However well-laid my plans or adept my ability to delude myself about having some measure of control in this life, many days do not follow the course as mapped out the night before.
I wrote the paragraph above this morning at about 11 am. It is now 4 o’clock and I just sent this text to my husband:
“Picked up the dog’s written rx for Costco. Picked up my and son’s prescriptions. Shopped a few items at a store. Saw Dr. Mitchell. Stopped back by store to drop off two written rx for change in dosages. Got a text from pharmacy. Cost after insurance on one prescription for a one month supply is $258.00. Not happening. Dr. Liz’s phone just rings and rings – no answering machine picking up. I’m feeling like I need to stop. I’ve done enough for today. I’ll still fry up fajita stuff. I’m just teary and a bit overwhelmed. And I HATE that for you. I wish I could be stronger for you. I used to be sometimes.”
My intention, when I began this post, was to write a dry, humerous missive about how much of my time I spend saying I’m sorry or thinking how sorry I am. Though it’s out of my control, I feel like somehow it’s a personal failing when I have to cancel plans because of pain or fatigue. My chronic pain and other fibromyalgia symptoms frequently interfere with what I’ve planned for my day. Completing my own mental to-do list in spite of how I’m feeling physically is my modus operandi. Postponing chores or errands, or even worse – putting them on my husband’s honey-do list, feels like a defeat, an indicator of what I’m not able or capable of doing.
If you’re a fibromyalgia skeptic, that’s okay. I used to be too.
My best efforts are made to not be “whining” about every ache pain nausea, dizziness, fatigue,…. you get the picture. The subject does surface when I’m apologizing for not being able to carry through with plans or why I’m going bed at 4 p.m.
The new insight I have is that repeatedly apologizing for a condition, syndrome, set of widely varying symptoms over which I have no control is more annoying than the impact on our daily lives of having to accommodate my energy and pain levels.
I even feel like apologizing to whoever’s reads my posts about depression, anxiety, and chronic pain because I don’t want to be Debbie Downer.
What the hell. I started this blog to document my recovery from the worst bout of serious depression I’ve ever suffered. It’s a blessing I haven’t needed to pour out more darkness and despair since those first few weeks.
My husband texted me back:
“You are fine baby..you got a lot done! Chillax a while, i will be leaving here shortly, be home to get RX and go to Costco”
He’s such a good guy, and I feel so fortunate to travel life’s ups and downs with him. ❤
A bit later: I realized all I’d had all day was half a Costco muffin with a little, cardboard protein drink. Always more likely to cry when I don’t eat regularly.