Tag Archives: love

I hurt so Badly. Why Can’t you be Kind?

Standard
I hurt so Badly.  Why Can’t you be Kind?

Hello fellow warriors and friends.  I write this today as a result of the things that went on yesterday here at my house.  I live in the country, with grass and hills that make even a walk outside impossible.  I can go outside and sit on my porch (I am right now) but I can’t go anywhere else because I still don’t have my car.  I am miserable and getting worse by the day.  Yesterday I broke.

They are trying.  See, I live with men.  Two sons and a husband.  They are trying to get our other two vehicles on the road but because of how expensive that is in Pennsylvania it is taking months before we have the money.   So, I am stuck here.  I have been for years.

I don’t complain much.  According to my husband, I am some sort of crazy person who loses my shit all the time.  Same with my oldest son.  The things is, though, is that I do not.  Yesterday I cried because I am so sad and miserable and I have been trying to hide it from everyone, especially myself. The problem is that every time I have a feeling about something I am “crazy”.

I have been binge watching television.  That is about it.  I cruise around my laptop to facebook and reddit.  I have been desperately trying to distract myself, to no avail.  I still feel like a miserable lump.

Now, I know that there are a lot of women with fibro who have no one.  Or whose husbands are just horribly mean and abusive..  No way is my situation worse, or even as bad as that.  But the reality is, is that everyone has their own demons; they have their own struggle.  My struggle is that my husband has no compassion.

He admits that he has none.  When I was crying yesterday because I am so miserable, sore, and bored he got mad at me.  He gets angry when I cry.  He is never sweet, or caring.  In those dark moments I am on my own.  It would be easier if I didn’t know for a fact that he is capable of it.

This is not to say he doesn’t help in other ways.  He is wonderful.  Him and the boys do their own laundry, they help with dishes.  I know that for the most part I am blessed.  I make sure he knows I feel that way nearly every day.  I do NOT take that for granted.

But the dark times?  The really dark times, when I feel like I am slipping again.  When I am wondering if I still want to live at all?  In those moments I need him the most and he is just angry.  I told him he couldn’t understand what it is like to be housebound and that made him mad too.  He won’t help me because I said that.  That is the excuse this time.  Of course he can’t understand, he has NEVER been housebound.  I don’t understand what he does at work every day..  at all..  how can this be the reason your shutting me out and hurting me worse?

I don’t know if anyone will read this..  I just needed to get it out.  I am so sad and I want my husband to hug me when I cry..  how is that too much to ask?

So, right now I am broken.  I am desperately trying to pick up a craft or color, but then I just don’t..  I keep doing the same thing..  over and over.

I am really angry with myself.  I am angry at so many things.  I am pissed that I cannot walk around my own lawn.  I miss my old life sometimes.  These are the reasons that I am freaking out.  This is permanent and dammit, I am going to suffer and break and I need my partner to help me put myself back together again.

Advertisements

On Women and Magic

Standard
On Women and Magic

This one is for the Ladies

Ladies!  I just thought of something interesting and I must share it right away.

So..  We know that when we spend a lot of time around other women that our menstrual cycles line up.  Mostly when this comes up women treat the fact like it is old hat.  Admittedly, it is old hat but I think we should look more closely.

Biological clocks, periods, and other women.  We biologically do this thing with women simply because of their proximity.  I realized what a miracle this is.  I was then immediately touched by what this should mean on many other levels.

We have been taught by the media that we should look a certain way.  It’s hard to be a confident woman in the present day US of A.  We are inundated by images constantly.  The real shitty part is that they are doing that on purpose.  If they make you hate yourself enough you will buy whatever they are selling.

If only I could help women see that our magic..  our power.. Comes from sisterhood and working closely together.  It is like a superpower that we can literally link our bodies,  I want women thinking about that instead of losing another 5 pounds or having the right hair cut…

It Isn’t about being prettier than all the other girls in the bathroom; it’s about seeing her soul and cooperating with it in the best way you can.  We have the power and the magic to accomplish so much…

…I just wish I could make you all SEE the magic too

Fibromyalgia: The Thing we Don’t Talk About

Standard
Fibromyalgia:  The Thing we Don’t Talk About

Ok.  One day while I was on Christmas vacation I read an article on my phone.  It was titled “Fibromyalgia and aging” so I wondered what I was in for and I read it.  Thing is, it talked about our grey matter in our brains.  It wasn’t about aging and what fibro does.  It was about how our brains are aging.  Everyone loses grey matter, we lose it at a rate that is 3.5 times faster than healthy people.

