The truth sometimes dwells in triteness.
Consider “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” And the idea that follows that mostly
everything is small stuff. I know, Hallmark-card psychobabble. But my disease
has driven home the occasional profoundness of cornball cliché.
Small stuff. Don’t sweat it. MS teaches me such daily. You yourself live with something akin to
my MS. It drives home some similar truism, whether or not you hear it yet.
I include this photo (I'm the blonde) because it gives me joy, and because I love that look of awe and WTF-edness on my sweet face.
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