I woke up today, and throughout the day I have had the feeling that I should write about the darkness I felt, went through and had to come out of when the Fibromyalgia I experienced was at its highest point.
When speaking to Dr.s, Therapists, friends, family, strangers they make it sound so simple, and so easy to climb out of the hole you are in. Few questions are asked, few people want to understand, but all seem to have an opinion, and we, or sorry, I will say I, since I am speaking of my experience, I felt that no matter if someone did or did not want to ask you were not to tell the whole truth as they did not want to hear it, or I did not feel they would understand or could handle it.
No matter whether it was when I was in my worst flare up, or even now when the Fibro remains dormant, I do not feel that anyone truly wants to hear what I experienced, what I went through and what I battled. The lonliness you feel during it for these reasons and others, and even the traces of being utterly alone in the battle when I remember back brings me to want to share more.
I don't remember the date, I don't remember why it was that day, I do remember looking at that bottle and thinking how many would it take? I had been in pain for years, hidden tears, shared tears, anger, frustration, feeling weak and defeated, the pain, the hope almost gone that anything would help, grasping for anything. Doctors saying you will be in a wheelchair before you are 30, you need to accept your new way of life, unable to hug my kids because it hurt too much, shutting myself away from friends and family, I could go on. The hole I was in, the pain I was in was getting deeper and deeper, I could no longer see the light at the top.
Then it happened the flare up to rival all previous flare ups. Clothes hurt, laying on the bed brought me to tears, closing my eyes was too painful, opening my eyes was too painful, the migraine that made it feel your eyes were about to burst out of your head, unable to drink or eat, the nausea and wanting to be sick but knowing that it would bring you to what you think at the time is the verge of death, your body is on fire but you are experiencing chills and the sheet, yes a sheet is too heavy for you. Feeling horrible because you are still able to think and you feel the guilt of your children seeing this, the thinking why me, what did I do in this lifetime or a past life to make this punishment acceptable. People around offering me food, help, and just asking what they can do, I yell for them to be quiet because their voice made my migraine worse, and then being angry because no one had checked on me. Curled in a fetile position, rocking myself and wanting to cry but cant because you are so dehydrated from not drinking. I can go on and on. Then the kicker, the pain will go away with sleep, but you can't sleep because the pain is too great. So what is the relief.
I looked up, and saw the cupboard. The cupboard of all the prescriptions the Dr.s had offered, provided me for possible relief. The morphine, the codeine, the fentanyl (sorry if spelling is off), the four different types of sleeping pills that have never held up their end of the bargain. Why not?
Even now as I am writing this tears come to my eyes, I remember and my body, heart, soul, and mind, sympathizes and understands what I went through, and yet I am thankful for that day.
Why not? The pain I was in, even without the flare ups was increasing on a daily basis. The life I was living was one of surviving and not living, enjoying, learning (so I thought at the time), having or reaching for my dreams. Why not? I had the medications, I had enough to put five 500 pound men to sleep. Take the pills and I would fall to sleep and never feel pain again. I walked to the cupboard, I know it sounds weird but walking to the cupboard the pain was gone. I did not have a problem, did not feel any pain walking to the cupboard, opening it and lining up 7 bottles of pain medications, opened the bottles (which normally near impossible for me on a normal day, not a problem at this time). I poured myself a cup of water, placed it beside the bottles and stood there. I do not know how long I stared. I do not know how long I thought about it. I do remember closing my bottles, I do remember with each bottle that I closed and with each bottle I put back, the pain came back. The last bottle put away, the full force of Fibro was on me. I drank the glass of water, got sick to my stomach in the sink, fell to the floor cried, and crawled to my bed, returned to my fetile position and cried.
What stopped me? I did not know who would find me, and I know for a fact that more than anything I did not want my children to find me or have a mother (even though I felt like a failure as a mother), have a mother who gave up fighting and killed herself.
I was there, I fully admit it, that if I had not had children (many people have their inspiration), I would have taken those pills and I would have gladly closed my eyes and fallen to sleep.
I have been to the darkest places (this is only one time I have shared), I have given up hope, I have stopped fighting, and I have given myself to Fibromyalgia. All those who experience the dark times, do not hide, do not sit quietly, share, fight and above all find your light.