I tried to off myself.  I thought that this is it.  Here I am fighting this nightmare of a condition every single day and now I find out that I am going to end up like my grandmother..  only WAY earlier than it hit her.  I spent days in a mental hospital and they let me come home.  I am no longer a suicide risk.

How have I dealt with it since?  Well..  I really haven’t.  It’s still there.  This huge fact that I can’t even talk to anyone about because it is too awful and no one knows what to say.  It’s like when someone dies..  what can you say?  Sorry?  That sucks?  None of those things seem right.  Certainly, none of them help.

I have to help myself.  I have to stop the damaging thoughts.  I have to remember that this is out of my hands and I have years left.  I can spend those years freaking out about losing my shit or I can spend them having as much fun as I can possibly have .  I chose the second.

I don’t have to worry about damaging my brain..  it’s doing that all on it’s own.  That is freeing.

Here is the thing.  I don’t want anyone who reads this to get to the point that I was at.  Maybe this will make you cry.  Maybe it will blow your mind, or maybe you already knew.  Either way, DO NOT let this make you suicidal.  First of all, it’s a lot harder than you think to commit suicide.  Secondly, it is selfish as hell and you should look forward to the times ahead.  It can be happy.  You can have fun..  you just have to figure out how fun can happen around your symptoms.

I have noticed when my brain fog is bad I am easier on myself about it.  Fuck it..  I forgot words, or that I had something cooking in the oven..  at least I am still functional..  if not highly functional..  I still got it.

Never forget that every single day counts.  I have had writers block because this is the story that wanted to come out. I had to write and share this because we should all know everything we can possibly know about this fucking shit we call fibromyalgia.

I didn’t want to write this, because I don’t want to do to someone what I did to myself.  Please don’t go there.  I won’t say some shit like, “you have so much to live for” because let’s be honest, it sucks to live with this shit.  On the other hand, I love my life and you can love yours too, you simply have to work it.  Do what you can when you can.

Change your expectations of yourself.  You aren’t the same and it is okay.  You rock just like you are and all you have to do is let yourself know that.

I love you all and please feel free to message me if you wanna chat.

 

 

Are You A Useless Lump of Skin and Bones? I’m Sure as Shit NOT.

Standard
Are You A Useless Lump of Skin and Bones?  I’m Sure as Shit NOT.

This particular piece is about what I have learned concerning, well, learning.  You see.. As most of you warriors know our bodies are broken.  Our abilities to do almost everything are gone.  Leaving us a seemingly useless lump of skin, bones, and fat.  I decided a while ago that I was going to fight that every damn step of the way.  I fight it every day, but I relish the fight and I am strong like an ox because of it.

I had to let go of a few things.  My pride, for one.  When you are in the middle of a crowd and you are going down because your legs won’t hold your weight any longer.. well you got to laugh that off.  My husband and I make jokes when this happens.  We say “it’s happening” like the bride in Bridesmaids movie when she shit in the street.  It makes us laugh and it makes everyone else figure that we are just drunken idiots.  I had to stop caring.

We all do this, we all say “I don’t care what people think of me” but then deep down inside we totally care.  I used to lie about it all the time.  Once I got fibro and it got worse..  it stole my life.. it stole my happiness, it ruined everything.

THEN, then.. that is the moment when I truly realized that my suffering gave me a pass.  I don’t have to give two shits what anyone thinks of me.  I LIVE in pain.  My life is pain.  If you don’t like me then you can piss right off.  It’s a freedom unlike any I have known before.  It’s a huge step in learning how to make your life the best it can be now.

Tips For The Family

I have written some about family.  Husbands, kids etc.  How to deal with them is as important as how you deal with your personal stuff that is just about you.

