Weekly Photo Challenge: Silence

Silence is to be able to contemplate the small, the tiny, the insignificant, and find the image of its beauty within yourself.

As much as that sounds like a quote from somebody famously enlightened, that just came from me. And I absolutely refuse to carry on the internet tradition of assigning fake quotes to famous names.

Besides, I truly mean it.

I clicked that photo yesterday, just as the sun was coming up on a rare snowy day in the Deep American South. I was enchanted by that flock of clover sticking up from the snow, like nothing could keep it down. It was intent on being a bright burst of color in the white landscape.

There was nobody else out that early, with the temperature in the frigid lower teens (-10°C, for those unfamiliar with the Fahrenheit scale). It was quiet and beautiful. Peacefully serene. I could hear myself think, and that is always a good feeling.

Yesterday wasn’t a particularly great day for me. The cold and frequent fluctuations in the weather had me achy at best, and spasming at worst. But that moment of tranquility, as the sun came up and reflected its colors on the snow, was one to cherish.

That moment was my own bright burst of color for the day. I could feel its beauty and peace. It was my private escape into silence.

Love,

Fibronacci

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Weathering the Daily Struggle

“There’s a lot going on right now.”

That’s been a common refrain for me since I started a new job and my husband had to have emergency knee surgery. I know it sounds like an excuse when I say that about why I don’t have time to read, or to paint, or hang out with friends. They probably think it is an excuse too. But the one who used to take care of everything else so I could work and pursue my hobbies is now severely limited in what he can do. So it’s all on me now. I just hope that whenever I say that, nobody asks me what exactly is “on me now.”

Because the truth is that there nothing going on with me right now that hasn’t been going on forever in everybody else’s lives. But with a chronic illness like fibromyalgia which limits my daily energy levels, those same daily activities feel like they are draining the life out of me, when for everybody else they’re just mildly annoying chores that they mostly don’t even think about.

To say that daily living chores and a fairly physically non-taxing job is wearing me out, I imagine is eliciting eye rolls right now. Like I should stop whining and suck it up at adulting. I am embarrassed to even admit it; it makes me feel weak and stupid. But it is also a frustrating reality I cannot escape.

For a while, I was taking care of my husband’s personal care routine when he was mostly bedridden. I will spare you the grisly details; suffice to say it was nothing physically taxing for a normal healthy person. He mostly took care of himself, all I had to do was arrange his things where he could reach them, and clean up after him. But now that he can hobble about the house, I don’t even have to do that. He’s even taken over meal preparations again, so we don’t have to eat like freshman undergrads anymore! (If you’re wondering about that last statement – I’m a foodie who doesn’t cook, and seriously lucked out with a husband worthy of chefhood!)

The rest of the “lot [that is] going on right now” is just everyday stuff that for most people is mindless living. I wake up early, limp to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast, I get dressed and work a full-time job. On the weekends I clean the house, do the laundry and get groceries for the week.

Nothing at all that seems out of the ordinary! Everybody I know does all of that and more, and still finds time for friends, books, hobbies, and exercise.

And yet yours truly collapses every day after work, unable to even consider going for the evening exercise class. I look forward to the weekend when I could rest. But even with my “tips and tricks” to ease my load, the weekends often end up being worse than the weekdays.

Laundry, house cleaning, dish washing, all take more arm and leg work than one might imagine. And I don’t even do a particularly thorough job of any of it. The walking and frequent bending/reaching during grocery shopping has always been hard for me. So we switched to online groceries that we now simply pick up at the store. But carrying those home, putting them up, all eat up pieces of my energy pie. Some activities eat a larger slice than others, and at the end of the day, I am barely left with crumbs.

So I am left weathered every night either passing out in exhaustion or unable to sleep because of the pain and discomfort. I am nearly continually in a flare these days, rendered functional only by virtue of tramadol. And a cold I fought for a week did nothing to help that situation.

I am also left cringing in shameful embarrassment at how far my life and fitness has fallen. For a long time it seems I had stopped thinking about how much fibromyalgia intruded into my daily life. When my husband took care of practically everything, and encouraged me to save all my energy for things that bring me meaning, peace and happiness, he did it all so apparently effortlessly! He never made me feel indebted for all that he does. Though I was always grateful, I now have a renewed level of appreciation for him and for everything he did. In doing them, he was saving me massive slices of my energy pie, because all those activities that are nothing for him are seriously draining for me. But most of all, I am grateful that he did all of that without making me feel any the less for not being able to be functional like a “normal” person.


I know this post ended up being something of a rant, but sometimes cheer takes too much effort. My hope is that this post sheds some light on what everyday life can be for someone with a chronic illness like fibromyalgia. And if you are a “healthy” reader who has an invisible illness warrior in the family, I hope this helps you understand what a struggle just everyday living can be for them, and why sometimes they are unable to partake in things that take no effort on your part.

The last few weeks with my husband’s immobilized leg haven’t been all bad however. There have been silver linings and moments of reflection. I promise to write more about them in a later post.

Love,

Fibronacci