A Typical Day (Really?)

Another day. Another challenge.

This is my mantra day in and day out. Everything is a challenge. For those who don't have Fibromyalgia, let me let you in on how the days go by.

Pain. Yep it's everywhere and it's nowhere. It shows up one day in my shoulders and the next in my legs. There is no rhyme or reason to where, when or how bad it will be. So if you see me at the mall one day and using a walker or cane the next, it's not about attention or negativity. It's about making it through the day with whatever help is needed that day.

Forgetfulness: Yep. I have it. Folks with FMS call it "fibrofog." I know I've seen you before, but your name totally escapes me. I can be in the middle of a conversation and forget everything we just talked about. I don't remember words. Writing and speaking can be a huge challenge. I just try not to look stupid or embarrassed. But, when the fog hits, it's hard not to feel like both. Don't roll your eyes at me. Just help me. Throw me a bone. Fill in the blank.

Fatigue: Oh I've got that in spades. And I'm not tired. I'm exhausted. Just walking from the bed to the living room is exhausting. The chronic fatigue wears me out. So if you see me at the park and I "seem fine" I might just be having a good day. Trust me, the next day I might pay for that outing and not be able to get out of bed.

Insomnia: Uh huh. For hours I will lie awake wishing my mind and body would allow me to drift off to slumber land. If you see me on the computer at 3am, it's not because I'm a night owl. And it affects my chronic fatigue every day.

Muscle cramps: I have them every day. So don't be so jealous if I make time every week for a massage or yoga class. It is horribly painful to do, but it is a necessary evil to keep me walking and working.

Shaking: I do. And don't make the "alcoholic" jokes. They're not funny. And it's quite annoying to not be able to hold on to a coffee cup or straighten up the merchandise at work without knocking it all on the floor. Some days I can't even hold a pen or write, but I keep trying. Otherwise, life comes to a screeching halt.

If you're still reading, and I hope you are, this isn't so much a rant on Fibromyalgia. Hey, I get it. I have it. I live with it. I do my dead-level best every day. This is more a rant on the insensitivity of people. The jokes behind the back about the cane and walker, I hear 'em. The comments on how I'm fine one day and not the next, I know they're out there. The marks on my employment record because I must miss work with pain and exhaustion, I hate them.

I don't want to hear how a positive attitude makes it all better. It doesn't. Less stress? I could use that. Support? I could use that. Kindness. I really could use that.

So let's not judge til you walk a mile in someone's shoes, okay?