Concerning your family, like I said before, unless they ask you just continue about your day as you were, don’t talk about how you feel (this will create a strength unlike anything you can imagine)..  However, this is an extra tip. They know that you are sick, tell them something positive or funny..  even if you are flat on your back on the couch.

Add little things to what you do.  For example, I stopped all housework, it hurts.  So, I did some dishes one day.  Didn’t point it out.  But they notice, and they appreciate it AND it is proof that you are trying.  It doesn’t have to be housework, there will be moments for you to try something you thought you could no longer do.

Try it.  I am crafting again.  Painting, writing, moving around more, pinterest is your friend, make some stuff that you like looking at.  DO NOT create for anyone but yourself.  Make what YOU like to look at.  It helps build character and you learn things about yourself.  Maybe you end up making awesome stuff and you can hang it on your wall etc.

WARNING…  Sometimes you really literally cannot do a thing, but that doesn’t matter.. what matters is that you tried. Do not hurt yourself, that is NOT what I mean here.

People who have chronic pain avoid doing things because it hurts.. sometimes we can do a different version of a thing and still feel a sense of pride and accomplish what we thought we never would again.

This is not just for show either, this is growth within you.  This is you trying.

The final anecdote I have today is this one.  I have a game on my phone that I played for a couple of years straight.  Whenever I was waiting or whatever.  I have logged an embarrassing number of hours playing this game.

I stopped for a few months.  Actually, 6 months..  stopped playing for that long.  I just started again and I am using a totally different strategy than I did before.  I mean, it is like a different game, I am playing that differently.  I am winning a lot more.  The new strategy should have been my strategy all along.

These are chairs that were baby blue, so I painted them…

11898867_10207822726872391_2890083582997081056_n

11873748_10207822726552383_1410957830245677955_n

You are probably wondering why the hell I am talking about a game.  Well, the thing is..  the strategy part.  It fits with the points I try to make with you warriors.  Give yourself some time.  Think about what you used to do.  Cry it out if you have to..  then try it again with a whole new strategy and you never know what you might end up finding that you can do.

D is for Disabled

Standard

I have been remiss in my writing lately.  I attend school and it has been really tough lately.  I keep telling myself it’s because the classes are more difficult (which is true) but I also know that my thinking and logic are pretty broken.  For the new people reading this; know that I write from my fibromyalgia brain.  The sentences might run on, or not.  I may use the wrong word or seem really random.  I write for folks with fibro so I write FOR them by not trying to have perfect structure or grammar. I type what is in my brain and that seems to work.  I want to reach a large audience and I know how difficult it is for me to read long paragraphs. I very much want to get the the point, eventually.

Today I am talking about flare ups and disability.  <— there, a thesis.  Yes, I also try for the occasional giggle.

I am writing this today for two audiences.  I am teaming up with a new friend that has RA.  Her name is Allyssa Marie.  Fibro warriors have a lot in common with people that have RA.  Hell, we have a lot in common with anyone who is in pain all the time.  No one else can understand and for that I am glad, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

Now, I also like to keep my paragraphs short and to the point, this is a Fibro thing.  So once again, structure suffers a little bit, but I want everyone who reads this to find it easy and informative read.  I wanted to start this post with some information about fibromyalgia flares.  I know that warriors with RA also flare up.  What I don’t know is if it is like our flare ups, or if it is different.

See, last week I was having a huge flare.  I was miserable and I couldn’t think in a sentence, let alone speak in sentences.  That one is what I call my thinking flare, it is usually accompanied by some burning on my skin and a feeling like my hair is growing.

I have another flare up and this is the one I call my physical flare.  This is what I am suffering right now, since yesterday.  It took me several tries to get out of bed.  My hands feel like they are going to blow up at any second.  My head feels the same, my vision is blurry, and I am working up the energy to take a badly needed shower because, yes, I put them off because they make me so tired.

It sucks so bad to get out of bed when it hurts to move.  However, a bit of advice?  I learned that staying in bed unless I am sleeping or getting lucky is not a good idea, no matter how badly you want to stay. It is called sleep hygiene and you have to force yourself to stay out of bed.  I promise, it sounds like torture but it is not.  It takes a while, and some nights I don’t even try, but it does really work.  I break the rules at times and take a nap but only if I am falling asleep where I stand, which brings me to the third type of flare.

