Some things are difficult to say plainly. This is one of them.

I am raising $52,000 for a medical treatment I must cover out-of-pocket. Not eventually. Now.

I live with chronic pain every day—fibromyalgia, status migrainosus, and, more recently, hyperparathyroidism that went undiagnosed for far too long. Together, these conditions shape the rhythm of my life in ways that are often invisible to anyone outside of it.

Fibromyalgia is a neurological condition that alters how the brain and body process pain. Signals misfire. Sensations intensify. Fatigue settles into the body in a way that rest alone cannot resolve. It is complex, often misunderstood, and disproportionately affects women—especially Black women—while remaining under-researched and underfunded.

There is a language that people living with chronic illness come to understand. You may have heard it described in terms of “spoons”—a way of measuring energy when it is no longer abundant or predictable. What once felt ordinary becomes deliberate. Walking through a grocery store. Going to check the mail. Regular household chores. Moving through a full day without interruption. Experiencing even a brief moment where your body feels steady, familiar, your own. These are not small things when they are no longer guaranteed.

In building this collection, I wanted the visual language to reflect that reality. The butterfly appears here not as decoration, but as a symbol of continual recalibration—a body adapting, adjusting, enduring. The use of purple is intentional as well; it is the recognized color of fibromyalgia awareness, representing resilience, visibility, and the quiet strength required to move through each day.

May is Fibromyalgia Awareness Month. For me, that recognition is not abstract. It is lived. And it has become a point of focus—not just to speak about the condition, but to create something that participates in the work of being seen.

This collection is part of that effort.

Fifteen percent of each purchase will go toward fibromyalgia research and advocacy, supporting organizations working to better understand, treat, and ultimately find a cure for this condition, including the National Fibromyalgia Association (NFA), the National Fibromyalgia & Chronic Pain Association (NFMCPA), and the American Chronic Pain Association (ACPA).

I know there are simpler ways to ask for help. I know some would suggest starting a GoFundMe. And I understand that. But this felt more like me. Something built. Something shared. Something that allows support to extend beyond a single moment.

If you choose to participate, you are not only helping me access the care I need—you are also supporting the people behind each piece, the vendors I work with, and a broader effort that reaches beyond my own circumstances.

This is, in many ways, about me. It is also about what it means to live in a body that requires patience, endurance, and faith in outcomes you cannot fully predict.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. After years of navigating appointments, treatments, and uncertainty, to be this close to something that could change my life—and still risk falling short—is a difficult place to stand.

But I am here. And I am trying.

If this resonates, I would be deeply grateful for your support. If it doesn’t, sharing it still carries more weight than you might realize.

Seen. Even when you’re not.

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Shop the collection:
https://simplyedynandco.com/collections/seven-days-of-truth