May 19 2009
Talking To Myself
It’s been a rough couple weeks around here in the fibromyalgia department. It never fails. Just when I think that I have at last found something that is really helping me and I start having visions of a semi-normal life… ding dong – big ol’ flare calling. Man. Way to slam a girl down to earth you big kill joy of an illness. hrumph.
When I cam back from France I was riding a wave of high energy. The weather was so much better – so much dryer. Even though it rained part of the time, the atmosphere was less damp. What an incredible difference it makes to how I feel. I even took a few short walks! Walks people! I don’t take walks except a stumble from room to room in my house these days. But in France I walked – for more than a few feet at at time! That alone had me feeling like I could take on the world. So when I came back I knew that it would be hard, I knew that I would have a post-holiday come down. But I felt so good that I made a point to keep riding the wave of optimism and energy that I caught down there. And for the first week or so I was able to keep it up. I worked in the back garden, I worked in our allotment doing things I wouldn’t have believed I did if I didn’t know I did. We had a party at our house over the May Bank Holiday weekend and I trotted around the place with only my walking stick and the occasional wobble. Everyone said how good I looked, how great it was to see me up and about. I agreed – I felt great! I celebrated what felt like a new beginning to something fantastic and exciting.
And then I crashed. Hard.
In the weeks since I crashed it has been a struggle once more between my will and my body. My will is intense and strong, and it is not at all pleased that my body is once again calling the shots, and the directive is: stay put and do nothing. Not pleased at all. So I pushed with all my might and in my best little engine voice cheered myself on as I struggled to get out of bed and do something – anything- to prove that I was not losing this battle. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. I got back out to the allotment and dug in the dirt. I sowed seeds and planted starts in their new beds. Inspiration and visions came to me while I worked. It was incredible and I felt that finally I knew how to live with this illness, that I had found that something I was looking for that would push me —-through—- the pain and into life.
But then I crashed. Even harder.
I didn’t get up this time. I tried. I got as far as the kitchen where I realized that making my breakfast -at 11:30 – was all that I could handle. Even that was overwhelming. I ate and needed to go back to bed for a rest. By 1:00 I was flat out fast asleep. Woke up at 5:00 (yes, that is a 4 hour nap) only to eat and crawl back in bed where I fooled myself into feeling like I did something by putzing around the internet. And so it has been for the past week. Me sleeping late, doing nothing, and sleeping some more. My body aches and screams when I push it each time I climb the stairs. My own personal Everest those stairs are. But no one is cheering when I get to the top. Just me, letting out an exhale of relief that it’s only flat ground until I reach my bed.
This is a downer of a post. I know, and I apologize. It’s posts like these which I avoided writing for so many months while I have been neglecting this blog. I promise I won’t write too many of them. I do believe that I have found that special thing that is needed to keep me going forward and living with this illness, living with this body and not fighting against it. Part of that is being honest though. Honest about my joy, about my struggles and honest about my victories as well as my failures. They are all important. They are all me. They are all divine and they all keep me crafty – looking for a new way to do things, creating a life worth talking about. Even if I am just talking to myself.
5 responses so far
You are talking to ME. This is a timely entry for me. I had been having relatively good days lately, but yesterday started having problems with my right heel and back. I have this nagging obligation to be more active, as I promised my doctor, so I took up the opportunity to take a slow, sunny day walk around the block with my husband yesterday after work. I tried not to limp and make things worse, and kept a slow pace, despite my husband’s long, impatient legs. He did pretty well this time, not bitching about my slow pace.
Anyway, this morning I really had a tough time getting out of bed. My bones ache and I’m sure the innocent little walk contributed. I’m starting to flare again with all sorts of little things. (Sigh) But I have decided to strive to be more positive despite the fibro beast. I need to learn to make friends with him – he’s not going away.
To sum up, thanks for posting about your flare and the challenges it has brought you. I can definitely relate and it helps to read about similar experiences, especially when the normals just can’t grasp this. Heck, on good days, I can hardly grasp it myself! Feel better soon…
Yes! That is exactly it, isn’t it. Making friends with the beast. Mmmmm that gives me all sorts of yummy visuals that are begging to be drawn. Time to bust out the sketch pad!
So happy that my babbling is heard by someone. And better yet, that it can help even a small bit.
cheers!
I know exactly how you feel! its so very frustrating when your mind is excied at the prospect of doing something but your body wont let you. Unfortunately you can only push for so long and whammo, the flare comes with a vengeance.
I do hope you feel alot better very soon and in the mean time just do what your body dictates.
you can always babble on to me as I live with the demon too.
I am feeling much better this past couple days. The weather is such a factor in things. It really makes you think about how we are affected by all that surrounds us. The demon looms large. Luckily we seem to find a way to let our life force loom larger! Accenptance, never defeat!
I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, the weather there seems so much more damp and seem to have more of a struggle than I, but let me say it anyway…I know and I’m sitting here in pain, dreading one more day of packing and moving and sorting and then crashing until I can do it all again. Moving has brought my fibro back front and center in my mind, although it was always front and center in actuality. How cruel this tease is, how cruel to tempt us into a semblance of normalcy and to swiftly revoke what it had let us believe in. I have noticed any amount of stress…physical, emotional, mental, world news like, etc will amplify all the pain and magnify the length of the crash, for crash is exactly what happens to me. I am grateful to be able to do all that I do, yet I long for those carefree days of yore, the pre-fibro days when I didn’t have to explain my limitations, fight for respect, and trick myself into the belief that once again, I am whole. I applaud your acceptance, mine has been a fleeting grasp, here today, gone tomorrow. I applaud your triumphs, as I do my own. Most of all, I’m glad I found an old friend once again.