Mondays…The Bane Of My Existence

2015-05-042015-05-04 Miss Poison Being Sick, Fibromyalgia, Heat, Honesty, Life, Mondays, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Writing Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Migraines, Mondays, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Writing

Maybe it is lack of quality sleep or the fact that I woke up stressed, but this particular Monday is making me ill. The eerie quietness was giving off a lovely early Sunday morning vibe, which was helping calm my nerves…until the mowing and trimming started, AGAIN. I’ve had a migraine since last night, so the sound is like a never-ending sickness within me. I didn’t realize it until just now, but the smell is also murdering my sinuses. Spring allergies on top of all this physical pain AND a migraine? It’s unbelievably cruel.

The migraine is never truly gone. It will lull me into a false sense of security and then come slamming back, making me feel like my brain is being rattled. Has anyone received successful Botox treatment for their migraines? If so, please share your experiences with me.

Originally, I had some semblance of a plan for today. I had ideas laid out for work and I will definitely begin the process of writing certain things, but I’m realizing right now that some serious self-care is also in order. Today is going to be one of the hottest days that I’ve seen in quite some time, topping out at either under 90 degrees or over, so I think my first order of business before it kicks into high gear is to start hydrating, and to refill the Brita pitcher as a precautionary measure. Heat and I don’t mix well. In my mind’s eyes, it’s a “Wicked Witch melting” moment.

Something about the heat always makes me sick. It affects my entire body (pain, stress, stomach issues) and it exhausts me to the point where I will close my eyes and wake up five hours later. Like many things, the heat does Fibromyalgia no favors. It irks me that a person can’t spend five minutes educating themselves about Fibromyalgia, or any chronic illness, but when you explain that you’re sick, their response is selfish and self-centered, with claims of also having it. And yet, when they describe the pain they experience, you know their journey has yet to even take place because, while it may have been diagnosed, it is the utmost of mild for them. They don’t have to spend a week in bed after two days of serious activity. The only thing they do experience is widespread pain, but it’s not constant. Well, unless you’re on a morphine drip, Fibro is a constant. There are over 100 symptoms and side effects, but if you’ve only got one or two of them, I have a hard time relating because I score over 85 on the list, and that’s extremely disturbing to me. This disease is robbing me of my youth and energy in ugly ways.

So, if I don’t do or say something today that you expected, please forgive me. I’m waging war, both physically and mentally. I don’t have time for frivolous nonsense.

These Days

2015-05-022015-05-02 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Musings, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Life, Musings, Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Survival, Writing

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.

How Honest Are People About Their Mental Health? This Might Surprise You…

2015-04-11 Miss Poison Artists, Being Real, Creativity, Emotional Pain, Facebook, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, People, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Suicide, Writing Anxiety, Autism, Bipolar Disorder, Chronic Pain, Depression, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Life, Mental Health, Migraines, OCD, Out Of The Ashes, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, PTSD, Stress, Writers, Writing

Facebook needs to institute a better policy involving “friending”. Even with strict filtering, I have people sending me friend requests simply because they like something I’ve said. Why in the world would you want to be “friends” with someone who is simply the same astrological sign as you, or just happens to also be a writer/editor? I understand when people say they’re an “aspiring writer”. They want to see what they can learn from you. I am a very open person, BUT when it comes to my WIP’s, I am not about to post them anywhere for the entire world to see. I don’t want or need a critique, I don’t need someone to tell me how to be a better writer, etc. I have been doing this for 28 years this month. I know my shit. If I didn’t, I would never have continued to return to it, be it as a source of inspiration for myself or as a source of income.

Moreover, if a person openly declares themselves a “sociopath”, you probably DON’T want to accept the friend request that is sent to you an hour later simply because they “like” an intelligent and/or helpful comment that you’ve made. I keep my “inner sociopath” to myself. I do let her out on special occasions though, when a person is deserving of dealing with it. 😉

One interesting thing that caught my eye over the past couple of days was an article that other writers and aspiring writers were contributing to. I want to say that it was more a group of highly creative individuals, so there were songwriters and artists also involved in the conversation. It began with a question: “How many of us suffer from bipolar disorder or other forms of depression or anxiety?”

