Depression or Reality check?

"I will never let go of

the fight to get well.

I will never let go

of hope that there will

one day be a cure.

I will never let go

of my "survivor" personality.

I will never calmly sit by

and give in to my pain.

I will never let go.

Period."

These words come from Rose. Rose, who always touches me with her words. Rose, who always checks in with me to see how I am doing--even in the middle of a family crisis. If you do not already read Rose, you really must. She gets it. She gets all of it, and she is still fighting.

I truly wish I could say, "Yes me too!", Rose.

But, I can -- not. I am feeling beat down. I have never thought of myself as a "survivor". I have never thought of myself as being strong--except when it comes to fighting for my kids. Do not cross me there.

I am feeling defeated. I have pretty much lost hope. I am holding on to what little hope I have by a thin, thin, worn and weary slip of thread.

I do not like feeling this way, but ... it is what it is.

It has been this way for a while. I don't think it’s my depression. It doesn't feel the same way. It feels like I have just come to face reality. This is my life. I am in constant pain. Pain that adds new body parts daily. A mere tap on the shoulder and I grab for my arm, wincing and trying to rub away the pain. And, the look from the person who just touched me. Puzzlement. Shock and surprise. And, then ... "You have GOT to be kidding!"

I am so tired, just so very, very, tired.

me,

CJ

Is there a point?

I am having those thoughts when I really wonder if its truly worth it anymore. I hurt so much and I can't sleep and I am way past exhausted. The meds barely take the edge off. The side effects of weight gain, excessive perspiration, swollen legs and ankles make me totally miserable and a horrid sight to behold. I am 100 pounds over weight and because of this damn health of mine I can't make a dent. I have tried. I have tried! (That "!" is for the people who give me the look "What a lazy, fat slob with no self control.")

What is the point in living this way? I am barely able to do the stupid little things everyone must do--grocery shopping, going to the bank, paying bills (hopefully on time), laundry. That is it. That is pretty much my life. The rest is spent sitting on the couch watching TV. It hurts to hold the phone up for very long at all, I'm on my 8th or 9th set of head phones. It hurts to hold up a book, a magazine, a newspaper. It hurts too much these days to do this--type or browse on the computer. My neck and shoulders are on fire with pain. My shoulder muscles are hard as a rock, my neck pinches with every move.

What is the point? I am soon to be 56 years old, but I feel 86. I truly think I should stay put and let my husband start a new life in New Orleans. If I suggested it he would say no way, because he is that kind of guy. But if he was honest with himself he would love the opportunity. I am not the person he married, have not been for years. He would not be leaving me, he'd be leaving what I have mutated into.

I hurt in every cell in my body. I have already taken all of the medicine I can. I guess I will go for the ice and heating pad and maybe a rum and coke. Yeah, I know what most of the 24 meds I take say on the bottle. But really, what possible difference could it make?

me
CJ, lost in time

p.s. Don't call the cops. I will not do anything. My son and I live here alone and I would never do that to him.

The best medicine of all...

I am overcome with, I don't know with what!? Words, words won't come to me. I am overwhelmed with incredible feelings of gratitude, with a feeling of healing warmth, and with the feeling that I have been blessed beyond my comprehension and perhaps beyond my worthiness.

I am not sure why I started this blog. I liked playing around with the templates and all at first. I loved being able to read all of the blogs I found while poking around. I could relate so closely with so much of what was written. I decided to try writing a page myself... and along came Rose...who introduced me to Lynn-Marie and Miss Dogkisses. And, I found Jolene, Tamiko, and Naddya. What a huge, huge blessing you have all been to me. I honestly can't begin to thank you enough for all of your kind, uplifting words to me personally and for your sharing of yourselves with all of us who have been fortunate enough to have found your pages.

This is an incredible collection of women who are willing to share their lives, their experiences both positive and negative, their very souls, to others struggling with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue, and many, many other forms of chronic illness. I have gained great insight from these writings and have developed great friendships with these ladies.

I am in awe to be included in a listing of blogs by Jolene, aka gracefulagony. Please visit her blog at gracefulagony.wordpress.com. She lists fifteen blogs that she recommends be checked out. I would list them on my blog, but I haven't figured out how to embed a website on my blog yet(!!). Such a newbie! Anyway, I have read several and they are all so different and informative and worth a read!

So, in case you haven't guessed it by now, YOU are the best medicine! All of you wonderful, kind, and supportive friends who cheer me on and commiserate with me. I could not make it thru some days without you. I wish I was as disciplined as many of you are about writing your blog each day. I know it would help me on days I am really down if I would get on my computer and at least read for awhile. I am always moved and often get a chuckle from someone's blog. Thank you fellow bloggers for all that you do to help so many. I am happy to think I have helped someone, too.

