Acceptance?

A few years ago, my doctor told me I had fibromyalgia. I had been dealing with this feeling of having run a million miles and my muscles were just aching and I felt like I'd been dragged behind a bus. I wasn't sleeping well. I had no memory. My hands would fall asleep for no reason. I would have to make repeated urgent trips to the loo - delightful...and I would get knock me to my knees headaches from the smell of any aerosol cleaner or heaven forbid, a glade plug in. I remember the babies climbing on my lap and yelping in pain because their little feet hurt me so badly (all 18 lbs of little feet). None of it made a lot of sense. I thought maybe depression? But, my doctor did some investigating and performed a few little touch tests - pressure tests - apparently there are a potential 18 points on the body that would be tender if lightly pressed on - I was in tears.

So, the diagnosis was fibro. The treatment was pain medication and an old school anti-depressant that had a side effect of drowsiness. I played along. For a while. Pretty much poo-pooing the whole thing. I thought it was undermedicated thyroid disease. So, I had my thyroid medicated. Then I had my thyroid removed. Then I medicated some more, cause now I can't live without the stuff. I am still brought to my knees with this out of the blue pain. This strange phenomenon of feeling like I've participated in an Ironman competition - without the medal or the personal best.

I'm having one of these attacks right now. I feel HORRIBLE. I feel like I'm walking in neck deep concrete. I ache. I'm exhausted, but I can't sleep. Pain meds don't really do anything. I want to crawl into a hole, but I can't, cause there's too much to do and too many people to do it for. Christmas is coming. I have things to do. I have things to prepare. The only upside of this thing is that I occasionally get a boost in the evening...but then that just perpetuates the problem. Stay up too late, push my body to do things it's asking me not to do, wake up feeling like a bag of crap. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I would really like to just pretend it's not true. That it isn't happening. That I don't have to deal with it. But, every 6 months or so - it rears it's ugly head and demands to be recognized and attended to. And, I hate it for that.