coffeebarconfessions

Last week I about came undone when my fibromyalgia symptoms decided, out of the blue, to take over my body again. In addition to feeling awful, I was panicked. The last thing anyone who's wrangled some sort of a life back from chronic illness wants is to give it up again. Of course, my melodramatic mind usually goes to worse-case scenario, so that's exactly where I went. With every muscle on fire, my body aching so bad it hurt to sit, and feeling like someone's snapping me indiscriminately with rubber bands in thirty-second intervals, Chicken Little over here got myself so worked up I decided the sky was indeed falling. I was so flipped out I didn't even realize what was actually wrong with me until I was walking through the air-conditioned living room both sweating profusely and shivering violently at the same time. That's when it hit me, I have the flu! First reaction-- thank God! The flu doesn't last forever, so I can deal with the flu, right? Second reaction

Things aren't exactly stabilizing over here in managed-fibro land. In fact, despite my most determined efforts, my health seems to be rapidly declining. Well maybe that's a bit dramatic, but I'm certainly experiencing a persistent flare-up of symptoms that has me marching down a road I've been down many times before-- leading straight to the land of "too sick to do anything but be sick." I'm canceling plans, calling in sick to work, and trying not to spiral into a panicked fit of paranoid PTSD that this stupid illness nobody understands and no one can cure is taking over my life again! I mean, it can't! No no no no no! I refuse to let it! I've fought back so hard and won, right? It took me many years to get here, but now that I'm here I own it, don't I? Sadly, as someone who's lived with fibromyalgia for a number of years, I know the answer to all of the above is "wrong." Because the bottom line is at any time, despite my rabi

Here I sit, the victim of yet another involuntary 7:30 a.m. wake-up call. Which in and of itself wouldn't be so awful if I had actually gone to sleep at midnight when I got in bed, not screwed around on social media until I wasn't-so-sleepy at one-thirty in the morning. Regardless, that was my choice then, and this is my reality now, so what on earth do I do with my racing brain that simply won't turn off once it gets flipped on? Since all this funny business started, my flares are getting worse and ability to cope is degrading... I absolutely suck at meditating. Although I know full well the mind is a muscle and exercising it into relaxation is both important and takes practice, I haven't jumped on the bandwagon yet. What I am doing, however, is looking at my coffee consumption. My relationship with coffee is a dependent and joyful attachment, but we have a bit of a history. I had to give up coffee entirely when I was first sick with CFS/ME. Since the caffeine's st

I've been fighting for survival for so long, sometimes I forget there's another way to live. A path of gentle acceptance that's much easier to walk down. Of course, I hate where that path leads, hence the constant and pervasive fighting, but sometimes the struggle becomes all too real and I can't override my inclination to bury my head in the sand. Today is one of those days. Thankfully, the "I absolutely cannot do anything but crash-and-burn" moments have been hitting on my day off, for the most part. For trying to force myself into a push-up bra and eyeshadow when I feel this awful is an exceptionally disrespectful experience. But who on earth has free days to just while away the misery? I mean I did for years, when I was too sick to do anything but be sick, but now I'm stuck on the "contributing member of society" train and simply don't. Except the path of gentle acceptance doesn't allow me the luxury of getting all bent out of shape b