Two years ago, I was too sick to move. The fibromyalgia diagnosis paralyzed me physically, mentally, emotionally. I’ve been hibernating since then.

For the first time since eternal winter set in, it finally seems as if sunny days are ahead. My mother-in-law and I were chatting today about pursuing dreams and how I never really had the time, the space, the opportunity to pursue mine. But now, suffering from chronic illness…I suddenly have time?

I’m taking a freelancing class and a personal essay writing class. I’m writing pitches for articles I’d like to write for my favorite magazines. And two of them replied back. I’m even learning to take criticism without crying…much. Hey, my husband’s really tough.

Should I stop telling people that I’m a full-time fibromyalgia out-patient? A part-time university writing tutor? Should I start introducing myself as a writer before I’ve even before I’ve made enough to cover the rent with my writing income? Is that crazy or is that what people who stalk their dreams do?