Sunday, October 7, 2012

Living with through despite having fibromyalgia.

It is always with you, even when you are feeling fairly good. It never quite totally disappears.

 It reminds you, often, that it is there, just under the surface, waiting to reach out and grab you.

I thought it was a fibro flare, but now it is getting to be a full blown fire.

It is that time, and I have been grabbed and shaken and left to battle my way through the effects, and try to keep up with the things I want and need to do

I am tired all the time. It is not a good kind of tired, like one might feel after a hard day's work, or after running a race, but rather a nagging fatigue that causes me to drag myself from one thing to another. There is no resting up, or getting a good night's sleep to rectify this.

To others I look a little tired, but that's all. There is no cast, or bandage or any other tell tale sign that something is wrong. I may walk slower, or limp a bit, depending on my legs, but it isn't that noticeable, except to my girls. There are the muscle aches and pains, the tender spots, which if touched hurt so much, the headache which is almost always present, the itchiness that has no visible cause. My brain does not talk well to my muscles and nerve endings.

Fibromyalgia is a complicated condition. It is a rheumatic disorder, and there is no cure. FM sufferers are all different in the way the syndrome manifests itself. The cause of fibro is not really known, nor the reasons for a flare.

So why am I writing about this today? Perhaps because it is hanging heavy on my shoulders right now.

It is Thanksgiving time, and I am thinking of the things I am thankful for.
I was listening to a radio program on the CBC this morning, and there was a replay of a documentary on Raylene Rankin. For those who don't know, she was a founding member of the Cape Breton group, The Rankins. She sang so beautifully, especially a song called Rise Again. On the program, she spoke about coming to terms with having cancer, and having it return, and seeking out what was important in her life. She succumbed to the cancer and passed away last week.
One of the things she said jumped right out at me. "accept the road taken", and how she had learned to do that.

Four words, and the wisdom that is found in them.

I suppose that everyone of us has struggles and difficulties in life as we go along the road taken. But, once on that road, there is no turning around and trying to start again. Perhaps we might wish that we had taken a different road in the beginning, but then all the wonderful things that have happened to you, would have been missed. The road is long and winding, going up hill and into valleys, and full of potholes and detours, and ruts, but there is smooth pavement too. The potholes help you appreciate the smooth pavement.

I guess what I am trying to say through all this, is that I need to accept my limitations, when fibro raises it's ugly head, and keep on trucking down the road that I've taken. There's new views ahead, whether it be valley or mountain, and I am thankful.


  1. Thos might be one of my all tome favorite posts you've ever done. Wonderfully put....xoxo

  2. I thought you might be listening to that piece on Sunday...

    It was wonderful to see you, tired legs and all, on Saturday. I hope you are enjoying the beauty of the leaves turning; I know I gain some strength from the crisp air, the subtle mist, and the natural change in the air.
    Love you,

  3. What a wise and beautiful post, Bonnie. I'm so sorry to learn that you suffer from this horrible condition.

  4. I agree with the sentiments above - lovely post. Honest and beautifully written...