October 12, 2014 celebrated something that is obviously near-and-dear to my heart (and joints): raising awareness to the various forms of arthritis. Especially juvenile–and young adult–arthritis. World Arthritis Day is the recognized day where all the coolest people band together to say to their peers, the medical community, and law makers,"this disease exists, do something about it guys." 

One day, I hope that we will all be able to say "this disease existed, it sucked but look at us overcoming it and shit." Or at the very least, raise enough awareness that people won't judge us for our invisible disabilities anymore–because there's nothing lovelier than "you don't look sick, are you sure, you're too young, if you just ate right" on a day when you're too crippled to walk.  

However. If there's nothing else that this past weekend has done (and hopefully it's also raised a ton of awareness), it has also shown me what an amazing support system I have. There's plenty of times where I fall into the 'woe-is-me' hole of life with a chronic illness, it's a dangerous pit but often it happens. I'd been proved wrong though. Last week, I'd said to wear blue for this event and to take pictures, and to be perfectly honest I didn't expect anyone besides my mom to actually wear blue (because that's what moms are supposed to do whether they like it or not). Except, I'd woken up on Sunday with several notifications from Instagram and Facebook where I had been tagged in pictures where some beautiful and rad people were sporting some crazy stylish blue clothing, and most importantly raising awareness. (Confession: I'm a bit of an over-emotional person, and I literally started to tear up a little like I was watching Old Yeller). It's a humbling, and heartwarming experience to say the least.

So, thank you to everyone who supports me whether by wearing blue or just by being there for me: my mom and dad, Melanie Christmas (and her family), Bryanna Griswell, Bekah Moon, Cindy and Ron Foxworth (and all of Knights of Solomon Motorcycle Club), Jane Nickel, Lora and Bill Fields, my brother, sister, and sister-in-law, Stephen Bloodworth, Kacie Harris, Kerry Hancock Abdo (my most knowledgeable of nurses about ports and medications), all my camp friends (Sarah, Mallory, Whitney, Savannah, Naa Adoley, Laurel, AJ, Matthew, Jordan, and all the campers I've had), and also like a million other people. You make me ugly-cry tears of joy a lot. I couldn't handle life without all of you. Thank you.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Hugs + Kisses,

Julia.

-------------------------------------------

We must stop and find time to thank the people who make a difference in our lives. 

-John F. Kennedy 

Trypanophobia:
The fear of injections or needles.
(#7 Top Common Phobias, according to psychology.com)

There's quite a long list of things that make me uncomfortable, scared, or otherwise just give me the heebie-jeebies (like clowns, bugs, creepy people, social situations, people touching their eyes, loud noises, winerahmer dogs, rabbit costumes, heights, falling, death, etc.). Everyone is constantly making fun of how incredibly jumpy that I am. However, it's nearly impossible for me to have a phobia of needles–unless said needle makes incredibly unnecessary loud noises (see: Humira Pens). Therefore, the fact that my body had been basically a pin-cushion these past few weeks hasn't phased me what-so-ever,. In fact, it seemed almost appropriate to liven up a mundane hospital-filled week by actually going to be poked repeatedly by needles (because that's logical), but this time by choice and with much excitement. 

It had been a few weeks ago while attending a charity motorcycle ride at my father's club, that I'd been so wonderfully gifted a certificate for a local tattoo shop. If there's one thing that I have a definite love affair with, it's tattoos (despite my formerly ink-less, bare skin), and it's not just because tattooed men are the handsomest. It'd been a last-minute decision to wander into the tattoo shop, and finally become an tattooed member of society. Like I'd said before, I'm a professional scaredey cat, so it was easy to psyche myself into being terrified over an infographic that listed shoulder blades as one of the most painful tattoo spots (thank you, pinterest). Luckily, that was a gigantic lie, because almost every IV that I've had has been a lot more brutal than this experience-or perhaps, I just have terrible nurses-. There was absolutely no feelings of pain that would warrant a dramatic "holy shit, this really hurts" moment, just a slight being-stabbed-by-a-pen feeling. Or, I could just be that badass. Either way, it is done and I'm overly thrilled with the result.  

Lovely Backstory, Because You Knew There Had To Be One:

Even though, I have a mile-long list of potential inking endeavors, it was without hesitation that I'd committed to becoming twinsies, times four, with my family members. It was a few years back that my parents both had gotten their first tattoos together: four paw prints to represent each member of our family–solidifying that I've definitely been raised by wolves, so to speak. It seemed necessary to represent some of the coolest (in their own special way) people that I've ever known with my first tattoo. After all, if there's been three people who have consistently been there and had my back (get it, get it, my back, since it's a tattoo, on my back!) throughout my entire life, it would obviously be those homies who have shared my last name. I'm now officially a part of the pack, and there's no denying me. 

Oh, look at me being all sappy and such. We absolutely know that the true reasoning for getting a tattoo was to increase my attractiveness level, obviously.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Hugs + Kisses,

Julia.

-------------------------------------------

Tattoos have a power and magic all their own. They decorate the body, but they also  enhance the soul.  

-Michelle Delio