Tag: Fibromyalgia

Is Pain really Fear leaving your body?

 

  • fear

    you have no power over me.

    you’ve held me captive much too long

    you were my master and i your slave

    you even tried to take me to my grave

    the scales have fallen off my eyes

    perfect love found me

    now i know you are just a wanna be

    in the presence of love you flee

    i have power over you

    love has destroyed every yoke

    victory is mine i am free

    i have power over fear

     

  • My first reaction was to say there is no way I am that damn afraid. But when I think about all that I have accomplished since I decided to not let pain win I have to stop and see if there might be some truth in that.
    I realized I was going to hurt whether I lay in bed, cry and continue on with the vicious cycle of depression because I have pain 24/7 or I could get out of bed and keep moving.
    People around me try to get me to be still and say I am doing too much, but they don’t understand that when I be still I am focused on the pain but movement allows me to transcend the pain. It never goes away. I just have days that are better than others.

    There may be some truth to pain is fear leaving. All of 2012 I have been in therapy dealing with the fear of PAIN. I was living with the fear of psychological and physical pain. My quality of life was affected because I feared doing anything that would result in me being in unbearable pain.

    I was afraid to allow the memories and flashbacks to surface because I thought I could not endure the overwhelming feelings of shame and heartbreak. Along with the memories my body would hurt in direct proportion to area of my body that was being harmed in my memory. I actually felt a release of painful energy. I felt lighter more free, less afraid.

    I know beyond a shadow of doubt that one of the biggest reasons I have Fibromyalgia is because my flight or fight response is stuck to ON. That means I have been living in a state of tension/terror all my life and this has caused me to tense all my muscles and now I am telling my muscles to relax and that is not my natural state. I do not know how to relax. Therein lies my problem. Even my brain has been wired abnormally but that is being changed every time I get out of bed and “Keep it Moving”

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Under the Cover of Love

You don’t see my agony.

I try and hide it away.

But, what I really need are

hands on my body.

They say don’t feel sorry for yourself.

Well, that does not put the pain away on a shelf.

It keeps coming and coming and I can’t get away

to make it stay, gone.

When I am home alone,

no one here to wipe my tears

and every joint in my body

feels like it has reached its breaking.

What point is it to keep the tears inside?

Although, I want to hide

away in darkness so no one will see

the side effects this shit has on me:

grouchy, mouthy, tired and lacking luster.

My lusciousness stolen by fibromyalgia.

I know pain, and pain knows me well.

I am tying not to make my life a living hell

by complaining and begging for help.

But dam it; I need somebody to put their hands on me

I am not one that can live without the touch of a lover.

Under the cover of my lovers’ touch my pain can’t harm me.

It now becomes sweet relief, just a kiss away.

After our energy exchange, all pain has faded.

I know it is chemistry

but I still want that hold

that touches and rubs under my clothes.

Crying releases endorphins

but they say don’t be a cry baby.

Don’t co-host a party with pity.

Shit the partied already started

without my permission.

I tell you I am on a mission

to find that lover that won’t get tired

of putting her hands on me.

I try to be strong and smile with grace,

telling everybody I am okay,

but as soon as their gone

tears replace smiles,

fears invade joy,

sorrow,

pity,

come rushing through the door

looking for more of my goodness to squander.

It might make me wallow.

It might make me sigh.

It might make me wish I could die.

But, after tears something magical happens.

I feel like maybe, I can beat this,

and whether I have a lover or not

this is still my lot.

I chose to cry about it and move myself out of the way,

because I know it will pass and I will remember these days.

I will tell about them to my lover.

She will hug me under the cover of love.

Ugh I wish she would hurry up

by mozayik “the souls’ poet”

4.25.12

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Going to hell changed my life (dedicated to Alfreda Lanoix)

Below is a journal entry of mine from August 2010.  I thought my life was over and I felt good for nothing.  I have Fibromyalgia and Rheumatoid Arthritis.  I was grieving the loss of my former active self.

In March of this year I purchased a book titled “Go to Hell“  by Alfreda Lanoix.  This book changed my life.  I know people throw those words around a lot but this is my truth.  Reading her book gave me courage to stand up and try again.  I can not really explain it except to say I was a ready student and the teacher showed up.

I found beauty in me.  I saw God in me.  I knew love in me.

I felt if she could start over so could I.

I said to myself “if her story can help me, then my story can help some body”  The rest is mystory.  I found my voice and have not shut up since.  I love you Alfreda.

I dedicate the rest of my life to telling my stories in hope that a life will be transformed.

written in August 2010

Suffering in silence. not seen nor heard

I’ve become cynical and jaded about the medical community. I am tired of being treated like I am crazy or a drug addict seeking drugs. My pain is real, damn it. If I am depressed it is because I am tired of hoping every day that this day will be better than yesterday, it is getting hard to hold on to hope.

Some might say it could be worse. Well my answer to that is the only thing worse would be death. I am tired of hurting but more than that I am tired of not being heard. I am Tired of not being seen. I really do not know how much more of this I can take. I am not lazy. I am not faking. Who would choose this?

I am a mother of twins and triplets. I’ve worked two jobs many times in my life. I was always on the go. While my children were little I went to college full-time and maintained a 3.5 GPA. All while teaching Sunday school, singing in the Choir, serving on the Usher board and the Nurse’s board at church. I was also taking care of my ailing grandmother. I was a wife, mother, student and servant in my community as well as at church. I went out of my way to help those more disadvantaged than myself.

I was active at my children’s school serving as P.T.A. President and was Coordinator and Liaison for Practical Parenting Partnership. I was responsible for establishing the Free Breakfast program in our school district and getting Drug Free School Zone signs installed in our neighborhoods.

Now I feel like a lazy bum although, that is not true of me. That is how I feel when I spend my days in bed crying in pain.

I am able to do less and less. I spend more time in bed than I do out and it is starting to drive me crazy. If I try to push myself to do more it only causes more pain. I live in fear of pain. I am always anxious about what I have done or might do to cause more pain.
It is so bad that I do not take my pain seriously. If I am hurting anywhere on my body, I just chalk it up to that is just the way it is. That has cost me dearly. I almost died because I did not listen to the pain. And the medical community is horrible. I have to change my doctor of twelve years because I to wait up to three months to see her or see the nurse practitioner. I don’t want to see the nurse practitioner.  She is not a doctor nor is she my doctor.

While waiting to see my doctor about the pain in my side my appendix almost burst. At the hospital they treated me like a crazy, drug seeking addict and sent me home without relieving my pain saying I was constipated although I was vomiting violently, so much that bile was coming up from my liver. They made me feel like being constipated was my fault when (that is a symptom of appendicitis).

I have so many medical conditions to manage that I have become overwhelmed. I am really at the point of giving up. With no one to talk to about this, because everyone is tired of hearing it, I have no outlet. Truth be told, I am tired of hearing it too.

I feel old, boring and a bother. Maybe it is my fault. I try not to whine. I try to act like everything is okay but I am not okay. I am suffering, alone in silence.

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR MAKES

I feel younger, more interesting and well worth your time.

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