Fibromyalgia isn’t normally a word that I would associate with friendship; in fact, on most days I’d more accurately compare the disease with the devil. Having Fibromyalgia means a lot of things for the way I live my life; it mostly brings me crushing pain, awkward movement, sloth-like energy, severe depression and major bouts of anxiety.
It’s easy to wallow in the negative when you have a chronic disease that doesn’t offer any hope for the days ahead. I often find myself doing just that: pining for better days, remembering who I was before, dreading the 40 years that taunt me from the future. Fibromyalgia can easily become an epic sized pity party if I am so inclined; no planning, organizing or guests involved.
What I am coming to realize about Fibromyalgia though is that it has forced me to take a long, hard, and honest look at my life and reinvent the aspects that weren’t satisfactory.
I no longer live with a man who made his family feel terrible and worthless about themselves. I no longer drive 2 hours a day, to and from a job I felt no passion for. I no longer pretend that my kids will eventually just be alright or that all the aggravation in life would suddenly disappear. My days aren’t filled with overwhelming stress and my nights are no longer spent in fear.
Fibromyalgia has forced me the opportunity to slow down and appreciate all in life that really matters. For all that Fibro has taken away from me, it has in return provided me with a unmeasurable amount of insight and strength. Fibro has thrown in my face all of what was wrong in my world and gifted me with the courage to make it right.
The knowledge I have of myself is now incredible and there is an undeniable joy felt in discovering who I am as an individual. My growing confidence as a parent has a wonderful effect on my kids and the home environment, our relationships have flourished and I no longer carry around a deep guilt that I might be failing them. I am now able to pursue my life long dream of becoming a writer and for the first time in my life I am in love with what I do. I have a fresh perspective on the world and enjoy the beautiful things that money can’t buy like the sunshine, the feeling of comfort and the sounds of genuine laughter.
Living with Fibromyalgia means wearing the heaviest of armor in an exhausting uphill battle. I am thankful for the ability to look back on all the excessive weapons I’ve already left behind. This renews my strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other and continue climbing to the top. I feel certain that if I hadn’t acquired this disease I’d still be collecting and carrying weapons, just chugging along, and blindly losing the more defeating and terribly damaging battle that once was my way of life.