Nearly a hundred different people (it might have been more, this has been a rough week for me in terms of keeping in touch with others) responded with various responses that said yes and each of them explained their diagnoses. Only four or five people said they suspected they suffered from some sort of depression, but that it had never been diagnosed. About the same amount, more or less, said they did not suffer from depression.

I was very proud of everyone for openly, honestly discussing bipolar disorder, anxiety, OCD, and a plethora of other forms of “mental illness”. It hurts me to use that term AT ALL. I don’t see every single person as “mental” and I cringe when people refer to others in such a way, as opposed to educating themselves. An illness is an illness. I would never tell someone they were responsible for getting sick in the first place, but MANY do say shit like that. It baffles me. Some people even discussed varying degrees of autism. That takes incredible courage. One of my cousins is autistic, so I’m not ignorant there.

When confronted with my own mental health, I am supremely honest, but I do not advertise it. I am going through something that has made me full-blown OCD, exacerbated my PTSD to levels I didn’t even know existed, and my anxiety is so bad, I can barely sleep most nights without waking up screaming, sometimes from pain, sometimes from my medication wearing off too quickly.

From day one, I have openly, and very honestly discussed suicide. This makes people uncomfortable because they REFUSE to face the fact that they’ve romanced the idea themselves. No one can tell me they suffer from any form of depression and have NEVER considered suicide. It might have been a fleeting thought, it might be something you NEVER act on, but it still exists. This is a trigger for a lot of people. They lash out at me and decide I am no longer worth their time, all because I was HONEST. Catch me on a dark day and I might scare you with my truth, but anyone who genuinely cares about you will give you their time and concern, they will not pretend you’re “mental” or tell you to “take a pill”. Those are two of the most insulting things to tell someone.

I once had a woman piss me off at the grocery store. I was going through a stressful time with my father’s health and, in front of her children (both of whom were under the age of 12, but not younger than 8 or 9), she told them to “Get away from her, she’s “mental”. I might THINK a person is batshit in a public place, but unless they’ve caused harm to someone or they’re about to hurt themselves, I’m not stupid enough to go there.

Truth is, they were standing in front of a huge display of fruit for nearly ten minutes and wouldn’t move out of the way. How do you not tell your young kids to move over so other people can shop too? She was talking to them like they were infants, as opposed to children that have the ability to comprehend. The comment was completely out of line and off base. I turned to look at her, contemplated knocking her teeth out, and then looked at her a second longer with her kids. I felt incredibly sorry for them. I then politely took the fruit I wanted and said “Did you learn that in your many years of therapy? You might not want to pre-judge people based upon your own issues.”, and I walked away. She was left in the dust, unable to speak, because I called her on her shit.

I don’t need that kind of false denial in my life, not from any one. You don’t have to like me or love me, but I guarantee that with an open mind, you will respect me. I would never intentionally hurt someone with my candor, and it’s okay to say “Lisa, I care about you, but this upsets me too much to discuss any further.” It’s called COMMUNICATION.

I have lost people to suicide because they had no one they felt would truly listen and hear them out or “make it stop”. I’ve stopped myself many times from acting on a thought because I believed it was irrational and felt it was wrong to leave any one of 4-5 people in my life behind to discover what I’d done, or have to receive the phone call that just plain brings you to your knees. It would devastate four of them. The last person probably wouldn’t give a shit or so much as come to my funeral. I’m not a priority now, why would I be a priority then?! (Yes, that was morbid and I apologize. Two, you’d understand why I said that if you knew who I was talking about and how they have treated me.)

