I don't know why I own so much black clothing because I really hate the colour black. It's likely because I've spent a greater part of my adult life living in a emotional black hell-hole.
I'm teetering on the edge of the chasm right now. I'm so confused and hurt that I don't know if I'll fall in from shock and disorientation or just hurl myself headlong into it anyway. Either way, I hit bottom. Hard.
I can't go into details but suffice it to say that too many outside forces are crushing me. Too much pressure, too many stressors. Too many expectations. I don't want to feign strength right now. It's long gone - beat a hasty retreat when I crumpled beside the abyss.
I feel utterly useless, helpless and totally lost. I feel like I am a huge disappointment to myself and to others in my life. I have no where to turn or anybody to turn to this time around. My old dysfunctional coping strategies are snaking themselves around my body, goading me to do something stupid, something harmful to myself. I'm fighting them as I write. Goddamn demons. Can't they ever let me be in peace?
I can't take much more stress and crap in my life. To outside observers my life must look very sweet indeed. Little do they know how tortured I am. How much emotional ballast weighs me down. Outward appearances can be remarkably deceiving.
I should think I'd be used to feeling hopeless and depressed. The pair have been unwelcome companions in my life - sick shadows that relentlessly stalk me. Still, I'm not used to it. Every time waves of anguish bash me, it becomes more difficult to get up - again.
People with fibromyalgia will understand this. It is exceedingly difficult to make social plans in advance. We really do not know how we are going to be feeling the day of. To others, please don't take it personally if we have to cancel. In the same vein, please don't take it upon yourself to deliver a lecture on how we would feel better if we would only follow your advice. You have never been in my body and you will never be in my body. Please, I ask you in a friendly manner to re-consider delivering your 'motivational' message on how I'd feel better if I only tried harder, ate this or that, got more exercise. Your well-intentioned advice accomplishes nothing more than providing a one-way ticket for me to visit Guilt Trip Central. And, it's stops along the way: The Heights of Hypochondria and It Can't Be That Bad County.
It's not that I wish non-fmers pain. But I would be interested in observing how they would fare after a few consectutive nights or weeks of unrelenting insomnia. Combine that with body pain and restless legs that itch, burn, jerk throughout the entire night. I seriously wonder if, come morning time, these non-fmers would spring out of bed, full of pep, bursting with unbridled energy, ready to take on the world. I doubt they would resemble a TV commercial whereupon people tap dance in celebration of a new carton of orange juice. Would they effortlessly hip hop though a mundane day consisting of errands, some housekeeping, meals and a myriad of other sorry, endless household chores?
Seriously, how would the faux-fmers feel if their loved ones told them they were not trying hard enough to help themselves? After some intital resentment on their part, I would hope they might emerge as more compassionate people, with a clearer understanding of what it feels like to live in a body that baffles and betrays without warning or reason.
Many non-fmer's do not understand and (likely never will), the limitations of our maddening syndrome. Please understand we do not want to stay in bed all day. But on days when the overwhelming fatigue blankets me, I will sometimes delay going to the bathroom because it will require a Herculean effort on my part just to stagger to the toilet. People, I'm telling you, some days are THAT bad. Please, think again before you decide to judge the Fmer in your life. If you walked a mile in our shoes, on our good days, you wouldn't get very far at all.
I don't know why I'm writing this blog but I need a release of some kind, or I'll implode. I don't want to swan-dive into the abyss. Nor do I feel I deserved to be pushed, either. I can't be there for everyone all the time. Just so you know, I take offense when people refer to my physical and emotional problems as 'drama.' That is condescending, insulting and insensitive. I dont't deserve that.
Maintaining any kind of homeostasis is under threat. As such, I am going into lockdown until further notice.