So I sat here debating starting something new and I realized that what I wanted, in part, was to mark the distinct change that is the then and the now. What better way to do that than to continue this? The then is represented here, and now...I can add the now of things.
I was, at one time, and this is truth...smart and beautiful. I took both for granted, of course. At times I was vane and so when I lost my beauty to lackadaisy care I took it as only right. After all, I had been vane, and I knew it. Years passed and I regained my good looks, I actually stopped traffic a time or two...yes really. It was a new toy, fun to play with, and I loved it.
And then it got caught up in the confusion of what drew the anger of and lust of men I had trusted, and I pushed it away. I don't know if I pushed it away to protect myself or because my self loathing was such I felt I no longer deserved it. Regardless, I know I did, I actively pushed it away.
My intellect was different. It was the core of me, the part of my ultimate self I could turn to, lean on, and trust. It was what I had in common with my children, my husband, my mother, my father, my siblings, my friends. I didn't take pride in it, though. Sometimes I was able to do things that led me to feeling proud of myself, but not in a selfserving dark confused way...in a real way that helped me to see my path in life.
I quietly feared things that could come to any of us to take away the part of myself I held honestly dear. Alzheimers, a head injury, things beyond my control that popular culture brought across my vision. I didn't know whatever forces that cause one's own body to rebel were already at work. Whatever path Fibromyalgia needed in order to meander its way into my life was being laid brick by brick. I didn't even know what FM was.
Even when the TV started showing greyhaired women wincing when a grandchild hugged them I didn't know how right and wrong those images were. It was just another illness the drug companies were profiting from. In other words, not a part of my reality.
Now, though, I know the misconceptions of age and pain the commercials held. I don't have grey hair, I don't have grandchildren, I don't hold my wrist to my chest and look into the middle distance dramatically. All of which is to say; I certainly didn't understand how devastating FM could be until it bloomed fully in my world.
I hurt, almost constantly, so much so I dismiss nearly every pain now. Stubbing my toe no longer means a sharp OW! it means OWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! for long minutes. I've read that the pain people with FM feel is akin to the pain of breaking a bone, I believe it. I live in fear of the everyday now, of hugs and barked shins, of people needing me and me not being there.
I wish pain were the only part of FM I had to live with, I could deal with that. But it's not. I have trouble thinking, even small things can leave me befuddled for minutes at a time...or, worse, I simply lose what I was thinking about as though it touched my brain and slid off into nothingness and ceased to exist. Sometimes whatever has slipped from me leaves a residue and something can touch that and trigger a memory and I will suddenly remember what I missed or who I left hanging.
It's awful.
I know some of the people closest to me would argue that it isn't that bad, but what would it be like if they could see all the times I cover? I couldn't do that to them. It's bad enough that they have to live with this as much as they do, I won't inflict this on them whenever I can avoid it.
I can feel myself slipping now. I'm deeply tired today, the fog is thick and the more I try to push it away or think through it the worse it gets and the more tired I get.
I miss me. I doubt I'll ever be beautiful again, my age and health make that very unlikely. I only hope someday I'll regain my ability to think, to reason, and to live without the fog.
