It’s been 3 years now since my life started to go down the tubes. I had quit my job, spent hours in bed curled into the fetal position, not caring about anything, dwelling on death.

My death. I didn’t want to be here anymore, not at all.

It took me a couple of months before it dawned on me that something wasn’t quite right in my head, and I finally went to the mental hospital. They tweaked my meds and taught me DBT. I had thought that I was cured, but in fact the fun had only gotten started.

It’s been two years since my fibro went from mild to severe. It was a slow process, that started in my hips, and then spread throughout my body like a wildfire. It caught me completely off guard. Until then, I had been able to outrun it, pushing myself to be well, and never allowing it to define who I was as a human being.

I think that we are all taught to push ourselves at a young age. That don’t give up, never surrender sort of thing.

I could only do three sit ups in gym class as a kid.

You can’t lose something that you don’t have to begin with.

Damn if that teacher didn’t push me to do five instead.

Which is all well and good in theory, but what happens when you just can’t anymore? What happens if you just don’t have the strength and endurance to “push it?”

I’m told constantly by my husband and my mother to rest, and take it easy. There are no more days left when I feel strong and full of pep. It’s almost like I have a license to sit around on my ass and chill. Put that broom down, don’t make that spaghetti sauce, just relax.

I get tired of relaxing. I become weary of it. I am bored and lonely. The walls here in my home know the familiar feeling of my longing gaze.

Walking. I miss it. Not to say that I am completely unable to walk. I know that there are many people who can’t at all. So, in many ways I feel guilty, like I am being a petty bitch when I complain of the intense pain in my legs that never abates, even when I am completely still.

I’m told by my doctor to keep hoofing it, and I do, to the best of my ability, as painful as it is. In my case, pain does not mean that there is any damage or harm being done to my body.

Pain is usually a warning that something is amiss, but chronic pain has no real rhyme or reason. It just is.

If I push too hard, I pay. If I don’t push, I pay. It seems to be a no win situation.