Yesterday, I was mad. Mad because just walking a lot meant overdoing it. Walking a lot AFTER cleaning my house, catching up on laundry, and going out (with 2 little ones, one of which is very active and doesn’t understand boundaries yet). This was with the help of my mother and my husband, who worked all day. I seemed to be in worse shape than them both at the end of the day. How could I hurt SO much and feel so spent and I didn’t do half of what they did and I had help? I thought for sure I wouldn’t sleep. I was in excruciating pain. I felt alone like no one gets it. I wondered, “Am I just a big crybaby, am I just a complainer?”
Be grateful? Enjoy? Enjoy what? Be grateful for what? It’s not fair! I was mad.
But, I had to let myself have those feelings and thoughts, giving myself permission. Also, not staying there.
Today, I’m thankful for better days, comfy blankets, Netflix, children that will sit and watch movies when mommy needs a recovery day, leftovers, pain meds, muscle relaxers, comfy clothes, a clean house, clean laundry, and that I have a day where I can slow down, try to recover, and be gentle with myself. I’m also grateful for the help I did have, although I still overdid it and ended up in a lot of pain, I realize it could’ve been much more difficult without extra sets of hands. I’m thankful for my husband (and jealous of him) that he still had tons of energy to take our son around and ride rides even after working a full day of work. I’m thankful for my mother, although I hurt more than she does and she’s older than me and even though, sometimes, she’s slower than me, she helps me out a lot. Three years ago, she was on death’s door, but God healed many parts of her body in ways doctors could not explain. He spared her life, and, for that, I’m incredibly thankful. It amazes me often that she, sometimes, can do more than me. I’m also grateful that, as much as they don’t understand from firsthand experience, they try to empathize. I cannot imagine if I had to go at this alone. I know some do, and my heart and prayers go out to them. Battling all of what fibromyalgia brings me is hard. It is incredibly challenging. But, I can do this, even when I think I can’t. It’s ok to whine, be mad, feel all alone and misunderstood. I just need to learn the art of not staying there. It isn’t fair. But, I can’t change that. And, if I dwell on that, I will be more miserable than I need to be. Yes, I ask, “Why,” but I’m not sure we’ll ever know. There’s no way to fully know why some people get sick sooner than others. My body, my life, is fragile and I’m human, mortal. My body was not made perfect and it may fail me. I don’t like that, but I cannot change that fact. So, hey, I tried my best and, today, I need to recover. And, that’s okay.