Being honest about what I suffer from, including migraines and Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain is part of what keeps me alive. The other part is that I am responsible for little people that love me and would have terrible difficulties without me. And even still… I often find myself thinking “This isn’t enough to live for.” It’s not coming from a selfish place, it’s coming from a place of wanting to be better, to strengthen the relationships in my life, to bring other relationships into my life and allow them to flourish. I cannot live for one thing and one thing alone. That’s my personal take on it, but it might not be yours, and that’s okay. I’m by no means here to judge you.

I want to thank the people that have supported me this past week through a living nightmare. I am surprisingly uplifted by the emotional support, care, concern, dedication, determination, and devotion. Only ONE person said “I’m proud of you.” When you’re going through hell, you do not want to be pitied, treated like a failure, or be belittled and/or disrespected. You simply want to be treated like the person that you are. I had to be reminded that I am strong, smart, and capable in the face of others trying to crush my soul. Bad things happen to all of us at some point in life. I may have been given a higher dose, perhaps God shouldn’t trust me so much, but it is what it is, and I am making peace with it.

I refuse to allow anyone to make me feel small in order to raise their own self-esteem.

If you’re honest and upfront about any illness, I applaud you. If you’re a loyal, supportive person to those that you love, I also applaud you. Compassion & genuine kindness is severely underrated.

“Things” do not make you who you are. It’s what’s inside your heart and soul that is the true value of self. The trappings are pure nonsense. They do not define you. I wish I’d understood some of that for the past ten years, but now that I do, I am determined, now more than ever, to persevere and make important things happen.

This phoenix has been reborn. Stay the hell out of my fire.

Sleep Interrupted

2015-04-032015-04-03 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Editing, Family, Fibromyalgia, Fridays, Honesty, Life, Loss, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Chronic Pain, Easter, Fibromyalgia, Good Friday, Holiday Weekends, Honesty, Musings, Passover, Pieces, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

I was in bed last night right after The Blacklist ended (If you don’t watch this show, you should. I never intended for it to become something I watch, but the pilot had me hooked from day one.). I flew up the steps, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and after double-checking cat bowls, got into bed. I slept well, until about 5:30 when I started smelling coffee. You know what that means, right?

Just yesterday I told Him “Do not touch my non-dairy creamer. I need it for my tea.” I made threats, none of which were nice, all of which were serious. I take tea time very seriously. When you drink 3-5 cups of tea a day, it’s clearly something you enjoy. I like mine a certain way and plain is not on that list.

I went downstairs in search of the smell, but He was in hiding, and rightly so. When I find him, it won’t be pretty. I fed cat and kitten and stomped back up the steps, furious, but still in need of additional beauty sleep. I was able to get a little more sleep, and have been awake ever since. He is going out later and replacing my creamer because I am not pleased that I can’t have tea until it arrives. Bastard.

This morning, waking up was not what I had in mind at all. It feels like a Saturday, perhaps because it is deathly quiet out. Apparently the kids are not in school this week, which makes no sense to me since Passover is next week and I don’t know how prudent it is for them to have two weeks off, but whatever. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

I’m stressed and I HURT. The weather keeps going back and forth between the 20’s and the 60’s, and while it is utterly beautiful to have milder temperatures, even if it’s a rainy day, it still messes with my body.

I have no plans this holiday weekend. Technically, Passover begins tonight at sundown. My family is scattered across the States and overseas, so I’m not attending any seders, nor was I invited to any. I will keep editing this manuscript so that I can move on to the others she has in store for me, and watch The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1. I’m trying to make tentative plans for tomorrow, just to be able to enjoy the day for a few hours out of doors, but nothing is etched in stone. If I’m feeling up to it, maybe I’ll just take a long walk.

As I’ve said before, the holidays are lonely. I miss my parents and Grandparents terribly. Loss often feels like it happened yesterday, but the years come and go and life moves on, even if the pain of each loss remains with you. I find myself astounded by people who never seem to be affected by the loss of a loved one, who return to work immediately, who never discuss the person again, etc. Are people really that cold and detached, or is that the “coping mechanism” utilized by most people? What is your take on that?

