Friday, December 2, 2011


We're in shackles.
It's what we carry with us always.

I'll never forget the day I went to the neurologist and she suspected Fibromyalgia. She wanted me to get a brain MRI to rule out MS. I was terrified and got the results of the tests before she did. It was negative for any lesions on the brain so MS was ruled out. She told me that she almost wished I had it so it would be better defined than what I was going to be stuck with. It was said with a sense of defeat because she knew the battles that people with Fibromyalgia face. Believe me, I'm not minimizing MS by any stretch of the imagination but there is better funding for research and it has the backing of the full faith and credit of the medical community.

I felt like the world was closing in on me. In one sense it was. I've never been real fond of change and the changes that were happening because of a car accident and subsequent diagnosis of Fibromyalgia were truly life changing. 

I don't do real well with that.

I'm not a real open person. I've always been very, very private. I guess you could say that unless you know me real well, you don't really know me. The persona is solid and it's very difficult to let people in. I know I have issues and little by little I deal with them. I'd never be labeled "the great communicator."

Instead of hiding from my fears, I've basically asked them to tea.

I've accepted certain things about myself. What happened in the past is just that. I can't do anything about the past but I can certainly do something about my reactions to those triggers. That's probably one of the best things that I can say about being shackled by Fibromyalgia. It's opened me up to a medium where I'm forced to reveal me. It's absolutely mind boggling to me that I've been able to write about issues and fears. Not only can I write about them, I have no hesitation about posting these articles. I've discovered a great deal about myself and I've tapped into a creative side that I kept inside for so long.

I'll probably never be thankful that a car accident brought chaos and havoc to my life but maybe one day I will. I guess I'll never know until that day comes. What I can say is that no matter what door gets slammed shut I believe that God will open a window. Even on the days where I'm curled up in pain I know that I have a life purpose. Knowing that I can touch someones life, even one person's life, is a true joy.

I'm trying to convince myself of finding that joy deep inside right now. The humidity is 44% and snow is actually predicted for the higher end of town where I live. There were high wind warnings and some of the wind gusts were actually hurricane strength. Yesterday it was almost 70 degrees and today there was snow. 

So after all of this, what does it mean?

For me it means that I still feel shackled and chained by the pain and fatigue that accompanies this invisible disease. I still feel that I have limitations on my body and limitations on what I am able to do on a daily basis. I still feel like a real old lady at times with the creaks and pops that my body makes. I still feel like I've been hit with a baseball bat when the muscles spasms start in my legs. 


As much as I feel shackled and chain I also know that I hold the key to my survival. I can make choices that will help with the management of pain. I can write and keep my emotional health on the upswing as well as my physical health. Anyone with a chronic illness needs to find sustenance to guide you through the pain, fatigue, disappointment and frustration that seems to follow us around. So, see the lock that keeps the chains wrapped tightly around us? We can turn the key. It may not get rid of all of them but at least we are the one that holds the key.

It's a good thing that I had brothers.

And that one of them taught me how to pick a lock.

Just sayin...........