Simmering

The fatigue covers me like a warm blanket. It’s a sleepy tiredness. I didn’t wake up until 11 o’clock today, and two hours later I could nap.

My husband and I took the dogs for a good, 40-minute walk for the first time in ages. I was hoping for the whole, “A body in motion, stays in motion,” but that’s not happening.

Being home, not working, allows me to take better care of myself because there were more 9-hour days I struggled through than not. With the ability to take a break when needed or rearrange chores based on symptoms, I got my hopes up that I would feel a lot better.

That doesn’t seem to be the case necessarily, but there is, indeed, much less of a sense of despair trying to make it through my shift.

I’m wondering if the fatigue is solely a sign of my fibromyalgia or if there is a general fatigue, an underlying anxiety woven into the tapestry of our lives during this time of COVID19. Staying home eases my mind, but we’re all facing the unknown. Every single person on the planet is facing the unknown at a basic, daily life level and in the future, all at the same time.

I’ve been thankful for our connectivity and grateful for information, but I see the old social and political battle lines reappear in this new context. Not only do I not see this public health crisis bringing us closer, bridging our differences in order to care for each other, it seems after simmering under the surface, the tension is rising. Armed protesters rallying and railing against state and local governments for trying to follow the White House’s own guidelines, cheered on by President Trump. Nasty arguments on social media. The chasms look to be growing wider.

The virus has affected everyone in profound ways. I wonder if my fatigue is part of a larger, societal angst. Or, I’m overthinking and it’s just my fibromyalgia.