...such a dirty word.
I'm in a small state of panic right now from the uncertainty of tomorrow. I meet with my new doctor tomorrow at 3pm. I get to discuss my pain... aches... stabs... depression... anxiety... never ending fatigue... so many things. I have a small support system that I am so incredibly thankful for, but there are still days I feel alone in this fight. I feel guilty for even saying that, though. This isn't a statement directed at anyone personally. No one can actually feel my pain. No one can truly understand when I have to stop in the middle of a sentence and close my eyes to contain the sharp pain I just felt shoot through my body. Any time that happens, everyone stops what they're doing and awkwardly stares at me until I open my eyes again and assure them I'm fine. I'm never fine, but it's what they want to hear... and it takes the attention off of me and my pain. Being silently watched while I'm experiencing the assault my body is bearing makes the situation that much more difficult. Please, don't treat me differently because of my pain.
I have days where I simply can't pick up my beautiful 3 year old boy. My heart breaks about a million times on those days... and when I cry, he crawls in my lap, very gently puts his hands on my cheeks, says, "Momma..." and wipes away my tears. My little boy... he's the definition of love. He gives me the strength I often lack. He knows what I need, even when I don't know what I need.
I'm truly blessed.
I often find myself lost in fear when I read each of my "symptoms" listed on each site. My body starts to ache uncontrollably when I'm under the stress of talking to someone that has Fibromyalgia and can so perfectly relate to my every day life. I suppose knowing what the problem is for sure will help me conquer it, but this anxiety is haunting me for the time being.
Stressed...
Afraid...
Uncertain...
Fuck.
On Saturday I go to orientation for my new job. I'm relieved to have another income, but I think about working 5... 6 hour days... or even 8 hour days and I want to cry. I know the pain I'll be in by the end of the day. I know the 4 hour orientation is going to make me want to curl into a ball and sob uncontrollably.
This isn't fair.
I hate this.
Pain,
Pain,
Go away.
My thoughts are scattered. I have so many things to say, yet my body lacks the energy to formulate the words. As soon as the thought forms, it sneaks away like a thief in the night. How frustrating. No. How INFURIATING!!!
How sweet it would be to write poetry...
Delve into my innermost thoughts and feelings...
Explore the depths of my soul...
Sing sweet songs of the enchanting parts of life.
As I struggle to express myself accurately, rage fills me...
Those beautiful words that speak to my soul...
Torn into a million pieces.
Unable to be reassembled...
A broken puzzle piece looking for it's mate...
It wins... again.
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