Suffering in Silence / Fibro Update

Other than my husband, no one else knows the extreme pain and horrific-ness of the past few days.

The extreme temperatures here in Chicagoland {and across much of the U.S.} has really flared up my Fibromyalgia.

It's been brutal. For me.

I've really struggled so much with talking about my Fibro symptoms lately. Still trying to figure out that fine line of awareness versus complaint. Longing to be heard and understood in a loud world. Longing to be recognized for what I deal with, while not wanting to minimize anyone else's worse pain or suffering.

This comes in the midst of email exchanges with a dear friend suffering a great, great loss. She said goodbye to her sweet baby girl a little over a month ago. Her baby lived a mere 6 hours, but had a profound impact on many, me included. It also comes in the midst of Facebook messages with an older friend I grew up going to church with, a lady whose grandson died at the age of 6 months, one year ago yesterday. It comes in the midst of seeing a friend posting on Facebook about her absolutely terrifying health issues and concerns, with no seeming answers to the Lyme disease issues ravaging her body. It comes in the midst of those I know going through cancer treatments, like watching a 3-year-old boy finally rid his body of cancer but still feeling the great effects of his brain tumor, cancer-ravaged body.

And I feel selfish for even mentioning my own pain and fatigue, so this is a hard post for me to write.

But I feel like it also needs to be said.

Their stories don't lessen what's happening to me, but it changes the perspective. It yields my heart to compassion and mercy. To a less complaining attitude and a more grateful attitude.

Grateful that it's not worse, but ohhhh wishing it were better. Longing for Heaven where there will be no more pain or sorrow or grief or tears.

My current reality is blinding headaches every day, searing pain throughout my entire body, fatigue that hits me with a big whoomp!! when I try to get up in the morning, and more that I'll spare you.

But I push through. I manage. I have to. I'm thankful for an illness that has helped me to see the greater, deeper needs of others. To care for those in need. To learn how to take care of myself in different ways than I had ever anticipated. To have to watch my husband step up in places I wish he didn't have to.

Though I'm gripped by severe pain and fatigue... God is good. So very, very good.