I’ve written before about my chronic illness. Last week, I shared my story of trying to find a doctor to listen to me when I said there was something wrong in my body. At first, I was dismissed until I found a provider that would hear me. She sought answers for me, ultimately leading to a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. I said in that column that I was thankful for the care I’ve received since that day because I have been able to go on with my life and am not disabled like so many women of my age and with my condition.
My body responded this past weekend with a full stop.
I live with limitations and have learned to pay attention to the warning lights before I break down.
With that said, I’m a single mom. I work a full-time job and a part-time job. I take care of a house and a car. I regularly attend church as well as trying to have a semi-regular social life. And I share my thoughts, opinions, and feelings with all of you three times a week.
It’s a lot.
I don’t regret any of it and I’m not going to scale back. This is my life and I like my life.
But sometimes I need a break.
When my fibromyalgia flares, it causes me overwhelming, full-body pain that is so intense I can’t be touched. The nerve signals from my brain go into overdrive, sending what feels like electrical currents through my limbs.
It’s not pleasant.
I don’t say this to diminish anything at all that others might face. I know my pain is small potatoes to what others may experience, and I am extremely grateful.
When I flare, though, I usually have one day of the worst of it and then I’m sore for a few days, feeling like a post-workout strain. This time, the flare laid me out for two days. I even called in to work, which I never do. On the third day, I was still sore but functional.
Although I hate the forced rest, it’s good for me to take a break. I am good at shutting down when I don’t have a list of chores to do. I’m not so good at letting the chores wait for my body to catch up. I did have some help with some of the household stuff but I’ve had to give that up for economic reasons. So it’s me and a teenage boy- God help me- taking care of it all.
I’m thankful these flares are less frequent than they used to be. I’m thankful that I do have pain-free periods. I’m thankful that I do take on physical activities and am able to be present with my son.
I’m also thankful that on days like today that he knows how to cook for himself so Mom doesn’t have to.
So laid in bed, rested my beleaguered body, and took the time I needed to feel better.
And the next morning, I got up and started again.
Because that’s what we do. We give ourselves permission to take the break and then we get up afterwards and keep going.
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