On Pushing Myself

Throughout all of this blogging experience I realize I have made a mistake. I often write as though my body is this weak thing that never gets off the couch and that I never use like I used to. While it’s true that almost every day is a series of compromises compared to my old life where I never stopped for a minute, there is still actually very little time in my life for rest. I am trying to make more. I am trying to encourage others to make more room in their lives for real, relaxed rest. But I know how hard/impossible that is with people who depend on you.

My body is not frail and weak, not by design any way. In my past life, I used my body every day for real, repetitive physical work, and then I came home and worked in the garden and on fixing up our home. I find it hard to give up those habits of the past me. The problem I see with continuing on like I am, without ever learning how to put my rest first, is that I know people with fibro who work full time and have continued to work without stopping since their diagnosis, and I see those friends take handfuls of pills now to keep on their feet, and they are miserable every second of it. None of them have improved by relentlessly pushing through the pain. They seem to regard their bodies with pure hatred, and I feel so bad for their struggles. Not to say I do not know some successful working friends with fibromyalgia, but those who are successful have learned to adapt, change, flex, and yes, compromise. They are not attempting to live the exact same life as before their illness hit.

There is acceptance before there is success, with a chronic illness. Acceptance does not mean giving up, it means finding another way forward. I am trying to find that way, but I don’t know where to look.

The other aspect I must find is balance. From past experience, the less I move, the more I hurt the next morning. However, too much movement can also send me into a horrible flare up. Other times, it’s just the tiniest sneeze or attempt to tie my shoe that send me into a downward spiral of pain and nausea and anxiety. I cannot seem to figure it all out. The longer I sleep, the more I hurt the next morning. If I don’t sleep enough I hurt more too. On and on like that, until it becomes more evident than ever before that having fibromyalgia and ME means I live a life balanced on the blade of a razor. One wrong move sends me plummeting into an abyss. The climb back out of which is terribly arduous and depressing and takes everything I have, every single time.

Until I can learn to stop falling (with the understanding that it will get better but never stop completely) the best I can do is to become better at getting back up again. The falls are inevitable, really. My ability to stand back up, to keep fighting, is all that keeps me from staying at the bottom of the abyss.

This determination to keep going, it demonstrates beyond a shadow of a doubt that my body is not weak. It is fighting. I am fighting. FMS/ME can’t take everything from me.

I will keep pushing myself. And I will keep doing more and more physical activity despite the pain, but I will not pretend that I do not have these illnesses. Not to myself and not to anyone else.

I am not weak, I am still always on my feet, never napping, never stopping for too long. There are those days when I do feel weak, but it is temporary. And I am thankful for my still-strong, still active body. Though I am mostly housebound and cannot figure out driving or working with all my meds and issues, I do not sit in one place with my heating pad more than once a week, except at the very end of the night, in bed. I do not lounge on the couch, I do not lay down in bed. If I need to lay down, it’s usually the floor that I end up on, because I’ve pushed myself that far and suddenly I am done moving, and even crawling is a challenge then. Some days pass me by and I feel like I have barely even participated in them at all, and sometimes I have nothing to show for myself, no matter how many time I paced back and forth, doubled over in pain every few minutes, trying to remember to do a task that has slipped my mind, yet again. But wallowing in bed is not in the script. If it gets that severe, I will know, my body will force me into bed, but it is not there yet and I will fight with everything I have to stay on my feet even if I get nothing done, even if the pain has me by the throat and chest, and I stare off into space and create jumbled garbage when I sit down to write and paint, even if I doze off in my chair for a few minutes at noon, and snap out of it by using the pain of doing the dishes to wake me up. It’s war. Whatever means necessary, you know?

This is life, fighting a long battle with a group of cruel illnesses who are using my body as their host. Tonight, after I have spent all day floating in a strange haze, I cannot be angry at myself for doing my best today despite the severe brain fog that plagued my every heavy step. The laundry is somehow done, and I managed to take a shower for the first time in four days, which feels like absolute heaven. I am snuggled up in a long sleeve waffle knit, two layered zip up hoodies, leggings, loose pajama bottoms and two pairs of soft cushy socks. Yes, it’s coooooold here!

Being cozy despite not being able to get comfortable, I have to reflect that many are not warm inside this winter, and I am so lucky to be here in this house wearing all these soft clothes, clean and dry. Suddenly my world is brighter and kinder, and I am transported out of the pain of my body and into my surroundings, able to participate again for a brief time, and thankful for every second of it!

capturinggratitude

If it is a particularly painful or fatigued day. I will allow my body to dictate some of the events of the day, but not all of them. It is enough that I keep trying to find my way, right now. As long as I do not give up, then this is learning, and it is messy and unpleasant and even at times thrilling. There are things my body can still do that would not have seemed possible a year ago. But there is also the agony of steadily increasing pain over time, the horrible fear that my strength and toughness will be outstripped by my worsening illnesses someday. I cannot get rid of the fear completely, but I can choose to not let it take me hostage. Who cares what tomorrow brings, because there is no controlling that. However, I do have control over my reactions, and that is enough to get from here to a better place, in time.

I can choose to live, right here and right now, no matter what is happening with my body. There is so much power in that.

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About Jessi Finds Out Fibro

Hi, and thank you for finding your way to my corner of the web! I'm on a journey to empower myself and hopefully others through shared courage and compassion. I write Finding Out Fibro, a chronic illness and chronic pain awareness blog that is not just about fibromyalgia, as well as a new project making jewelry under the Etsy name Hopeful Spoon. Please check out the shop and share if you can! Thank you for your support! My other hobbies include defeating ableism anywhere I find it, upcycling old junk into funky awesomeness, raising my voice to erase stigma against invisible illness and mental illness, baking, collecting vintage kitchen ware, sharing body-positive messages, playing around in photoshop, abstract painting (especially in neons and metallics!), advocating for those living with chronic illnesses and mental health challenges, seeking safety and upholding visibility for LGBTQIA individuals living with physical and mental disabilities, researching and testing plant-based remedies for chronic pain, and spending all my spare spoons in my veggie garden. This is my opportunity to do more than just survive with chronic illness. This is me learning how to live well, even though there is no cure for the war my body is waging on me.

One response to “On Pushing Myself”

  1. abodyofhope says :

    I was cheering for you as I read this. I really loved that you said you now encourage others to find time to rest more. I loved that you notice some of the positive changes you are making in your life despite there being scary, painful, difficult issues you are facing day to day. That is very unique to SEE the good inside of all of the darkness. The fact that you share these things helps me and others to see our good things too. You are so unique because you aren’t fighting the fact that you are evolving. Most people are so afraid of change. I know I was for so long. I was the first person you spoke of. The one who took so many pills and hated her body- had no time for anything but work and pain and illness…Just so nothing would ever change. Realizing change is necessary and can also have beautiful benefits is something you are coming to rapidly, it seems.
    You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, but I really know the feeling of people who are STILL ABLE to be active and not understanding those who are not.
    You give the whole impression that people who are homebound or bedbound, or chronically ill in general are doing their best, no matter what others see from the outside. On bad days, we are surviving. On good days, we are pushing to the limits. There’s no stop and chillax like so many believe. Thank you for giving a taste of your personal experience so others might understand there is no stopping the fight.
    Cheering for you.

    Like

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