This flare up is so intense in involves every muscle, nerve ending, ache, pain, and a feeling like your skin is on fire.  Those flares are so intense the only thing to do is lay down, you are not capable of anything else.  Which brings me to my next topic…  disability.

I belong to a lot of groups on Facebook and every single day I see people getting really excited because they have been given disability.  I am happy for them, but I thought that I could do this.  I thought that I could accomplish something.  I wasn’t wrong, but I am disabled.

I was a heroin addict 15 years ago for about three months.  Luckily I stayed off opiates easily after that, even with fibro.  However, I had to come out to my mom and everyone else I loved.  I had to say, “I am a heroin addict”.  I thought those would be the worst thing I would ever have to admit about myself out loud.  I was so very wrong.

Having to say yes, I am disabled, I need help.  I need some income. That was the hardest thing I have ever admitted. Saying  “I am disabled” still makes my stomach hurt.  My family has suffered greatly because I was no longer able to work.  It still took 4 years to get a diagnosis.  I know that I will get it this time.  My heart is broken.  I was a dancer, a ballerina.  I was a cheerleader in high school.  Now I can barely get into the bleachers to watch my son be the drum major.

It is interesting on my paperwork for disability they asked me where I hurt.  I laughed and laughed.  Everywhere, is what I answered.  Then it asked me several more times, in different ways, and every single answer was everywhere and always.  So, I even got to laugh a bit while I was filling it out.  Knowing though, owning, the title of disabled is a crushing blow.  I know that I am.  I knew that I was a drug addict.  This does not make it easier to say.

I used to work at the PA Renaissance faire putting women into corsets.  I loved it.  I loved making women beautiful.  I also had to quit there.  I want to go and see all my friends that still work there and I am wondering if one can rent a hoverround.  I couldn’t even make it to the front gate without needing to rest.

1459660_743385039024513_1976018225_n

These things could all bring me down.  These things could all make me want to quit..  to give up. However, these things only make me want to work harder.  No one and I mean NO ONE and NOTHING can change the way that I live but I am the only one in charge of my brain.

I choose happiness over misery.  I choose to laugh when I know I need to.  I choose life, no matter that I have to crawl sometimes..  I choose to live my best life.  I also choose to be happy.  You have the power, in your brain, to control your own destiny.  It isn’t gone, nothing important is gone.  It’s simply different and we just have to learn to love ourselves when our settings are on “different”.

It is so damn hard to try and explain what it is like when your brain and mouth refuse to work together.  I have worked for years to make my sons and my husband understand.  They finally do.  Want to know how I made that miracle happen?  I stopped trying to explain myself.

I didn’t hide anything (except the pain, we all do that) I just existed.  I stopped trying to make them understand and I started to live my best life in a whole new way.  I interacted with them and if I struggled to find words, I didn’t explain, I just make up words.  They will eventually learn your language. This new method, the one where we exist and let them watch, works.  It takes a lot of patience and a long time, but you will get there.  If I can do it anyone can.

For my words, when I lose them, conversation goes something like this :”Are we going to the field thingy to watch Rudolpho Hans play running ball?”  Which translates to, “Are we going to the stadium to watch the Saints play football?”  I know that first one was mostly inane gibberish.  However, I got A sentence out.  They will start to learn your language, I promise.

This just happened…  an example of my speech issues: in a text to my husband, “Except smokes.  The shenanigans cigs.  No… Monrovia..  dammit.. Morgan…  Fuck it.  Those cheap ones” That was my text to my husband.

I know that I should quit…  that isn’t why I shared this.  I shared this because it is real life..  My life…  Maybe yours too.  The cigs are Mavericks, I finally thought of it.  I really have to laugh..  this is funny.  I should write children’s books, I am excellent at coming up with fun, meaningless, quirky words.  They are easier than regular language most people use to communicate.

Warriors and new friends with RA it has been a pleasure to write some words for you all, maybe I can help a couple people.  Remember, always, LIVE, LOVE, and FIGHT ..  We got this.

