[they say you can never be too thin...]
Okay, so I’m taking a short mental health break yesterday morning at my desk—after a really rough start to the day at 8am—and I’m reading some of my favorite blogs. Lo and behold, Lora over at fever is giving me mad props as she’s thanking me for the “Honest Scrap” award. Awww, shucks girl—your welcome. I love your blog.
Lora mentioned that she started reading my blog because I’m a fellow fibromyalgic: “I love her because she lives her life despite all these things” [fibromyalgia pain, etc.] Again thanks sister…. But I started feeling guilty cause I don’t think I have much pain, like so many sufferers I know. Then the rest of yesterday happened….
Not that it was particularly bad, but it turned out to be one of those days where I “hit the wall,” as I like to put it.
I spend my day answering phones and performing other administrative tasks for a team of doctors—I don’t get to move around as much as I should. So, as I was making my way to my car at about 10 after 5, the aches started. I got home and up to my apartment and plopped in my chair. Okay—where’s the Ibuprophen? I popped 800mg [perfectly safe per my docs] and made a bowl of pasta with parmesan for dinner. It hurt to eat it.
That’s when I know it’s bad. Real bad—ya know: WallMe
All I could do was crawl into bed. I hate when I get like this—there are things I want to do, NEED to do, but I’ve run out of reserves for now and need to replenish my supply somehow.
Of course this time of year is hectic and that stresses out those of us that deal with the vagaries of fibro. Add to that the play I’m directing—it’s getting down to the wire and I just keep seeing all the things that need to get done. Thank God I have my awesome friend Alan as my A.D.
So, anyway, I understand why I hit my latest wall—and I’m trying real hard to learn how to avoid the walls, but….
I was diagnosed with this thing 15 years ago and they don’t know that much more about it now than they did then. I don’t know if I have less pain and more fatigue than others or I’ve just gotten so used to pain that it seems “normal” to me.
Oh—and: Those Lyrica commercials piss me off—they seem so condescending. And who the f wants to deal with the side-effects they spit out at 90 miles an hour at the end of the commercial.
Can’t wait to see what my “normal” will be in another 15 years…..
