Your cart is currently empty!
One Day at a Time: Navigating Life with Fibromyalgia
“I survived another day.” That’s my nightly mantra as I tuck myself into bed. Some evenings, I feel like I’ve run a marathon; other nights, I’m just mildly drained. Yet, I know that when I finally drift off to sleep, it won’t last long. A long night of tossing and turning awaits me, and all I can do is power through.
Every morning kicks off the same way — with pain. Before my partner even rolls out of bed, sometimes even before the sun rises and the birds begin their morning serenade, there’s that familiar heaviness. On a good day, I just feel achy, but on bad days, it’s like I’m battling full-blown arthritis. Every joint moans and protests with every little movement. It’s relentless, trying to break my spirit, but I refuse to let it win.
For quite a while, I lived in denial about my fibromyalgia. It felt like a trivial diagnosis, and I kept pushing my doctor to run more tests, convinced there had to be something else wrong with me. I was adamant she was mistaken. But it wasn’t until I had my first flare-up that reality hit me hard: I have fibromyalgia, and this is the hand I’ve been dealt.
One fateful weekend, my partner and I decided to stroll down the boardwalk in Ocean City. It was April, and the chill in the air pierced right through me. I fought against the cold, determined to enjoy our kid-free getaway. I pushed myself too hard, and by dinnertime, my symptoms escalated. My appetite vanished, and the thought of food made me queasy. I forced down a few bites, crafting excuses for my lack of appetite. That night, I lay awake, my body vibrating with pain, nothing providing relief.
Upon our return home, I realized I couldn’t continue living like this. My kids had grown accustomed to the fact that Mom isn’t always able to do everything. They’ve seen me curled up on the couch, tears streaming down my face, powerless against the pain. They help as much as they can, often taking on more than they should.
But I’m their mother. I want to run with them, take them on park adventures, and swim without feeling like I’ve been hit by a freight train the next day. That’s what fuels my anger and determination. This isn’t the life I envisioned for myself, but it’s the reality I face.
I used to be the mom who took her kids on hikes, rode bikes, and played sports. We were a whirlwind of activity. Now, I have twin boys who create chaos and expect me to keep up. Some days I manage, letting household chores slide as we relive our glorious, active days. We might not have tidy laundry tomorrow, but we sure had a blast today. Every day presents a choice between obligations and desires. I’ve come to grips with the fact that I can’t do it all — those days are behind me.
Now, I meticulously track my activities and meals. I take a medley of supplements and medications that only dull the pain. I’ve had to accept that pain-free days might be a distant memory. Honestly, I’ve lived with this condition for so long that I can’t recall what it feels like to be pain-free and that thought is frightening.
It terrifies me to think about reaching a breaking point. There have been days when the pain was overwhelming, and I silently pleaded, “Please, just make it stop.” Yet, I rise again, pushing myself further because I have a family relying on me. Giving up isn’t an option. I refuse to let this condition define me.
As I climb back into bed each night, I remind myself, “You made it through another day.”
Summary
Living with fibromyalgia presents daily challenges, from waking up with relentless pain to balancing family life. Despite the struggles, the author finds strength in her family and determination to not let the condition dictate her life. Each day is a mix of choices, confronting the reality of living with chronic pain while cherishing moments of joy.