Endurance

Having a disease like Fibromyalgia is not easy. I would say it is one of the hardest experiences I have ever had to endure. It is frightening, painful, isolating, demeaning - in every way a nightmare. It's made even harder when the ones you love don't understand it.
I want everyone to know that, before I got sick, I was an extremely active person. I used to hike, camp, ride bicycle, walk, do crafts, quilt, sew, scrapbook, cook. As a teenager, I play softball, tried basketball, enjoyed  volleyball, mowed the lawn, was in the marching band, and participated in all number of other school activities. I even lifted weights and ran. I would have been on the track team if we'd had one at my school.  I was literally hyperactive (although I didn't know I had ADD at the time). As I got sicker and sicker, I sought a cure that would return me to my active self. After awhile, I figured I was just getting old or lazy. Many years and multiple diagnoses later, I finally found out what was going on.
But in the meantime, I isolated myself from friends because I felt bad every time I had to cancel at the last minute. I despised them thinking of me as rude and uninterested in our friendships. I felt like I was the worst best friend in the world. I loved these people, but couldn't seem to make time for them. And I didn't know why.
More than once I thought I was losing my mind and falling apart. Even now that I know what is going on, I feel that way.
My husband was able to stick through me when I was sick with something that could be fixed - a gall bladder removal left me out of it for a few weeks. I was vulnerable and obviously too sick to do much besides sleep and stare at a TV screen.
And then I got my diagnosis. I started medication and it seemed to finally be helpng.  And then a few weeks later, I lost my job. And relief became nightmare again.
No insurance means no medication for the woman with the chronic, debilitating disorder. No medicine, no treatment, no doctor's visits, no medical support, no solutions. A sick economy means no jobs for the woman with a chronic illness but a dual college degree and work experience.
And then my husband decided to leave me.  And, because I know the set of problems he faces in life, I convinced him to physically stay because I knew he needed to know he had a place whee he was still loved. And I hoped to work things out.
Have I mentioned that high levels of stress negatively effect Fibromyalgia?
And that we had to accept help from a relative to survive?
And, in the middle of that, I decided to do something I'd wanted to do for years. I went back to school.
I accept some work. And then my husband got sick and had to be hospitalized for a week. My hell week.  I started a new temp job, my husband was admitted to the hospital, I'd just adopted 2 kittens, and my first week of classes started. To this day, I am not sure how I managed to survive that week.
Somehow, several years later, I am surviving. Someday I hope to be thriving again. If I can.
In the meantime, I endure...
day by day.