Learn More About Me

Tuesday, February 22, 2022


 It's official. I bought a computer. I'm writing a book.


I am working with a book coach, and she has given me a guide to work from. The first question was: Why do you have to tell this story. And my answer is different than I thought it would be.

WHY do I have to write this?

Because J.K. Rowling is a transphobic menstruator

I have not always been a good example of someone who supports trans people. I have done a lot of work on it, because I feel absolutely terrible about it.

I have a trans family member, and I was not a good person about it for a very long time. I love this person with every bit of my heart, but I haven't gotten my shit together to be supportive until recently.

When I got married, I issued an ultimatum. "You wear a dress or you're not in our wedding". And to this date, I am horrified at myself. 

I've made peace with this person and we are now close, but I will never be able to go back and change the way I acted then. Out of completely ignorance and hate. I hate sharing this with you, because I want to be a well-adjusted fighter-for-rights. I want to be like "yeah, I was about this before it was cool", but honestly, I was not.

So back to my WHY.

Harry Potter was my absolute favorite series. I read it several times per year. SEVERAL TIMES PER YEAR. We watched the movies all the time. I listened to all of the audiobooks. I used the audiobooks to control my anxiety and calm me down. They were soothing. They were magic.

And then I found out, the person who created all of this magic, this entire magical universe, was so closed minded that she would make statements against trans people. People who have found solace in her work. People who have felt accepted by the words she wrote, found out that the creator, doesn't value their life the same as other people.

That is why. I'm writing a book, specifically with the purpose of trans people knowing that the author loves them. No matter what. I'm a person, you're a person, we're all doing our best.

Wednesday, February 16, 2022


This one is a little difficult for me to write. I've had a lot of people tell me that the things I write here must be really hard to write. But really, it isn't. By the time my words hit this blog, I've pretty much worked through my feelings on the subject. 

I've had all of this for a long time. I've been to therapy, I've been to doctors, I've done the work. 

But the eye doctor was the last big boss I had to beat before I achieved Total Self Wellness.

But it was really hard for me to do. And it took me four years. 

I think that my struggle might be overshadowed some by my successes, but trust me, none of this came easy or without work. Yes, I was working on my anxiety and adjusting to my diagnosis the whole time, but I was so terrified of the eye doctor that I pretended it didn't exist. It wasn't a problem I needed to address.

Let this be a testament to how strong your brain is. I lost half of my vision and convinced myself that I didn't need to see an eye doctor. FOR. FOUR. YEARS.

So I went last week.

And after a lot of tests, a small panic in the middle of the appointment, and a very thorough exam, the doctor told me that she saw the damage in my eyes caused by optic neuritis and MS. She saw the "permanent" damage.

Now, here's where I get caught up. I've been diagnosed with MS. I know that I have a lifelong chronic and incurable illness, but hearing that my eye damage is permanent was new and upsetting. Why?

She didn't tell me anything I didn't know. She said that I should have been seeing an eye doctor the entire time (I know). She said that the eye damage is permanent (I know). She said that I need to make regular eye appointments and see a doctor annually (I know).

When I first lost my vision, people who knew would ask me daily if it was better. After a while, they asked less. And now they really don't ask at all. Because the answer is always the same. "No changes". I think part of all of us was hoping that I'd be the miracle. I never really held out the hope that I would get pregnant and have the miracle baby, but for some reason I bought into the idea that I would someday get my vision back.

But now I know. I won't. So I'll add this to my list of grief to deal with, and that's that. Life is life. 

Wednesday, February 9, 2022


A couple weeks ago, I wrote a letter to the doctor who saw me for the emergency appointment the day I lost my vision.

I realized, I never saw him again. He played this HUGE part in my life, but I only knew him for about twenty minutes.

I watched a show once about "that guy". The one who you're always like "that guy! You know, the one from the thing!". Go figure, I don't remember the title, but in it, a bunch of "those guys" are talking about what it's like to be "that guy". But they usually deliver some sort of one line, bad news type thing. "You have a couple weeks left", "They didn't make it through surgery", or "I'm afraid there has been an accident."

(I had to look it up. It's called "That Guy....Who Was In That Thing". It's about 16 different actors who are all "that guy". It follows them through their careers in trying to forge a name for themselves so that when you see them, you say "oh! It's Tom Hanks!" And not "oh! It's that guy from Sleepless in Seattle.")

Whoa. That was a tangent. I think the point I was making is that the doctor I saw, was the "that guy". I went to his office, he said "I think you're having a stroke" and then we flew off to the hospital and the whirlwind takes us to today. 

But he made a huge impact, and I never got to thank him or see him again. 

So I wrote him a letter. And because I'm a terrible paraphraser, here it is:

We’ve met before, and this is long overdue, but I wanted to reach out and thank you for the impact you’ve had on my life.

The day we met, I woke up and could only see half of everything I should have. I panicked and called the eye doctor that my mother took me to as a child. I wasn’t even a patient any longer. I called the emergency number, left a message, and got you.

When you called, we discussed what was happening, and you said I should come to your office for an exam as soon as possible. This was the Sunday before Labor Day 2017.

My husband and I came to your office, I sat in your exam chair, and you said to me “I’ve met a lot of people who say that they’re seeing something, and they aren’t, but I can tell that you are. I think you might be having a stroke.” Or something to that effect, sorry if my memory is off, a lot has happened since then.

When my husband was driving to the hospital, I was trying to come up with different ways to remember your name. I can’t quite remember what I came up with to remember it, but it stuck. And I’ve thought about that day almost every day since.

I was eventually diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.

It has been over four years since we met, and I think a normal person would just move on and have forgotten about it, but I can’t.

You made a tremendous impact on my life that day. The kindness that you showed me, and the urgency that you took from my phone call, is something that I will never forget. 

Angela Terry


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