Writing Words With the Tips of My Toes
Since this week has been the busiest I’ve had in a while, my fibromyalgia is starting to emerge to punish me in the form of flares that crawl just beneath my skin and fatigue that has me in a chokehold at work. I might not be making any appointments today, but at least my boss knows I have fibromyalgia and will understand.
This exhaustion is why I got depressed in the first place. I hated how being busy negatively affected me. I hated that I couldn’t be content with a busy week because of the fatigue and the pain. I hated this because I’m working toward becoming a teacher, and if I can’t handle a week like this, there is no way I can become an English teacher. But I’m content with whatever happens in the future. I’m not worried about it anymore. I’m taking each day at a time, and if fibro wants to inhabit my body because I’m a hard worker, so be it.
I knew being as busy as I was would eventually do this to me. I had to take ibuprofen during work yesterday to get rid of bear-trap pain. I may also need anti-anxiety meds to calm my body down when it starts freaking out because it’s so busy. I wouldn’t mind those meds at all because it means being able to do more than what my body is currently capable of, and that would be another dream come true.
I would love to go home and work on Stolentime, but what I need more than anything right now is a hot bath and a nap. Maybe some tea. A soft blanket. Something to self-soothe me.
Right now I’m at work and plan to take a break every hour if the exhaustion and pain start to affect my work. Thank God my job is no McDonalds. I would have died already. But anyone who has a chronic illness be it mental or physical can understand the natural fatigue that can creep in because illness itself is so exhausting.
As it were, I need to get back to work. I seriously wish people wouldn’t look intently at the car if they’re not going to sign up for it. This is my territory.