Day 1 of my 500 words

Boy, are you in for a treat. My life is so interesting, I am sure to keep you on the edge of your seat for the next thirty one full days. This should be really interesting. I hope you know I am joking. My life truthfully is pretty boring now. It hasn’t always been. In my younger years I created my own drama if there wasn’t enough around me going on. I could barely get enough of it.
I am married, I have three children, three husbands, and so many children I have adopted, or that adopted me, that I totally lost count. Not legally adopted, but it seemed all my children’s friends loved me and called me mom eventually as well so to hear everyone talking I would say I have dozens of children. I don’t mind, I love them all.
I Have Fibromyalgia, and sometimes it feels more like it has me. I have some good days, where I actually get some things accomplished. I have some so so days, that I get a little done, but I have some days that I cannot get a blasted thing done, between the pain and the brain fog. My writing is off, my brain can’t think, I can’t spell worth a darn and I just quit on those days.
I will try to make up for those days by writing extra on my good days so that it does not kill my goal for the final word count at the end of this challenge. I am not one that likes to talk about myself a whole lot because I either feel that I will come across as poor pitiful me looking for someone to feel sorry for the hell I went through in my past, or I will come across as seeking self -praise for having survived it all.
I am here to say neither is true. I know for whom I am to be grateful. God rescued me, it was God who saved me from the road I was on, and from the enemy that was seeking to destroy me, literally. I cannot take any credit for coming out of the fire in my life, because I never was strong enough to pull myself out. Had it been up to me, I would still be out there messed up on drugs and alone. That is if I were still alive today at all. Many of my friends are not here anymore.
I grew up in a time that was confusing anyway for kids, because we were too young to be hippies, but we all knew some. But cutting our hair, coming out of our torn up bell bottom jeans, wearing bras, those things were not appealing at all. Smoking pot to get through the school day, getting drunk off campus at lunch, skipping class and just sitting out in the smoking area instead; these are the things that we did, we were not hippies but were a confused generation.


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