Friends, Please Read. I Remember, Then I Broke, I Miss My Life.. I Want You Back

Standard
Friends, Please Read. I Remember, Then I Broke, I Miss My Life..  I Want You Back

I am 39 years old.  I have two sons, who I had when I was still young.  They are 17 and 18 years old.  I remember that feeling, when I was young and married to an Army guy..  I remember when the grocery store was my “get out of the house” card.  I always felt slighted because I wanted to do the fun stuff the other people my age were doing.

Now I am more than happy to only leave the house in a weeks time to go to Walmart.  With fibromyalgia everything is more difficult, going out nearly takes an act of congress.  Putting on a bra nearly does me in these days.

I have friends and I am afraid to hang out with them because I am afraid that they won’t like the new me.  I am so much different, I am scared to lose them as friends.  I miss them so much.  But the fear of losing them forever keeps me away.

They live far away, so it isn’t that difficult to maintain contact on the internet..  Because then I show them what I want them to see.  I don’t want to be dishonest, but I am fucking terrified that none of you will like me anymore.

I found occasional help with the boys and I have had a great life, but I remember…  I remember saying to my husband, “yeah you think that going to Walmart counts as an outing” and at the time I remember..  It didn’t count, I struggled for a long time.

Incredibly bored and lonely, this was before internet, this was before cell phones.  I remember that I was different and I could walk and I could think and I had friends; some of which are still my friends, from afar, because I am fucking terrified that they won’t like who I have become.

I could keep up with my boys.  I got lucky there.  I stayed healthy while they grew.  Healthy enough to really make up for how shitty I was in the beginning.  Then I was 30 and I had to re-evaluate.  I remember when I felt like I had it all.

boys

I remember getting a manager job at Walmart, where I literally walked miles every single day.  I remember thinking even though the job was sort of shitty, I had it all.  I was able to camp all weekend with my family.

I remember.   I remember having rough times, with drugs, with myself, with my marriage.  I fought and struggled and we fixed our marriage, I fixed how I was with my kids..  I still didn’t think it counted as a trip out when all I was doing was going to Walmart.  But I was happy.  I was happy and I didn’t take it for-granted..  thank the light for that.

Tammie_7

I spent many years content.

I couldn’t wait to hang out at the Happy Hippy Haven every single weekend.  During those parties I never had a bed, I was able to sleep on the floor, or not sleep, which was often the case.  However, I had the time of my life.

IMG_0042

I remember watching my kids grow and that will forever be the best accomplishment I am likely to make.  They are beautiful people who are going to make the world a better place and I am more proud of that achievement than anything else I can imagine for myself.

So, I worked..  I was there for three years.  They were pretty great.  We had money.  We finally found an awesome rental house.  Things were going our way.  I even went and I bought a brand new Kia.

Then I started feeling like my lower back was numb, and I would get horrible shooting pains.  Then I remember hanging some shirts above my head and holding my arm up seemed to be harder and harder every day, and this really scared me because it was summer, the stuff was not heavy.

I remember when a co-worker made a joke and tapped me on my arm and it HURT, and it hurt for a really long time.  I knew that day that something was seriously wrong.  I felt in my gut that this was the beginning of something.

I remember when I used to take comfort in a shower.  I remember when I could hang out with my friends.  I remember when I could dance and spin records.  I wish so very much that I could forget, because even as I type it brings tears to my eyes.  I miss my life.  I miss my friends.

I have spent the last few years figuring out who I am, with this life altering disorder.  My whole life is different.  Everything is different.  I love getting to go to Walmart once a week.  I am really good at being happy with what I have.

I fucking want more.  I want to see more of my friends.  I want to try more stuff.  I miss my life, but I will be damned if I lose another second of living to this fucked up monster that lives in my brain.

15 - 1

Please text me friends.  I miss you.  I want you to decide for yourself if you still want to hang out.  Having a few left is so much better than closing myself off to all of you.  I get it if I am too much..  but I will not give up without trying.

Live, Love, and fight like a girl ❤

Never say You’re Sorry

Standard
Never say You’re Sorry

The snow storm has hit.  I don’t feel much better than I did yesterday, but a little.  We got the card game Cards Against Humanity.  I played last night with my family.  It is a hilarious game.  Not politically correct, but hilarious.  At any rate, my pain got to the point that I was yelling out when a particularly hard pain hit me.

