Fibromyalgia Cease-Fire

August 19, 2007

Today, I’m having a Fibromyalgia cease-fire. That’s the point I reach after a brief cycle of sadness, frustration and fighting the flare-up that I can feel burning inside of my body. I ache, I cry– internally, I’m screaming, “NO, NO, NO! Go away!” Exhaustion, pain and depression win out, but I’m fighting a little less now, and sort of learning to bend with it.

It’s like when my kids were babies– you know that a baby is going to do what a baby is going to do, despite your best laid plans. You carefully arrange the day– make the bottles, pack the diaper bag, dress Junior in his cute little outfit and set out for some activity. As soon as you reach your destination, he poops all over the place, and you have to leave. Plans are scratched, and you have to just go with the flow. With a baby, you understand. You treat him with love, no matter how much he may have screwed up your plans. With Fibromyalgia, my tendency is to want to spank the baby, yell at the baby, punish the baby, etc. I have no compassion for this syndrome.

That was how yesterday was. I was supposed to go bicycling, and I wanted to paint the bathroom. Instead, my body began screaming for attention with all of its aching, my mood started spiraling downward, and I was overcome with fatigue. At first I resisted it. Then I grudgingly succumbed to it. I napped, wrote in my blog, and cried to myself a little. I asked Tom for a hug. Later, we watched Gods and Monsters and went to bed. I felt awful for changing the day’s plans.

I really get trapped into this feeling of wanting to climb out of my body, wanting to die, wanting some sort of magic feeling to wash over me to make this all go away. It’s like slipping on a banana peel…I’m flailing about, trying to regain balance, dreading the impending fall. It’s always two steps forward, ten steps back.

So, today I’ve called a truce. I will be kinder to the enemy (Fibro). I’m going to learn how to actually befriend this unwelcome visitor. I’ve watered the garden (it relaxes me), made breakfast (a small, no-cooking one), postponed my big projects, and for the past couple of hours, I’ve been listening to music and painting–a picture, not the bathroom. Now, I’m tired, and I’ll rest. Tom wants to go cycling later, and I’ll try again.

(Reading over this, I realize that it all makes me feel so *gasp* middle aged.)

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