Fibromyalgia. One word, a diagnosis, and so many different meanings to so many people. I can only describe my story. I guess you could call me a newbie to the diagnosis. The verdict came in the fall of last year after all of the wonderful poking and proding. Being someone who wants to fix what is wrong, I started looking for answers to make my symptoms at least weaken a little.
First was the diet. I cut out white flour and refined products as much as I could. That helped the IBS (irritable bowel syndrome). Then I started boosting the vitamins in my diet and started on a supplement. I went to conferences, aquatic therapy, physical therapy, and anything else that the doctor suggested. The therapy’s that were supposed to lesson my pain made things worse and the vitamins did not seem to help as everyone else who took them said that they would.
This was a problem. I cannot get rid of my fibro, I know I need to learn to work within my limits. Those limits are frustrating. I used to enjoy taking walks with my husband, yet at this moment I cannot walk 200 feet without feeling like I am going to fall over. My husband actually joined the gym because of me. Now I have trouble even walking into the gym. Well enough about that, i think that you probably get where I am going with this.
I know I need to learn my limits. I need to rest when my body tells me that it has had enough for the day and not push past that just because my mind wants to finish what it has started. Frustration and exhaustion have set in. I am tired of feeling this way, yet the flip side is that I do not have a choice. I feel like my body has betrayed me. Like I am a shadow of myself.
Once I said to someone that the first time that I was sick people understood, the second time they tried to help, the third time they were wondering why I could not “fix the problem. Surely I was not doing what the doctor had prescribed. I think that I am at the point now where my friends and family are tired of hearing the same thing. They are amazing and if I were them I would feel the exact same way. Hell, I might even be one to say why can’t they just get their shit together. And then again, after what I have been through maybe I wouldn’t.
Now my friends and family are hearing about a service animal. Sometime’s I even wonder, am I really that sick. And then I have to literally crawl up the stairs, physically get helped into the shower, or not even be able to fix myself lunch because I cannot stand because my back is so bad that day.
I want to be out there doing everything that I used to love. It just is not possible. Hopefully, once I have the service dog or as I say some assistance with my activities of daily living I will be able to get out again. I am looking forward to taking my kids to the park down the street from me, window shopping, or even going and having a cup of hot chocolate and journal at one of my favorite places.
The journey has just started for me.