Hugs,
me,
CJ

I could do without it...

I have been feeling kicked around by the universe.

I have experienced, as we all have, the many health "care" people who acknowledge Fibro as though they have a very bad taste in their mouth. Some simply spit it out, as there is no such thing. Some wince at the taste, okay there is some research and some fellow health "care" professionals believe there is something to this syndrome, but it still tastes bitter and makes them gag. Others do the tongue click thing--yeah, yeah you have it, but there is nothing I can do about it. Shuffle, shuffle, scoot, scoot -- me, out the door.

And now I am feeling a pull within the Fibro community. Am I taking an “easy” way out? (Like there is anything “easy” about Fibro!)

I have been feeling a struggle of whether to continue with my choice to use a traditional medicine approach to treat these symptoms of Fibro versus the notion and proposal by some of using a natural means thru yoga, meditation, acupuncture, vitamin and other supplements, getting off all narcotics, and something called “an adrenal fatigue supplement”. I have two people who are telling me they swear by the latter. However, as you probably know, health insurance does not cover any of these non-traditional means. I had a fabulous doctor, a physiatrist, two or so years back that helped me in many ways. However, it came to the point where he said that the only thing else he could do for me was thru non-traditional medicine. And, it was not inexpensive. As a matter of fact it was expensive. My husbands company was shaky at that time and we had two kids in college. You know what I chose.

Well, the financial situation is still not the best, with paying a mortgage on our home and the rent on an apartment for him, plus one kid still in college and me unable to work. So, what to do? Thankfully I have a PC who really is wonderful and supportive. At this time I can NOT imagine managing without the pain medications I take. Period. No question. I have been miserable the last two weeks with them, the thought of giving them up is scary and unbearable to imagine.

Does this make me an addict? Does this make me someone who is “wallowing” in their misery, in their disease? Does this make me lazy? Does this make me a wallowing, lazy, addict?

Today I don’t know. My neck and shoulders hurt so bad I can hardly stand it. The pain in my head feels like hot embers being seared in. I haven’t been writing on my blog because of the pain. And, I miss “venting” and having responses that say “I know what you mean.” “I am sorry you hurt.”

Right now I wish I could take something else for this pain. But, there is nothing left. I will go sit with the ice packs followed by the heating pad (in 95 degree weather!) and pray for some relief.

Does this make me an addict?

I truly don’t know. The emotional pain is unbearable. The physical pain is unbearable. I am watching the clock to see when I can take more drugs. Kinda sounds like an addict to me. Only I guess they wouldn’t watch the clock---they’d just take more…now.

Is that what separates me from the addicts?

What a s---- way to live.

Later,

me

CJ

fire storm or solar flare?

I am in a very, very long, intense flare, or as my sister (who has this nasty thing, too), says "firestorm" (much more accurate, don't you think? Or maybe even "solar flare").

I have been in so much pain for months. There have been no okay days. There have been no not too bad days. There have only been DAMN IT, I HURT days -- for months. I know it is stress. Way too much crap happening all at once. And, its been that way for way too long, too. One frickin' thing after another. Why does it go like this? Why is all of this happening to my family (I include my extended family, we make any soap opera look like Sesame Street)? Other families manage to have dry spells of misery-less-ness (I often make up words - the right ones won't come to me). Why the heck can't we just have one nice week of blissful rut-ness? You know--"I'm in a rut," people lament. They have no idea how lucky they are!

Along with the unending pain is an exhaustion I have never known before. It feels as though I have walked 500 miles. I feel so weak, I can barely raise an arm or a leg. It is all I can do to get from one side of the room to the other. And then I can hardly catch my breath. I know I am out of shape--okay there is absolutely NO shape, just a big, big blob of shuddering humanity -- but even at my worst before, I could breath. I am now developing a fear of suffocating, because sometimes I feel as though I am.

I genuinely feel sometimes like I am suffocating. But, there is also the feeling of suffocating under the weight of this chronic illness. I can't seem to make any positive moves toward accepting my life. Or, even figuring out how to live this life.

Michael J. Fox has been haunting me lately. That man is a marvel. I have been seeing him or hearing about him often the last few weeks. He was on "Rachael Ray". He is on the cover of Reader's Digest, "What My Illness Taught Me". Where does he find the strength, the positive outlook, the ability to keep going? He shames me. I am a sniveling coward and wimp. I haven't even gotten up the guts to read the article yet. He just smiles out at me from the cover. And I feel ashamed of myself. I should be able to do this. Other people do. Others go on with their jobs. They go on with their commitments. They go on with their life. Look at Michael. Smiling.