The "F" Word

Today's disappointment is brought to you by the letter "F." F as in Fibromyalgia. Or fucking fibromyalgia as I usually refer to it. Some days are better than others, obviously, but lately I've had more bad then good. Maybe it's the stress of being out of work. Worrying about bills and money and job searches. The stress of not being able to keep up with everyday household chores because I'm in too much pain & too exhausted.  Maybe the fibro beast who has been chasing me for the past 18 years has clawed its way closer and finally has his fucking hands around my throat.

Some days the beast has you by the scruff of your neck with an annoyance of pain and aches and other days... well... he's got you by the short hairs and you can't seem to get away. The pain is all consuming, overwhelming and, well, disappointing. My disappointment is nothing compared to the disappointment I see in my son's eyes. He'll be 10 in August and while he's an amazing, bright, wonderful little guy, he doesn't understand the fact that I'm sick all the time. Or that plans change in a blink of an eye when all of a sudden I feel like shit. Or that I can psyche myself up to go somewhere but the minute we get there, I'm ready to come back home. And why should he have to understand that? It's not fair. It's ridiculous that he should even be expected to understand what I have to go through on a daily basis with all the many, many health problems I have. Why should a 9 year old have to get his mom water because she literally can't MOVE from the bed or the couch?  Why should he have to deal with this? He didn't choose this.

Today has been a very rough day and he's once again disappointed that I'm unable to fulfill a promise I made to him to possibly get him to the game store to exchange some things. There were lots of tears (on my end) and feelings of inadequacy.  Now, I know I'm very, very lucky to have the support system I do at home because I know a lot of people with fibro or other debilitating illnesses who are on their own or live with someone who makes life very difficult for them to get the rest and help they need. My son just came in and hugged me and said he was sorry for getting upset earlier. I know I'm very blessed to have him and Jason in my life.


What is the most frustrating is that I can do all the things I'm suppose to do. I can take all my doctors recommendations and follow them to a tee. I can take all the drugs my doctor wants me to that are supposedly "helpful" to fibromyalgia patients and still, STILL, feel horrible all the time. There's no cure for fibro and it's frustrating as hell.  We need a cure. May 12th is Fibromaylgia Awareness Day and we need to spread the word about this nasty, vile disease.

Thanks everyone for letting blow the dust off my blog and vent a little. It's been a rough few months lately. I promise my next post will be more uplifting LOL

"Shot & Killed Sounds Way Too Violent"

I was helping B with his 3rd grade homework. His assignment is to write a timeline on someone famous, someone he admired or someone he knew. He chose Martin Luther King, Jr.. (Side note: this shows how sweet & intelligent my kiddo is because he was talking about facebook recently and my suggestion was for him to do the assignment on the Zuck. Instead, he chooses MLK. I really should be ashamed of myself lol)

So I was telling him the date MLK was shot & killed so he could write it down.

Braidon: "I'm not sure my teacher wants me to write something as violent as he was "shot & killed."

Me: "Well that's what happened and it *was* violent so how would you like to word it?"

Braidon: "How about 'he was hit with a metal piece that came bursting out of someone's gun? Probably on accident' because that sounds less violent."

Me: *staring at him with big, round eyes* "Honey, you're turning this in to your teacher whom I'm sure knows how MLK was killed."

Braidon: "Isn't there enough violence in the world without me having to write about it?"

Me: "touché son, touché."

It's sad when you can summarize the last 8 months in one paragraph...

I'd like to have some amazing, fabulous story to share about my disappearance from the blog world for the past 8 months. Some astonishing, outrageous, wonderful reason I stopped blogging.

But I don't.

I found a job that has become the bane of my existence. In a call center. Listening to whiny ass people complain all day. To say that I loathe this job wouldn't do justice to my feelings. I detest it from the tips of my purple painted toe nails to the top of my recently rebellious frizzy haired head. (Seriously, I've never had frizzy hair until the past 6 months. What IS that all about? Why now in my late 20's? All right, fine! Early 30's. Whatev...)

Let's just say there's been lots of rum & Xanax involved on a daily basis since I started. But, at least it's work right? So I shouldn't complain. Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't, just that I *shouldn't!*

Lots of things have been shaken up here at home so it's been hard to find the time to blog. Plus my poor laptop wheezed & shuddered & then went to the little laptop heaven in the sky. I should have it back in a few days and I'm so excited I may wet myself. Just a little. We have a fancy computer downstairs, where I'm currently writing, but it's too scary to use. When we got it months ago there was lots of talk from Mr. Man in fancy acronyms and computer gibberish I couldn't understand, it does a billion things I wouldn't have the slightest clue how to use (or why we need them) and so I stay away from it. Luckily i have a Droid for my cell so it's kept me online while my laptop was being fixed.

In short: got a job, had a crappy shift, didn't have a life or time for anything besides work for the first 6 months there, never saw Mr Man & B, my health got worse because of the stress, my family was hit by the economy and 2 members have lost their jobs, my mom had major surgery (and is still recovering), changed to a less crappy shift at work but have to work weekends now, went on a trip to Vegas (wahoo), agreed to let 2 of our friends have their wedding in our backyard this month (I know! What was I thinking?!?! lol), and found out I have ovarian cyst problems.

There it is, in a nutshell. Good times people... Good times.

So, since I'm terrified of this fancy computer, scared I will press some innocent looking button & it will blow up a neighboring city somehow (the damn thing is blinking furious green & blue lights at me from all it's little connected boxes) I'm signing off for now.