Shabby Chic Boho (Shabby Chic Boho style, baby)
Let’s set the scene. It’s barely daylight. Birds are still sleeping. The alarm clock goes off, and I’m lying there negotiating with it like we’re in a courtroom drama. Me vs. Mornings. Spoiler alert: mornings usually win. But I’ve got my secret weapon. Coffee. She’s hot, strong, and the only thing I trust at 6 a.m.
Before we go any further, let me be clear. I’m a fabulous *cough* year-old-something with chronic pain as my very clingy plus-one, thanks to a failed back surgery. And yet, here I am. Living, laughing, and limping through it all with a wild heart and a messy bun.
The Morning Mess with a Side of Sass
Getting out of bed is a full-body adventure. Picture this: me, groaning, wobbling, and making noises that can only be described as prehistoric. It’s not glamorous, but I get it done. Eventually.
Coffee in hand, I shuffle into the day. Mornings are unpredictable here in Boho Land. Sometimes I remember what I was doing. Sometimes I stand in the pantry like I’m lost in IKEA. Either way, I make it work. With chronic pain, you learn to adapt. You also learn that breakfast doesn’t have to be Instagram-worthy. If it’s warm and I didn’t burn it, we’re calling it a win.
Midday Musings and Microwave Magic
Midday is when I try to do All The Things. Some days I conquer the world (from my recliner). Other days, just putting on pants feels like a personal betrayal. If I manage to clean a corner or answer three emails, I’m giving myself a virtual trophy.
Lunch? Let’s not pretend I’m cooking up gourmet magic. It’s usually leftovers or a snack plate that looks like a toddler made it. Cheese cubes, grapes, and maybe a cookie if I’m living dangerously. And if the microwave does most of the work? Even better.
Afternoon Adventures in Chronic Chaos
Afternoons have a vibe. Usually it’s: “Why did I walk in this room?” or “Did I take my meds or just think I did?” I journal, I plan, I talk to my plants, and I sometimes forget what day it is. It’s all part of the magic.
My back might scream louder as the day goes on, but that’s when I lean into comfort—fuzzy socks, soft pillows, and maybe a little online shopping because retail therapy is therapy, thank you very much.
The Evening Wind Down That’s Never Calm
Dinner? We’re keeping expectations low and spirits high. I throw together something that won’t require bending or lifting. If it ends up in a bowl, even better. One dish to wash. Multitasking, but make it lazy.
Evenings are when the house quiets down and I finally get to breathe. Pain levels are up, energy is down, but my sense of humor? Still intact. Barely. But it’s there. I put on some soft music, maybe light a candle, and just exist.
Late Night Laughs and Decaf Dreams
At the end of the day, I’m sore, stretched thin, and running on fumes. But I survived another day. I didn’t let the pain win. I still laughed, I still showed up, and I still managed to be exactly who I am a messy, magical, imperfect human doing her boho best.
So here’s to the chaos. The coffee. The comedy. To soft blankets, stubborn spines, and the sweet relief of elastic waistbands.
It’s not the life I imagined, but it’s mine. And I’ll keep showing up to it—frizzy hair, chronic pain, glittery soul and all.
You’re welcome to download and print my spoonie planner. It’s thoughtfully created for anyone navigating life with chronic illness, pain, or disability.