Regardless of what you celebrate, I wish you a wonderful holiday filled with family, friends, laughter, joy, and peace. Me? I just want my tea. LOL.

Long Days, Short Nights

2015-03-312015-03-31 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Friends, Help, Honesty, Introverts, Judgment, Kittens, Life, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Time, Work, Writing Cats, Chronic Pain, Emotional Support, Family, Fibromyalgia, Friends, Honesty, Kittens, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing

The days are way too long. The nights are too fucking short. Sleep is hard to come by, but man, I’m trying. I was raised to believe that doing your best is “enough”, providing it is truly “your best”.

I suffer from “Superwoman Syndrome”. This is a real thing. I’m an overachiever that has this unbelievable difficulty asking for help. Perhaps it stems from constantly being stabbed in the back when I HAVE asked for help in the past, or because people like to throw things in your face as if they are owed something. “I was there for you when…” are probably not wise words to hurl in my direction. If I’m there for someone, it is genuine, and I don’t have to say “I told you so.” years down the road. If you don’t want to be there for someone, don’t be, but that’s on you.

Fibromyalgia makes life harder than it needs to be. I used to be able to walk for miles on end, doing countless things along the way, and then walk back. It was never a big deal. Now, I actually have to gather strength to run errands and take care of very basic needs. It’s pathetic. And the last thing in the world I need is for anyone to point it out to me, as if I don’t already know that I’m slow. “We just went without you because we didn’t want to wait three hours for you to get ready.” NICE. Yes, that’s sarcasm.

Even without Fibromyalgia, I was already a pretty isolated individual. I had (and still have) a very small group of close friends and my family. I spent my days writing and editing, and I still do. It’s not the kind of thing I do in public. I’m an introverted extrovert. The people that see me work my ass off are cat and kitten, they know Mommy’s working. Pretty much everyone else thinks I do absolutely nothing, because I’m very quiet and they rarely see me. When you don’t do what everyone else does in terms of “normal”, people automatically make wild assumptions. It would be very nice indeed to do absolutely nothing. Attach a six figure salary to that and I will sign up immediately. Shit, I’d love to do “nothing” by spending my days at the mall, or the bookstore, or any number of places that I haven’t been in the last four years, or longer.

The most important thing to me now is having emotional support. I’m going into some horrific, tough battles and all I really want is to be heard, understood, and cared about. I’d rather a person not have the right words, and say a prayer for me.

There are no heroes in this. I have my Superwoman cape and I’m not giving it back, but all kidding aside, being supported means a great deal to me. The simple fact that I’m asking for it shows me that I’ve grown. Help and support, that’s all I need at the moment.

Mental Vacancies

2015-03-19 Miss Poison Fibromyalgia, Health, Life, Pieces Of Me, Work, Writing Editing, Fibromyalgia, Health, Life, Pieces Of Me, Work, Writing

Hello everyone! I did mean to write something sooner, but quite frankly, the brain does what the brain wants to do. Of late, I wasn’t 100% sure it was even there any more. However, I assure you it’s all firmly attached, but there never seems to be enough time in a day and my thoughts simply aren’t “write-worthy”.

What to say? I am still working on big manuscript. I’m exhausted from that because I’ve gone over it 4-5 times (the first 100 pages) and I’m still finding little things that bother me. Outside of work, I am dealing with some scary health stuff. The Fibromyalgia flares have been severe, then I’m fine, and then they’re severe again. All in a matter of a few days. The scary health stuff is completely separate. I’d rather be able to say “I don’t have ____.”, as opposed to talking about it ahead of time. Yes, like many of you, I did go on WebMD and the Mayo Clinic’s web-site and quite frankly, I only managed to scare the shit out of myself, so no more. I pray it’s nothing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look or feel like “nothing”.

