Writing with a chronic illness.

In 2014, things were so bad for me, I was sure we needed to move. I couldn't get up and down the stairs without wanting to cry. The thought of me once run-walking five days a week to now barely being able to take steps without a cane freaked me out. I felt panic-stricken. My sleep was atrocious because of experiencing pain levels 8 and 9 on a frequent basis. All my activities had come to a halt. I was practically house-bound. And since I am an extrovert, the loneliness was unbearable.