This is a book about monsters. Not the cute, laughably incompetent ones you see in animated movies, but the ones you meet in your own life: ugly thoughts, unexpected losses, inexcusable evils.At age twenty, Kate Wolfe-Jenson had already discovered her monster-mind. She was an expert at negative thinking and expecting disaster. Then she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Together, the monsters whipped her into a wild dance, MS tapping out fear and sadness and her monster-mind twirling it into depression, rage and grief. It seemed like the monsters would win. A decade after being diagnosed, she discovered that what she knew about the creative process could help her deal with the frustrations of living with chronic illness (and life in general). Through that understanding, she entered into a dance with illness and healing, rather than running from them.Through memoir, essay and fanciful stories, this book explores the landscape of chronic illness, describes its contours and invites you onto the dance floor.
Praise from Readers
“amazing, a beautiful blending of honesty and creativity.” Rev. Bebe Baldwin
“It rang so true for me and my journey after the cancer diagnosis.” Pat Nyman
“only those with a chronic sickness… truly know what it feels like day in and day out. I just gave up because I could never find the words. Your way works. Ed Krawiecki 15-year MS veteran
Take your biggest smallest step toward well-being
I have one of those electric toothbrushes that gives you a signal after you have brushed for 2 minutes. These days, my PCA holds onto my elbow and hand while I brush. I can still steer the toothbrush, but she is there adding strength to my arm and grip. As with many...
From painting to mysticism
I painted this morning. My aide, Jenny, set out the paints and the paper and sprayed water on the paint tray to awaken the watercolors. My wooden-handled brushes sat beside the paints. I have had them for 30 years; they are old friends. I lifted a rectangular brush...
Being fed as a practice in forgiveness and gratitude
I can no longer feed myself. It is as if my arm has weights on it. It’s difficult to lift my hand as high as my mouth, especially if I’m holding a spoon full of food. The adjustments your hand makes in order to get a spoon full of food into your mouth are miraculous!...
No Results Found
The page you requested could not be found. Try refining your search, or use the navigation above to locate the post.
