Fibromyalgia · life lessons

Going, Going, Gone

My friends say they think I’m “going through something”, and I think they are right. Well, almost right. I think I’ve already gone through whatever it was I was “going through” and have just been sitting here for a really long time waiting for the next part to begin.


And waiting.

And I think it has finally occurred to me that the next part just isn’t coming.

I didn’t know it wasn’t coming.

I didn’t think I would be where I currently am for very long. I though it was a speed bump in my personal road and that once I got over it I would be back on track and driving off into the sunset.

But I got over the speed bump and fell right into a pit. A hole. A trap. So where my life used to seem to have endless direction and possibility, it now is caged and resricted and small.

So, so very small.

I’m a big person. I do all things big. And well. And almost perfectly. I make goals and meet them, but mostly exceed them. I’m a person bubbling over with the desire to put out the world’s fires and choas with one hand tied behind my back and my toes using a beautiful teal fine point sharpie to check off my to-do list. Save the world? Check. Save it again? Check. Make dinner? Check. Save the world again? Check.

And then I win a medal.

Suddenly that all stopped, and I was just in a dirty dark hole with fire all over my body that, try as I may, I could NOT put out. Goals? My one goal was just to freaking FEEL BETTER and it was a goal I could NEVER MEET. So I lowered my goals, my expectations, my desires, myself. I went lower and lower and lower until I finally could cross something off my to-do list, and they were things like BREATHING. Check. Open your eyes? Check. Remember your meds? Uh… no….dammit! Get dressed? Kind of. Just touch the piano today. Check.

I’m certainly not winning any medals.

Everyone likes to tell me how strong I am. I say thanks. I don’t really mean it, because I don’t really care about my perceived level of strength. No one really knows what it’s like, so they really can’t accurately assess how well I’m doing. I know they know I’m fighting a war and that they want to show recognition, but I haven’t won a single battle. What is there to recognize?

My parenting? Yes. There is my one shining star. Thank you, thank you, check, check, and check. I can parent with one hand tied behind my back and my toe signing homework. I don’t win medals but I get that look in that little boy’s eyes that says “I love you”, and that is all I need.

But then I send him off to school, and I sit at home with Charmed, Supernatural, and Grey’s Anatomy. No, really. They are my friends. I see them every day and I am fully invested in their lives. They ask nothing of me and are just happy to entertain me and be with me. I pass the hours away with them by my side as I use social media to keep up with my real life friends who have all moved on, as they should, and are living happy, healthy lives.

Sometimes I play a little music. Sometimes I write. Sometimes I clean. Sometimes I cry because this is nowhere near the life I had planned, and I thought this pit was temporary and it’s NOT.

Do you hear me?

It’s NOT temporary!!

I didn’t know it wasn’t temporary!!1

I’m here, trapped. I do nothing, I have nothing, there is literally nothing satisfying about this life AT ALL and I DIDN’T KNOW!

I do know what I was supposed to be doing. I had it all planned out with my boss about a year ahead of when my son would first start school. Once he started, I woud no longer work the after-school hours that were pretty popular with my line of work. Done! Once he started school, I woud work only during the day and maybe a few evening hours when he was visiting his father. I would be in the schools myself, bridging the gap between in-home therapy and teachers on behalf of my autistic clients. It was going to be awesome. It was my dream job.

I thought I’d get back there eventually. Or maybe I would at least find something else that gave me a similar feeling. Maybe I could at least put out little fires somewhere? Maybe not save the world, but just save a small village. I could adjust. I could do a little less and work around my issues and still be productive and useful and awesome and…

Doctor appointments. That’s what I do now. I schedule and go to doctor appointments. And I come back home to Grey’s, Supernatural, and Charmed of course. And I rest. And I try to cause myself as little pain as possible. And I wait for my son to come home.

This is it. There has been no significant change in almost three years.

I’ve been waiting for three years.

Three years.

Holy shit.

I’ve been out of LIFE for three years.

This might very well just be IT for the rest of my life, and I don’t know how to make something better out of this.

What do I even DO with myself?

I thought I was going to get better…

I didn’t know.