Last night’s post was rough. I’m sure it was uncomfortable to read, and perhaps many people didn’t even get through it. I certainly cringed when I reread it this morning, and not just at my bad grammar. But as uncomfortable as it was, I needed to write it. I needed to try to take others to that place fibromyalgia sufferers sit in when we have these intense flareups. I needed someone else to see what it is I go through, regardless of how dramatic it looked.
Humans naturally shy away from things that are uncomfortable. Our immediate reaction is to try and fix it. We don’t want to be made to sit with things that can’t be fixed. But that is the issue. With fibromyalgia, this uncomfortable area of feeling broken and not being able to fix ourselves is where we often are. Another pain flare up just brings another day where we reach for help with no end or cure in immediate sight. And with reaching for that help, we bring on another series of thoughts in our head about how yet again we are this unpredictable burden to everyone around us.
I’ve been wanting to write another post about last night’s pain all day. I wanted it to be hopeful. I wanted it to soothe the minds of those who read last night’s post and just left the page not knowing what to think. I wanted to write a post to reach out to my friends on Facebook who saw the initial one just to say, “HEY! I’m OK now! Sorry for ranting and being such a burden and drama queen!”
But things aren’t better. I need to be ok with what I said last night (bad grammar and all) and accept that even though there is a part of me scheming to get some sort of yoga, a walk or any other physical activity in my life today, it ain’t going to happen. And there is a solid possibility that it ain’t going to happen tomorrow, either.
Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something. Fibro sufferers know this better than most.
My burden took me to my knees last night. It had me mentally screaming in agony, and I seriously thought that this time, I’d be crushed by the pain I was carrying. But I did wake up this morning. I made it through a hard night, just like I made it through the last time I thought I would be crushed.
Yes, humans have this flaw that we don’t want to see the uncomfortable again and again. But we also have the amazing ability of being resilient in both body and spirit. And that is something those of us with fibromyalgia need to keep reminding ourselves of. We are stronger than we look, stronger than we feel. And just when we think we are broken from pain, we will still wake up the next morning.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying one day we will wake up and the pain will be gone. It certainly isn’t gone for me, regardless of how little I’ve done today and how much I stayed down. But my pain burden is easier for having done so. And maybe tomorrow morning it will be a even better. I’m trusting my strength right now. I’m trusting that intuitively I know what is best for my body, and relying on that strength to do the things I really don’t want to do right now, which is to keep my ass in a chair or in my bed, regardless of what my head is saying.
What I’m doing today is just another facet of being your own advocate. Yes, there will be times when you feel like the pain will just never stop, and all you want to do is things that will help you cope right now because the pain is so bad you can’t think about anything else. And in those moments, we have to give ourselves the right to scream, cuss, cry, eat and do anything we can to cope. But the moment will pass. And when it does, and the pain starts to subside, we have the resilience to pick up the pieces and begin again.
Tonight, I’m not certain if I will find myself in the ‘beginning again’ part, or the ‘scream, cuss and cry’ part. But this time I promise not to write another badly edited post about it. Instead, should it get that bad, I’ll ask for help, again. And tomorrow will be another day of seeing how I feel, and doing my best to actively deal with it. So far I’ve got a 100% track record of making it through crap I didn’t think I could. I like my odds.