojo."  I had a few setbacks and about 18 months ago I had a hysterectomy.  Then I had a nice long period of remission.  My theory was, why wake the dragon?  If I don't talk about it, maybe it will stay "remissed." Apparently "remissed" isn't a real word, but I declare; it means to stay in remission.  But alas, my monster has reared its ugly head.

David and I went on our annual cruise without the kids in February, and I got sick.  I usually get sick (when not in remission) from the anxiety leading up to a trip, and the actual travel involved in getting to the ship (in most cases it's a cruise).

Inside the "London Eye" with David, the boys and
my parents, September 2013

Sun Sun Sun... how I hate the Sun

Hindsight is 20/20, or so they say.  I can't say that everything has truly come into focus for me yet because I'm still learning about this disease every day.  One thing that is crystal clear for me is how much I loathe the Sun.
Obviously I appreciate the good things about the Sun, like its use as a greener-energy and photosynthesis because I like strawberries and tomatoes. Blah blah blah. Plus the fact that it'd be -459.67°F here without it.

As it turns out, when I was floating in the crystal clear waters at Half Moon Cay, I was making myself sick!  I mentioned in the previous post that David and I were floating (well I was floating, he tried).

I debated posting these pictures, but they illustrate my points: 

1. David can't float.

2. Obviously I am as pale as they come.

3. The water really is that clear!

I'm Coming Out!

I'm coming out and I named my Blog "The L Word."

What could this mean?  Obviously, this is me telling the world that I have Lupus -- a disease that's highly misunderstood and difficult to diagnose.  I intend to use this blog as an outlet and a tool for my own good health because being ashamed and hiding it is slowly killing me.  I have been reluctant to share my diagnosis, but I know I'm not alone and I don't want to feel like I have this giant black cloud that follows me everywhere. Everyone sees the cloud, but no one talks to me about it.  It feels very disingenuous.