Other than all that, I’ve done nothing but cook, transfer items from the washing machine to the dryer (repeating as necessary), have chased the littles around, fought with Sassy over being brushed (She thinks the brush is some kind of challenge. I think it’s the best way to keep her short to medium length coat manageable.), and have fought for every minute of sleep. Tomorrow, I will attempt to tackle real errands. It’s not what I want to be doing, but it’s what I have to do. Wish me luck.

I hope everyone has had a good week. I’m doing my best. I appreciate all the comments and messages sent my way. 🙂

Is anyone else following a specific team in the NCAA Tournament?

Which is a lot like listening to Kanye West "speak". — Which is a lot like listening to Kanye West “speak”.

Hard To Define

2015-03-15 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Pain, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Support, Writing Chronic Pain, Disloyalty, Falseness, Fibromyalgia, Pain, Quality Friends, Trust, Writing

I am currently in one of those moods that is hard to define. Lack of sleep and a full body flare-up haven’t helped matters much. You either allow yourself to feel all of the pain, or you mentally allow yourself to be dulled. I’m not talking about drugs or alcohol. I’m simply saying that after a period of time, you shut your mind off because all of the pain is too much.

Not being able to sit for very long, walk the way I used to, or turn my head and neck properly, was something I focused on for a very long time. All I could think about was what Fibromyalgia was taking away from me. Being able to fully take care of myself being high on the list. Other things start becoming afterthoughts because without dulling the mind, the intensity of everything I think and the pain I feel comes rushing back. No one deserves to live like that and call it a “life”.

By all accounts, my life would be considered full to the eyes of many. I know differently. I know that just getting out of bed is a struggle, especially if I haven’t gotten any real rest. Nights spent tossing and turning are equally as exhausting as the pain itself.

There are days when I truly need a nap. Sometimes I fight it, other times I give in. Sometimes a 2-4 hour nap is the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. It upsets me that I cannot make definitive plans because of the pain. When I do make definitive plans, I do my level best not to back out at the last-minute, unless it is something that is truly easy to re-schedule. People, it turns out, aren’t very understanding. Over time, you lose people in your life, but you hold on to those that are quality. A real friend doesn’t turn their back on you, period.

I think it’s important to support others through any form of Chronic Pain and Fibromyalgia. I don’t think it’s acceptable to walk away from someone who is really suffering or turn your back on someone without just cause. Essentially, many people want things they are not willing to give in kind. Hard times help you to see other people’s true colors.

I’m the same person I always was: Inappropriate, funny, honest, direct, loyal, and real. Pain has not minimized my personality or the lengths I will go to for others. It has slowed me down, yes. It has made me focus on other things at times, but it has not changed the core of who I am.

Love, loyalty, and friendship mean different things to different people. I know what it means to me, and I honor that. I will not stand for those that cannot honor any aspect of it. Apologize when you are wrong, fuck off if you’re not genuine, and basically, don’t waste my time; it’s valuable. Pain might limit certain things, but it’s not a lobotomy.

There are a lot of false people in this world. Don’t allow yourself to be fooled by them. See people clearly, for exactly what they are. Stop looking for the good in people (Despite what some people believe, there is NOT good in “everyone”.) and start looking at what’s right in front of you. Trust is not something to be given away freely, it is something to be earned.

Jumping The Gun

2015-03-09 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Life, Pieces Of Me, Writing Chronic Pain, Fibromyalgia, Life, Pieces Of Me, Writing

I feel jet-lagged and incapable of moving almost every muscle in my body today. I can’t truly afford to take the day off, but I have no choice. I am sitting here and my eyes are barely open, my brain is barely functioning, and yet, I know full well that I got a full night’s sleep. Have I mentioned that I HATE turning the clocks forward?! It is a crime against the body.

I’m in a little less pain than yesterday, but I suspect there’s something waiting around the bend. After all, Fibromyalgia loves nothing more than to lull you into a false sense of security in your body’s pain threshold before it knocks you back on your ass, unable to breathe. I went to bed last night in severe agony. I even looked in the mirror to make sure my spine wasn’t bruised. The never-ending grind on the body is tiresome and depressing. There are moments when you question whether or not you’re actually alive or if you’re simply living in a nightmare, unable to wake up. At any given moment, it’s truly a toss-up.

