These Days

When you suffer from any form of chronic illness, and I can only speak from experience with Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain, there are days when you cannot fathom getting out of bed, leave alone getting out of the house. The pain is just that great in its magnitude that functioning is taken out of the equation. You reach a point where you merely exist.

When I push myself, I make everything worse. It often takes me 5-6 hours just to get my mind right in order to get ready and leave. I have to factor in so many things in these decisions. My big motivator isn’t about myself though, it’s usually about making sure the girls have all that they need. If they don’t, I have no choice but to get shit done, even if it means not being able to walk at all for several days.

I woke up in a dark head space. Despite going to bed early last night, I accidentally left the air on instead of the heat. That’s how crazy the weather has been. By the time I reached the “everything hurts and I can’t move because everything is stiff” stage, it was 62 degrees inside. In this house, that’s like 45 degrees with a bitter wind chill. So, the heat went on and I went back to sleep for a few hours. When I officially woke up, it was “too hot” at 66 degrees, which just goes to show you that Fibro is no joke. There are days I am wrapped in a blanket when everyone else is in shorts and tank tops. There are also days when I’ve got two layers on and people are saying “You’re not hot?” When I’m really cold, I’m even wearing socks inside. I never know which way my internal temperature will slide or what the external will make me feel. There are days when 70 degrees makes me want to pass out and die, but if there’s a cooler breeze within the temperature, I’m okay. These days, even my hair hurts, and that’s never a good sign.

I am slowly pulling myself together today to hit two stores. If I don’t go, no one eats, including me. The last thing I want to do today is go anywhere, but for now, it’s just about calming the pain and stress levels down a few notches and hoping that a cool shower will wake me up enough later on so that I can run these two errands and come home.

I won’t lie: My first option was to have everything delivered or ready to pick up, thus minimizing my actual need to force myself out. Alas, two different stores were “out of stock”, so I have no choice but to go there myself and figure out what their deal is. Unless you’re having some kind of epic sale, there’s no way you’re completely “out of stock”, not unless you want to screw with me or there’s something wrong with your on-line system. It’s all very frustrating. It’s even more pathetic that I thought “Wow, that’ll be a breeze. I can just go in, pick up the order, and come straight home. I don’t even NEED to wear make-up!” Of course now, pride determines that I do not leave the house without looking like a human-being. Think Corpse Bride, with a lot of curves.

I admit, I have become moody due to the limitations from pain. If I don’t cook dinner by a certain time each night, which is the right time to allow me to be in bed in a timely fashion, then it’s simply not happening. And if I don’t eat a balanced diet, I will be deathly ill. One of my best friends joked that I’m damn near a vegetarian these days, which isn’t true, but can seem that way at times from the outside looking in. I don’t share in the vegetarian or vegan belief systems, so it’s really not possible for me to be either. It’s not about achieving some kind of goal or physical look, it’s merely about eating to live and getting proper amounts of rest. I hurt too damn much to get into semantics with people.

As the sun begins its rise above all the clouds, I keep wondering exactly when the “perfect” time is to get the hell out of here. Truth is, by the time I clean my bathtub (which I do several times a week because it annoys me), get ready, put up a load of laundry, and leave the house, it might very well be 4:00 PM. Trust me, the clothes are already in the dryer by the time I’m leaving, if not already dry, so there’s also that time in the “getting ready” process. Waste not.

It would be SO NICE to have someone to rely on in times like these. Someone dependable to say “I’ve got this, you go rest.” Not everyone is blessed with people in their lives who are willing to physically assist with errands and chores that have to get done. It’s not that I don’t want to do these things for myself, this isn’t about laziness, it’s about illness. I promised myself I’d learn how to ask for help this year, and accept the help that comes my way, but so far, I’ve hit a lot of brick walls and it’s disturbing to me. I loathe people who say one thing and do another, in all aspects of life. Don’t open your mouth unless you can follow through.

I’m sitting here with my tiny list, but all it does is stress me out. Normally I love grocery shopping and taking care of others, but in this moment, I’d really like someone to take care of me. I physically feel too broken to do it myself.