I kept yelling out then apologizing.  I realized there is no reason in the world that I should apologize.  Even guests in my home have to accept that this is part of what goes on in my home.  I tried to put it into words in the following video that I recorded, but I was having a hard time with words.

I am still having a hard time with words but the thing is, sometimes you can’t help it, and a sorry comes out.  I simply don’t want warriors feeling worse about an already horrible condition.  I would never suggest you be rude, but use apologies for when they are truly called for.  You should never apologize for being ill or needing breaks or yelling out when one of THOSE pains hits us.

I have made it clear with my family that if I yell HELP I need them.  Otherwise, the symphony of sound coming from me should be ignored.  I promised them that if I need it I will yell HELP.

Don’t apologize for your pain, just deal with it how you do.

Now, I saw a post on my page called Fibromyalgia can be Funny, in this post warriors are talking about how they wish that it was just the pain, that it is the rest of the shit that comes with fibro that makes it so horrible.

I have read every response and in my mind the whole time I am thinking about when this nasty shit started..  I would never have imagined thinking that the pain was the lesser of the evils that attack me with this disorder.

I am amazed that this is now the truth.  I want to remember things.  I want to feel like I slept when I wake up.  I want to be able to have a normal conversation on a telephone with the lady at my Dr.’s office.

I, like most of the warriors in my group, would take the constant pain over all the other shit.  Brain fog, forgetting, remembering to forget, lists, piles of shit that I mean to clean up every single day and I never manage to get to it.

All this is changing our entire life.  I am not the same person I was before this started.  I have worked hard to get where I am.  I am constantly working on myself.  I find the things I feel need worked on and that is my focus.  Little mini “me projects” that help me get to know this new version of myself and live the fullest life possible.

Remember, Live, Love, and fight..  or nap..  if that is what you need.

Family Love, Hate, Pain and Fibromyalgia..

Standard
Family Love, Hate, Pain and Fibromyalgia..

Knowing that your blood relations think you are a giant ass hole is one thing.  Hearing from someone that I AM what they talk about, daily, is a whole other ball game.  My heart wants to break, but I am here with family that lives 15 hours away, but I get to spend a whole week surrounded by unconditional love.  One of them reminded me that it is most certainly their problem pointed out how much power I have because I am what they talk about.

So instead of a broken heart I have fingers to type with.  I have no contact with any of them.  I have blocked them from my Facebook.  I am a liberal hippy living in a republican, redneck, Amish area..  and the people that hurt me the most.  The people that have the most to say about me..  well they are the ones that are related.

10300206_10152527426955382_632318072706668489_n

I have done nothing to earn their ire.  Apparently everything I post everywhere gets shown around and talked about.

This news has caused me to flare pretty spectacularly.  My mind though, that is calm.  If they would only not call my children little fuckers.  If only they just hated me.  We moved here so that my kids could grow up with extended family around and it has turned into a nightmare for my kids and my husband.

We moved a few years ago so that we literally live within a mile of them, yes, all of them.  I haven’t done a thing.  Years ago when the fibro started to get worse; I wrote a scathing post on facebook and I said some things that were not fair.  I apologized.  Since then, I have barely spoken to them, let alone done something so awful that I am what they talk about.  I am what they fill their days with..  Honestly, that is fucking hilarious.  It makes me sad for them that I am how they fill their hours.

That said, I have left them alone.  I talk about being hurt by my family..  I have been hurt..  so hurt.  I used to talk about them turning their backs when I needed them the most.  It hurt so much that they thought I was such a piece of shit that I was faking an disorder that has ruined my life and the lives of my children and my husband.

I don’t talk about them, except with my husband and those conversations go something like this..  “Blah Blah, they said this today”  “?????….?????” “that is just insane”..  I am not afraid to say the wrong thing in anything that I post, but as hard as I try I cannot escape the things that they say, people tell me what they say.

I ignore them because I know they make me flare.  Yet, no matter how I try things get back to me.  Horrible things about me and my kids.

