With the winter winds coming into my neighborhood, I was struck by how unpredictable Fibromyalgia can be.
I was diagnosed less than five months ago. In these five months, I’ve discovered that it takes about 5 hours for me to wake up every morning. This is after my daily yoga routine, which I have admittedly neglected. My goal for yoga is 45 minutes, and I usually only do 15. Then I throw myself into a combination of wedding planning, school work, and website management.
The more I work, the better I feel. But around 8pm, I am a raving, ranting, screaming hot mess. I think of myself as a molten lava monster – my pain is in the 6-8 range, and my irritability is at an 11. But I have wonderful Epsom salts, and a 30 minute soak in the tub usually manages things.
Throughout the day, I do have “jumping pains” and “lava snakes.” These unpleasant sensations teleport around my body like an extremely unfair alien in a bad science fiction movie, but as long as my mind and emotions are engaged in an activity, I can cope. At least that is today, and yesterday, and the day before that.
Earlier in my fibromyalgia journey, I was a ten-thousand foot tall volcano every day, all day. My pain was at a 72 but my anger was more like a 7. I’ve often wondered why the irritability still lingers despite my body holding up with the cold weather. Because I’ve generally suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder, I assumed winter would kill me with fibromyalgia. But the summer months wrecked me fiendishly. I haven’t been bedridden in a month, back when the temperatures were still in the 90s.
Someone explained to me about living with chronic pain, is even when you find relief and things get better, it’s like living with a horrible person. You know anytime they could come home and ruin things, so you’re constantly on edge.
As I’ve suffered through this grieving process of dealing with chronic pain, it’s nice to know that for once, some of my emotions are justified. Validation is a good word to use here. I find validation in other people with chronic pain, and in my family who deal with the sick, grieving, and disabled.
Pocket full of starlight: I’m not alone, and neither are you, whether you’re in pain or sparkles.
Pocket full of darkness: sparkles are generally not biodegradable and they can stab you in the eye unpredictably if you don’t have the cosmetic grade kind, like fibromyalgia.