I must tell it how it is right now. Will the truth set me free? In due time, perhaps. I have found myself riding solo on the thin line as I make every attempt to keep my balance. I have always felt the need to share my back to back birthdays on August 1st & August 2nd with friends. As hard as I’ve tried, as much as I’ve looked at all the different angles, I’ve finally come to terms that I have not felt up to it. My body & spirit have been so weary. Stretched to the limit. August 1st, my 55th birthday and August 2nd, my 25th spiritual-sober birthday have quietly come and gone. I am so amazed that I am still sober. Every morning before I even open my eyes, Fibromyalgia has once more beaten me to a pulp. It’s extraordinary. One moment the inside of my ear will feel as if I am being electrocuted with a live wire – then the pulsating stabbing and burning makes its way down my back. As the great struggle for me to hang on to my sanity becomes bearable my thoughts are quite foggy from the fatigue that follows.
“Get up. Move.” I mumble to myself feeling tears silently roll down my face. “My list. Find that list and it will tell you what to do”. . .
I know this long endless moment after moment will pass, but right now I still see no reason to celebrate my birthdays. Being sociable is a bit much for me. The best I can do is decline offers from other sober friends who somehow have not forgotten me. At 25 years sober I certinally didn’t see this one coming for crying out loud. I’ve been trying with all my might to climb out of the torture chamber that has landed inside of my body. So far, living with chronic pain from Fibromyalgia at this stage of the game is just that – torture. It’s my truth. It’s my struggle. It’s my Fibromyalgia. It’s my sobriety? This is some crazy stuff.
I must be patient with the process as doctors and I slowly (quite slowly) learn how to manage this puzzle. My life has been put on hold – but the pages of the calendar do not stop turning. Thank goodness, I’ve found that list, you know, the one with my brain on it.
In my handwriting, at the top of my reminder list it says, “Take more pictures”. I’ve learned that taking photos is an excellent way for me to keep my mind in the present moment. No past resentments. No future fears. Only the present moment as I find my way.
This week has been extra depleting – once more I lean on my God – I’ve nothing left to give – but I’m not giving up. I will have patience with the process.
A dear friend calls – rarely do I answer my phone when my sharp pains are horrific. I can barely speak to him. He has been consistent with checking in with me. “This is torture”, I whisper as I make a feeble attempt of holding back my tears. “This is crazy”. This endless depression is new territory for me. But I feel my depression is caught up in the cycle of chronic pain.
It took a while – but a clear thought came to me (thank you God) Washing my hair at the kitchen sink is much more comfortable for me than standing in the shower. (Showers are not very nice to me anymore. Ouch.) A warm salt bath is a good thing. Baby steps in having patience with the process – and learning how to manage. A warm salt bath, followed by a shampoo at the kitchen sink is a very good thing. Plus it’s much more entertaining for the cat.
As I’ve mentioned, I’m quite active & sociable by nature. I’ve lost this part of me. Gone. I’m coming to terms with my feelings of loss. Complete acceptance of my loss of the old me must happen before I am able to redefine myself. To move forward. Yes – I seem to be stuck. Stuck between old & new. Stuck between freedom & captivity.
No matter how weary my body & spirit, no matter how much my hope is wavering, there has always been enough in my spirit to ask Him to once again renew my hope, from that, I once again start to regain my courage in these many moments.
I feel I can finally rest now. I’ve been unable to sleep once more. Insomnia is not a nice one to deal with. My late night, will soon be turning into morning. And as I sleep, I’ll be able to refill my emotional & physical empty well.
I have a feeling I could be learning some of the most important lessons of my life. Nothing wrong with that.
Iris is my flower of sobriety. My friend (who checks on me every day) dropped them off for me on my spiritual birthday. So grateful for him.
. . . and my number 25. It’s my new lucky number now. It could happen.