They say you have to crawl before you walk. Four years ago when I made the decision to
change my life, I had to learn to do everything. I had to learn to sit up, roll over, crawl,
stand, take my first steps…well, you get it.
But after some time, I was in a full on sprint all the time. Nothing could stop me. I had the world in the palm of my tightly
clenched fist and nothing was going to unravel it from my fingers. Or so I thought.
My once brightly lit star is slowly dimming against the
night sky that is currently my everyday life.
The days pass by so fast that I seldom notice the rays of the sun on my
face, because I’m always wishing for the darkness to come so I can close my
eyes and shut out the noise of the world around me. The rumbling is like thunder in my ears all
the time. The tears like a never ending
rain shower all around me. The things
that once made me so happy are now the things I avoid. My daily runs replaced by evenings in front
of the TV mindlessly ignoring the glare of the TV in front of me. My once loved yoga practice now a distant
memory as I stretch and yawn myself into my yoga pants, only to count down the
hours until I can crawl under my blankets and rest my aching head on my pillow. My once able body is now on fire, screaming
in agony, fighting my every movement, forcing me through every second of every
day. A moment of reprieve doesn’t seem
to be anywhere in sight.
The people I love – they’re supportive. But, I can almost hear the sighs and
eyerolling as each new doctor’s appointment reveals some new annoyance, yet
they remain supportive nonetheless. I
wake up every day hopeful that it might be better than the last, but the
moments of joy come few and far between.
I avoid social situations, anything that requires me to force a smile,
anything that requires me to answer the everyday question “How are you
doing?” I would rather engulf myself in
some TV reality series so I can invest myself in someone else’s life and ignore
my own, even if only for a little while.
I’m not sure what I spend more time doing these days –
reflecting on what my life has become or deflecting from the reality I’m too
afraid to face. I want to feel normal
again. I want to be happy again. I want to remember why I lost all this weight
and got “healthy”. I want to be a good
wife, and mother and friend and daughter and sister. I want to be ME again. But I am lost behind this porcelain mask with
a painted smile that is quickly fading against the sunlight. I’m becoming almost non-existent.
If my life were the directions on a shampoo bottle it would
read:
Wake up. Shower. Remember to nod and pretend to pay
attention. Smile. Go to sleep.
Rinse and repeat.
Some days I can barely walk.
Some days my eye balls hurt to even be in my skull. Some days I want to rip my head off my neck
and throw it in the garbage disposal because it hurts so badly. And no one seems to be able to fix me. No one seems to LISTEN to me. And every time they fix one thing, something
else is fucked. It makes it hard to find
the light at the end of this very long tunnel.
I’m driving on a thruway in a broken down jalopy of a vehicle, running
out of gas and there are no rest stops or exits in sight.
This pity party is lonely.
Depression is the devils mistress.
She is a wretched bitch who only takes and never gives anything in
return, aside from more pain and depression.
Fibromyalgia is like a jackhammer that never stops vibrating against
your body. And aside from the physical,
the emotional aspect is what cripples you the most. In the words of Ron Burgundy: Anchorman, “I’m
stuck in a glass cage of emotion!!”.
It’s time to break the glass.
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