“I made it through another day.” This is my nightly mantra as I settle into bed. Some nights, I say it with utter exhaustion; other nights, I feel a bit more energetic. Yet, I know that sleep will be fleeting, and I mentally prepare for the long night ahead.
Each morning greets me with the same unwelcome companion: pain. Often before my partner even rises from bed, and sometimes even before dawn breaks, I feel it. It’s a heavy sensation that pulls me down. On days when I’m fortunate, I simply experience an all-over ache, but on tougher days, it’s as if every joint is protesting with relentless throbbing. This pain wants to conquer me, but I refuse to yield.
For a significant period, I lived in denial about my fibromyalgia. It felt like a label that didn’t truly fit—almost too simplistic. I urged my doctor to run more tests, believing there had to be another explanation for my struggles. It wasn’t until my first flare-up that reality struck hard. I had fibromyalgia, and I had to embrace this truth.
One unforgettable day, my partner and I were walking along the boardwalk in Ocean City. It was April, and there was still a crispness in the air that seemed to seep into my bones. Despite my discomfort, I wanted to cherish our child-free weekend together. I pushed myself too far, and by dinner, my symptoms escalated. My appetite vanished; even the thought of food made me nauseous. I forced myself to eat a little, concocting excuses for my lack of appetite. That night, I lay awake, my entire body pulsating with pain, unable to find relief.
Upon returning home, I realized I had to make a change. I was weary of this relentless cycle. My kids had adapted to the reality that their mom couldn’t always keep up. They’ve seen me curled up on the couch, tears streaming down my face, wishing the pain would just vanish. They do their best to help, sometimes even more than they should.
But as their mother, I long for the days when I could run alongside them in the park or swim without succumbing to exhaustion. This longing fuels my determination. This isn’t the life I envisioned, but it is the life I have, and I refuse to let it defeat me.
I once thrived as the adventurous mom—hiking, biking, and enjoying sports with my twin boys. Now, I cherish the days when I can set aside household chores and relive those moments of joy with them, even if it means we might not have clean clothes tomorrow. Every day presents a choice between responsibilities and the activities I desire to do with my family. I’ve accepted that I can’t do it all—those days are behind me.
Now, I meticulously track my activities and diet, relying on a variety of supplements and medications to dull the pain. I’ve come to terms with the reality that I may never experience a pain-free day again. In fact, I’ve lived with this condition for so long that I can’t recall what it feels like to be without pain, and that thought terrifies me.
I worry about reaching a point where I can no longer cope. I’ve had days when the pain feels unbearable, and I silently plead for relief. Yet, I find the strength to rise again because my family depends on me. I will not give up. I will keep pushing forward.
As I finally slip into bed each night, I remind myself, “You did it. You survived another day.”
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Summary
Living with fibromyalgia is a daily challenge that requires resilience and adaptability. As I navigate the pain and limitations of the condition, I cherish the moments spent with my family, making choices that prioritize joy over obligations. Each day may bring its struggles, but I continue to fight for a life filled with love and connection.