I try not to write about my pain very often anymore.
For awhile there, I saturated myself in everything fibromyalgia. I read every article I could find, followed a bunch of fibro groups on Facebook, and cried on a daily basis. I missed my old life, my job, my independence, the ability to act spontaneously. I missed what my life had been like, before whatever reason my fibro decided to show itself more prominently.
Not that I am saying I don’t miss being well and whole. I do with a raging passion.
I won’t lie. Raw and honestly, I always hurt. I never feel very good. Even on decent days, deep down I just feel unwell. No amount of marijuana or pain pills fixes it. Those are just band-aids.
It was killing me, though. I lost sight of the fact that I am still alive, even though some days I wonder why. (This isn’t a suicidal call for help, I swear.)
I just don’t want to be pissed off anymore. I want some peace, finally.
It’s very simple, and simple is good.
I’m reminded of a quote from Red in the movie, ” The Shawshank Redemption.” (I still have it on VHS if anyone is interested.)
“I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living, or get busy dying.”
Admit it, you did.