MAYBE I LOOK WELL BECAUSE I AM MAGIC
(and a little bit overweight due to meds 🤭)
This was written for a paid submission for a salon on Substack.
Maybe my troubles began during menopause. Possibly before. I can’t remember being fully pain-free since my late thirties. But life, as I’ve learned, is a series of sliding doors –choices made, actions taken – every choice inevitably sprinkled with accidents, with luck and bad luck.
Still, I believe in magic!
Racing down the home stretch towards 64 (my birthday is November 9th), I look back at all the women I’ve been: the party girl, the traveller, the lover, the mother, the showjumper, the dressage rider, the Pilates queen, the novelist, the bag maker, the silk painter, the glass painter, the knitter, the crochet addict, the poet. How lucky am I to have experienced so many different Francescas, even if the current me has been ill for many years, leaving me housebound for a good part of the last three.
I always loved being outdoors. I am passionate about horses and have been lucky enough to have horses of my own for the past thirty-five years. Not only did I ride, but I organized dressage clinics at the yard where I kept my horses, helped organize national dressage competitions, and attended dozens of international horse shows. I lived and breathed horses.
But gradually, my body began to whisper, slow down. My hips and knees became crispy, aching.
I ignored them. I found ways around the pain, worked around the injuries. I limped, padded, soldiered on. My horse saw the vet at the slightest niggle. Me?! I hurt, but no biggie.
One day, my body pulled the handbrake. I was walking beside my younger horse, when, suddenly, I couldn’t take another step.
I saw many jaded doctors who prescribed long-term mega-doses of anti-inflammatories that barely touched my pain.
Eventually, my intestines staged a rebellion. I was diagnosed with an incurable inflammatory bowel disease, followed by, two years later, fibromyalgia.
My world felt like it had been put in the washing machine on the wrong setting and shrunk to a size that no longer fit. I lost my equestrian world, my social life, my freedom.
My intestines are so temperamental I can barely leave the house. My body aches. I feel tired all the time. And yet, almost exasperatingly, I look fine. How can I be so sick yet look well?
Maybe I look well because I am magic!
I’m resourceful, creative, able to access all the previous versions of myself. My curiosity pushes me to seek joy in other places and share it.
Writing has crept back into my life. Decades ago, while recovering from two consecutive accidents, I wrote a romantic comedy, initially published as Mucho Caliente. I got my rights back, worked on edits, then self-published it as Just Like A Movie. The editing process brought me joy, but when I began working on another novel, fear of taking on such a huge project thwarted my progress.
Then, randomly, poetry happened.
In February 2024, I joined a seasonal tiny poem challenge on Substack. My first prompt was “wolf.”
That little poem about my fear of writing opened the floodgates. Once I began writing poems, I couldn’t stop. When the prompts ended, I made up my own, writing multiple poems a day, sharing them online. I became obsessed with reading poetry, discovering famous and not-so-famous poets. The postman brought me poetry books at least once a week!
The more poems I wrote, the more I wanted to write. Poetry became my sustenance, my ticket to anywhere when my world was confined to the walls of my home. My confidence grew, my mental health improved. I rediscovered the joy of playing with words, using poetry to showcase my sense of humour, and enjoyed sharing my daily (mostly) joyful offerings with the world.
In April 2025, I published Illicit Croissants at Dawn, a selection of close to a hundred poems written between April 2024 and January 2025. My daughter, Olivia Bossert, a fashion photographer and artist living in England, designed the cover and did some illustrations. Collaborating with Olivia felt like the ultimate gift!
Although I still miss the daily rituals with my horse, not to mention my social life, I’ve managed to move on. I continue to write poetry and I’m compiling a second book. Despite having always been terrified of public speaking, I began filming myself reading my poetry, posting my videos online, and even did a short public reading during the summer – having taken cortisone to ensure a few days of respite from my intestinal issues. I enjoyed the experience so much I could have read the entire book!
While becoming ill has taken so much from me, including – for now – my freedom, it reconnected me with my creativity and introduced me to wonderful people all over the world, some I now consider friends. I’ve learned patience, resilience, worked on my fears and insecurities, and discovered how to do all sorts of online technical things (although I rely on my son or daughter when I’m really stumped!).
In the last few weeks, new medical treatments offer me glimpses of hope; even if my IBD is incurable, when my team of doctors find the right combination of drugs it will become manageable. And while my daily routine remains monotonous and my outings mostly restricted to trips to the doctor or the pharmacy, my imagination is in full bloom!
Nobody expects life to play nasty tricks on them. As a sociable, active person, when illness tripped me up I never imagined it would be quite so relentless. But I count my blessings; Microscopic collagenous Colitis is horrible, but it isn’t life-threatening. I have a wonderful family, a beautiful home in Switzerland and another one in Spain. I have found a team of excellent doctors. I love writing, I love making things, and I love sharing my creativity with people all over the world.
As I step into my third act, I feel incredibly lucky – even a little bit magical. And maybe I am!