Well, I shed a few more tears unwillingly this week and felt the yank of the painful chain, despite my stubborness and need to convince myself I am stronger than this condition.
A few months from now I will be.
But right now, not so much. I am simply the host to this party, unwelcomed as it is.
I had my first "real" treatment session yesterday at the fibro specialist.
For some you would be jealous of my weekly digest of "get healthy" routines and requirements.
It's actually pretty damn nice from the outside.
A 2 hour drive with my husband to the beautiful Front Range of Colorado, from our snowy little town. I felt amazing. In fact the last four days I felt the best I had in months. Energized, sassy, laughing, spirited, I even ran up my steps with a burst of giddiness the night prior like I had broken a school yard rule for thrills.
I had not felt so close to myself in so long, I did not want to let it go.
We walked into to meet my team of doctors are wonderfully dedicated to get me on track, get my immune system working again, and get me back to feeling 32 not 92!
I had 2.5 hours, of minor chiro treatments, 2 injections into my traps, a B12 shot, some light exercises and electrode therapy and then a very light, soft massage--so light you couldn't beat eggs with the levity of force used.
The spirit that carried me into the office, left me quickly. I was literally spinning during the massage, my mind flipping up and down like on a rollercoaster, my anxieties shooting in and out of my core so much I was crawling out of my skin, holding on and calming myself with imagery and breathing to not lose it.
I felt like the biggest loser. The biggest wimp.
I couldn't handle what people consider spa treatments and heavenly pasttimes.
I hated every second.
When we were done, I got in the car with nothing left in me. No energy in my limbs, tearing up from emotions I didn't even know I had in me, tenderness and stiffness, bruising from the touch and injections. Pain and irritation. Exhaustion. Frustration.
I hardly slept. I was just so uncomfortable.
But I woke up early, which is rare for me. And made it to work, with a coffee in hand and in good spirits for a our weekly meeting.
45 minutes in I crashed. My streak of wonderful days felt like they never existed. Wiped away in a heartbeat, one swipe took them away with an easy stroke to my back.
I didn't call in. I wanted to half way through the meeting. I wanted to sleep. To stretch. To ache alone. To not be forced to think or speak or stare aimlessly at my computer for 8 hours.
The littlest of tasks today daunted me.
I felt worthless. Tonight I am lethargic, and soar.
But mostly pissed off. I have to mentally get a grasp on this. I have to stay in control.
I hate feeling mortal.
I'll figure it out. It's just a bad day. I guess I can have those. We are just getting started.

Not Quite Publishable (and yes there are spelling errors)
My very rough introduction into blog I am in the process of developing. I haven't quite got into the writing mode for this specific topic yet but wanted to spew out a few thoughts-for mere personal sel-motivation while I was here. So here goes, from the hip.

Being a Buzzkill
Hate to be a buzzkill but I'll be focusing on my recent diagnosis with fibromyalgia. I am 32 years old, newlywed and very active having grown up on the ocean and now residing in ski town. I plan on discussing my frustrations for feeling "limits" for the first time in my life, yet in contrast I see a bright light marking a new and promising path for myself, my family and my future. It is my hope that my blog, inspired by others with this enigmatic syndrome, not medically worthy yet of being termed a disease, will get fellow sufferers to realize their potential despite the physical pain from this constant everyday nagging malady.
I have never experienced such self-doubt and confusion, hopelessness and utter frustration than in the past weeks since the F word came from my physician's mouth. Fibro is a powerful term, and mentally can tweak and twist your focus and those things that can fuel you to get through an every day. I never imagined I would succumb to the qualification of the term, but I did.
Today and the rest of my every days will be whole heartedly committed to one thing, never qualifying Fibro as a weakness again. I am who I have made, I control my will and my actions, and although my days may feel weary and painful, my passion stays on track.

Not Giving In Mentally
I hope this gives anyone, a glimpse of hope of the possibility. I am exactly one month diganosed today. Sadly, I believe I lost 30 days of my life to feeling sorry for myself and my livelihood overshadowed by a term or condition. 30 days I will not get back. 30 days of allowing myself to give in.
Life is ful of surprises, and Fibro is nothing less. Its a predicament that will shape my every decision and my body will have to carry for the rest of my days. But it is manageable, it is not defeat, it is forgiving with the right choices and living with the appropriate conviction.
It is time to strive for the positive, to focus on the good. To shake off the migraines, the numb limbs, the daunting viral attacks, the constant pains, the capability of being able to be touched...all these things deserve a moment of respect and they exist to a debilitating degree that can break an individual down and changes the course of one's life.
But they aren't worth my tears.
They are however very real. They are mine. I will own them. I will carry them, everyday. And I will succeed and be happy and continue to be healthy and active and live.

Complete Loss of My Everything
In last year, I have watched, literally watched myself, fall down. A pathetic display of the malady in action and at full speed, every week and month past getting worse taking new shape and new forms, anxiety attacks to weekly debilitating migraines, to pain so bad and a soreness so sensitive, the tiniest acts of every day tasks humbled me-floored me, threw me down and pummeled the life from me. I developed every syndrome associated with this stupid condition imagineable, to a point I was taken in at my place of employment because they were concerened about my mental health. This was all pre-diagnosis, and myself and others thought I had a spine problem, from over zealous and overly greedy physicians reading whatever they could into a perfectly healthy series of MRIs and scans. My entire body was shutting down, despite my perfect levels and attributes in blood tests, heart rate, etc., the core of this young woman's operating system was plummeting, and I watched myself lose control very slowly, very painfully, for nearly 12 long months. And by month 8, I had lost all self confidence, chaulked up my symptoms and emotional despair, my anxiety attacks, my need to NOT be touched by my new husband because it literall hurt the surface of my skin and made we want to punch at him...I gave in to it all and believed I was losing my mind. Everything I had accomlished professionally, was being questioned, concern for me completing the simplest tasks was the elephant in the room. My husband was gone for weeks working, while I sustained the home, worked endless hours trying to stay on track and kept up, but I was flailing. I lost.

The Doctor Game
This game sucks, but its what everyone with anything ailing them has to go through.Unfortunately for those in the middle of this long and expensive process its inavoidable and sadly US Healthcare is all we have. For me, I embrace it, because I think it took myself just as long to put it together as it did the multitude of specialists I saw. First thinking I had spine related issues, to being dx'ed with radiculopathy, to a musclar problem that should have a "quick fix" with botox injectiosn (WTH?) to finally, nearly $5000 later in 6 months, a proper diagnosis of FM. Once I fell into good hands it all made sense, but its an expensive, emotional process that had me questioning my pain, my mental and emotional health. Not to mention, thrust me into a world of prescription drugs and fear I would "hurt myself" from misdiagonises. Regardless its inevitable.

LYING
It's all you do when you hit the massive ultimate Flare-Up. You lie down, a lot. One the couch, in your bed, on the floor stretching. growing restless with every passing day. But you're healing. So do it.

BUT make certain you are not LYING to yourself. Pay attention to everything, be honest with your goals and realistic, Include your partner and physician/family's thoughts.

You are lying to yourself if you think you can do everything. I am learning this slowly. I can't do everything, at least not at all once, not right now. I can lie down, and rest and conjure and plan and ultimately conquer. And I will. In good time.

I have every intention of continuing the things I love and living and adventurous and active life, running my own business and having a familywho strugle to keep up with me!

I will not be calling in fibro at 32.