Not even caffeine can keep me awake, so I am going to close my eyes and allow myself the rest my body is screaming for, even though it makes me feel terrible about my place in this world. If you know someone who suffers from any form of daily pain, send them a kind word this week and let them know you’re praying for them, care about them, or that you are simply available to listen. Oftentimes, those are the things sufferers of any form of chronic pain need the most.

Tell Me The Truth; Was I Run Over By A Truck?!

2015-03-08 Miss Poison Chronic Pain, Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Migraines, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Work, Writing Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Migraines, Musings, Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Weekends, Work, Writing

Sleep issues, for now, seem to be on their way to looking up. I was in bed so early last night, I’m certain every 80+ year old Grandmother was still awake when my head hit the pillow. When sleeping is difficult, it’s good to go to bed the second you can no longer keep your eyes open. Mission accomplished. It was after 4:00 a.m. when I realized that I never bothered to turn the clocks ahead an hour, but in the grand scheme of things; no harm, no foul.

Somehow the downside of a full night’s rest is that I woke up feeling like a Mack Truck had run over me, backed up, and proceeded to go at it a second time. Everything from my neck down to about mid-thigh feels broken, bruised, damaged, and whatever words are worse than “sore” and “achy”. By Fibro flare standards, this is pretty standard. It was twenty degrees colder yesterday, and yet today, while the temperature is slightly under a balmy 50 degrees, my body is working against me. Even my hair hurts…that’s not okay.

Weekends are never as long as they should be. For at least a year, I’d like one continuous weekend. There are weekends where you get a lot of writing/editing done (read: work) , and others where you get to enjoy things that you might not normally get to do (Minds out of the gutter.).

I’m extremely displeased with where this weekend went, but considering how much I have on my mind and on my plate, figuratively speaking, I just have to do better this week in terms of properly managing time.

In the meantime, I’ve got a ton of work and research ahead of me this week. I look forward to none of it. I’m having a hard time being passionate about what I do because the daily pain is just too much. Normally I am speedy and efficient. Right now, I am slow and I find fault with every other word. No matter how much positivity I can manage, at the beginning and end of each day I am still in excruciating pain and it’s hard not to take issue with that.

Here’s hoping everyone’s week is bright, and full of potential. I’ll be okay with significant progress, love, support, and a lot less pain.

The Truth Is…

2015-01-21 Miss Poison Being Real, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Being Real, Beliefs, Faith, Fibromyalgia, Honesty, Pain, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sense Of Self, Writing

I am sick of it all. I am exhausted beyond measure. I feel emotionally shredded.

I’m tired of people trying to emulate me. I realize they lack vision, manners, and basic common sense. No matter what people say, we’re not all “born with it”.

Fibromyalgia pain is gutting me. There are too many days I cannot walk, and many more where I cannot function. And yet, I keep working my tail off.

I believe in empowering others, especially women.

I believe in loyalty, love, friendship, and being able to combine the three. I believe in being a devoted friend, no matter what. I don’t believe in keeping score. Life isn’t a hockey game and friends shouldn’t try to rack up points with one another.

I believe in being a good sister, but there are days even I have my limits.

I believe in being a good cousin, but again, I have my limits.

I believe in being a good niece.

I believe in being a good partner, but I don’t believe in being with someone because I am afraid of being alone. I’m not. I would rather be alone than be in a bad relationship. Hell, I’d rather read a book than be in a bad relationship!

I will always stand my ground. I will not waver in who and what I am. I am confident in the person I have become. I am not without my faults, but I’m well-aware of what they are. No one is perfect.

I believe in talking someone down off a ledge. Unfortunately, I can’t talk myself down off of mine.

I have faith, intelligence, strength, talent, and skills. And yet, where Fibromyalgia dwells, pain often tries to rob me of it all.