As I write this I go back and forth from being hurt to not giving into what I feel.  I think about them calling my son a little fucker and I want to tear shit apart.  These are wasted emotions.  I must allow them to wash through me..  I have to feel them.  Holding that shit in will give you cancer (in my opinion).

I tell all my readers, warriors to let it go.  You are better than this.  You have so much worth, don’t let people who think nothing of hurting your soul do exactly that.  I have to let this go.  This is another one of those lessons that we are doomed to repeat.

When a child is developing, which is when all these family members were kind to me, it sticks in your schemas.  It makes you seek their approval, even when you are an adult and it is the last thing you want to do.

It is part of you..  part of your brain..  you love them..  you want their love, like you remember..  But they not only turn their backs, sometimes they continue to say horrible things about you and your family.  This can be so incredibly painful, one of the hardest things to deal with when the fibro monster hits.

Just know, once again, you are not alone.  When your disorder is invisible you find out who truly loves you and who is going to be a source of some of the worst pain you have ever felt.

We WILL continue to LIVE LOVE and FIGHT the pain…  Try to let it go…  don’t give in and let them get what every bully wants, and that is a reaction.

Falling Down and Getting Back on the Horse (at least your own feet)

Standard
Falling Down and Getting Back on the Horse (at least your own feet)

Why do I keep talking about fibro and all the things that come with it?  Well because people are reading it..  and I feel so alone.  These words on my screen are me, reaching out to the masses and talking to someone.

I know we aren’t having a cuppa and chatting it out in a cafe, but someone reads my words, and that means that I visit many people, all over the world.  I haven’t posted in a while.  I hit a rock bottom.

If you are newly diagnosed, or recently having symptoms you will learn quickly that literally, minute to minute your whole universe can change.  I have been walking around in the store when BAM, I have to take a knee.  It happens that fast.

I get these stabbing pains that make me yell out.  These are things, though, that one gets used to.  I am used to going down in stores, wherever.  I am used to having shooting pains that are so intense they make me yell out.

I attend school online.  I won’t go into specifics, except to say that my son wrecked my car at the worst possible moment..  but also the best because I had my school money so that we could fix one vehicle and have a working car for my husband to drive to work.

That being said, I did not know that the school wanted that money back.  NOW.  It is a stipend and supposed to be used to get stuff that I need for classes ie; a new computer because the kitty did the cha cha on my old laptop.  However, what they failed to tell me was that if I didn’t send them the money immediately they were going to put my education on hold.

I made my payments, like I have been for two years…  I was not late on a payment…  the man on the phone said “we cannot make you send us your stipend”…  however, in one week, my education got put on hold because I didn’t send them the money they told me over and over again that I didn’t have to.

See, they can’t legally make me send them the money back, but they can put my education on hold until I satisfy some bullshit rules.  It’s horrible.  I had no warning.  BAM I was out of school and the one thing..  my thing..  The thing I used to make FMS bearable is suddenly gone.  No warning.  WHAM.

It threw me for a loop…  I hit a rock bottom.  I stopped writing, I stopped making little crafts.  I was done in.  I was so sad and angry.  I hate not working towards my goal to graduate with a bachelor in soc and psych.

I hate it still, but today I woke up and it was not the first thing I thought about; which is good because that is a bad start to the day when I get auto sad..  Sad before I have a chance to talk myself out of being sad.  Today though, is different.  I am going to make a mess with some paint..  who knows?  Maybe I will make a masterpiece today..

I will probably just make a mess.  My point here in this post is this..  We all get knocked down.  Whether literally or figuratively now and then.  I texted my husband yesterday and said that I can’t see my way out.  I thought about it a lot last night.  Baby steps is what I would tell my friends, if this happened to them.  Take small steps to do things that will make you happy.

Today I shall paint and make a lovely fairy house..  I will post pictures in this post and on Facebook..  maybe.  If it is awful..  screw it..  I will still post pics…

Readers, thank you for existing and making it so that I don’t feel all alone.  My friends, you know who you are, I don’t know what I would do without these outlets.  Warriors, live, laugh, and love…  and I promise, even if you cry for a week and feel like you wanna jump off a bridge, if you live, love and laugh you will make it, and you will find happier days for yourself and those around you.