When speaking to Dr.s, Therapists, friends, family, strangers they make it sound so simple, and so easy to climb out of the hole you are in. Few questions are asked, few people want to understand, but all seem to have an opinion, and we, or sorry, I will say I, since I am speaking of my experience, I felt that no matter if someone did or did not want to ask you were not to tell the whole truth as they did not want to hear it, or I did not feel they would understand or could handle it.
No matter whether it was when I was in my worst flare up, or even now when the Fibro remains dormant, I do not feel that anyone truly wants to hear what I experienced, what I went through and what I battled. The lonliness you feel during it for these reasons and others, and even the traces of being utterly alone in the battle when I remember back brings me to want to share more.
I don't remember the date, I don't remember why it was that day, I do remember looking at that bottle and thinking how many would it take? I had been in pain for years, hidden tears, shared tears, anger, frustration, feeling weak and defeated, the pain, the hope almost gone that anything would help, grasping for anything. Doctors saying you will be in a wheelchair before you are 30, you need to accept your new way of life, unable to hug my kids because it hurt too much, shutting myself away from friends and family, I could go on. The hole I was in, the pain I was in was getting deeper and deeper, I could no longer see the light at the top.
Then it happened the flare up to rival all previous flare ups. Clothes hurt, laying on the bed brought me to tears, closing my eyes was too painful, opening my eyes was too painful, the migraine that made it feel your eyes were about to burst out of your head, unable to drink or eat, the nausea and wanting to be sick but knowing that it would bring you to what you think at the time is the verge of death, your body is on fire but you are experiencing chills and the sheet, yes a sheet is too heavy for you. Feeling horrible because you are still able to think and you feel the guilt of your children seeing this, the thinking why me, what did I do in this lifetime or a past life to make this punishment acceptable. People around offering me food, help, and just asking what they can do, I yell for them to be quiet because their voice made my migraine worse, and then being angry because no one had checked on me. Curled in a fetile position, rocking myself and wanting to cry but cant because you are so dehydrated from not drinking. I can go on and on. Then the kicker, the pain will go away with sleep, but you can't sleep because the pain is too great. So what is the relief.
I looked up, and saw the cupboard. The cupboard of all the prescriptions the Dr.s had offered, provided me for possible relief. The morphine, the codeine, the fentanyl (sorry if spelling is off), the four different types of sleeping pills that have never held up their end of the bargain. Why not?
Even now as I am writing this tears come to my eyes, I remember and my body, heart, soul, and mind, sympathizes and understands what I went through, and yet I am thankful for that day.
Why not? The pain I was in, even without the flare ups was increasing on a daily basis. The life I was living was one of surviving and not living, enjoying, learning (so I thought at the time), having or reaching for my dreams. Why not? I had the medications, I had enough to put five 500 pound men to sleep. Take the pills and I would fall to sleep and never feel pain again. I walked to the cupboard, I know it sounds weird but walking to the cupboard the pain was gone. I did not have a problem, did not feel any pain walking to the cupboard, opening it and lining up 7 bottles of pain medications, opened the bottles (which normally near impossible for me on a normal day, not a problem at this time). I poured myself a cup of water, placed it beside the bottles and stood there. I do not know how long I stared. I do not know how long I thought about it. I do remember closing my bottles, I do remember with each bottle that I closed and with each bottle I put back, the pain came back. The last bottle put away, the full force of Fibro was on me. I drank the glass of water, got sick to my stomach in the sink, fell to the floor cried, and crawled to my bed, returned to my fetile position and cried.
What stopped me? I did not know who would find me, and I know for a fact that more than anything I did not want my children to find me or have a mother (even though I felt like a failure as a mother), have a mother who gave up fighting and killed herself.
I was there, I fully admit it, that if I had not had children (many people have their inspiration), I would have taken those pills and I would have gladly closed my eyes and fallen to sleep.
I have been to the darkest places (this is only one time I have shared), I have given up hope, I have stopped fighting, and I have given myself to Fibromyalgia. All those who experience the dark times, do not hide, do not sit quietly, share, fight and above all find your light.
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