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It’s 11:04 am. I’ve been up since just before nine, a little more than two hours. One cup of coffee, read headlines, and dealt online with a data breach of a previous employer that may or may not affect me.

Although I really want to shower right now, the chronic fatigue that has been a major player in my constellation of symptoms currently is heavy on me physically like a weighted blanket. It lies across my chest, ribs and legs from the hips. Taking a shower is challenging when I feel this way. The last time I got in despite still being drained, following hot tub and rest, I couldn’t stand through my regular routine, and not for the first time. Ended up lying on the floor, half in the shower and half on the bath mat, repeating, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Laid there until I could get up and flop on the bed. That was it for the day.

The day, it’s so beautiful. I’m looking out my bedroom slider at the sun shining in a clear blue sky with birds singing. My heart says, “Take a shower! Get dressed! Let’s go clean out the succulent garden of debris from the trees, pine needles and such! Remember? Last night you said we might if the weather is good.”

With the blanket of fatigue layered over pain in my ribcage and neck, the weakness of leg muscles, the vertigo when I move, my brain and body respond together, “Are you serious? Do you remember how this goes? Yes, we have a bath stool to sit on now if we can’t make it, but we’re telling you now, we can’t make it! Maybe, just maybe, we’ll all be ready later.”

My heart knows we’re rarely ready later if it’s this way only two hours in.

Published by Sara Z

Writing is one of my passions. Most blog entries are relatively short articles regarding a wide variety of topics. I'm a middle-aged wife and mother of two adult sons. I've been a teacher, counselor, medical transcriptionist, student teacher supervisor, substitute teacher and retail clerk. Staying home now due to fibromyalgia. Seeking purpose.

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