It hit. The colossal flare I knew in the back of my mind I was marching toward but somehow thought a positive attitude could prevent. See I did it again. I've done it lots of times. Convinced myself my behavior causes direct consequence to my health. To a small degree it does, but in actuality it's resoundingly the other way around. I do think it's normal to question "living sick" every so often by challenging the status quo. Normal, even if the outcome is terribly devastating to any sense of progress a person tries to make. So here I sit all pissed off and bent out of shape I because I am being horribly punished for...trying to improve my life.
The absurdity makes me so angry at this stage in my journey. Real, normal, healthy life is just out of my grasp, a feather's whisper away from my reach. It mine as well be miles, though. Closing the gap on living sick and living like a human being with chronic illness is a long and arduous road. Some days I don't think I can possibly take another step. Today is one of those days.
But just like the need to ruffle myself up and polish both my dining room table and toenails to perfection passes, this misery will wane too. Nurturing myself back to balance will nullify a significant amount of the progress I made on my road to self-improvement. Once I balance out again I will be able to pick up a few feet of the mile long progress I prayed was ahead of me. And I'll keep going. I always do. I figure at the rate I'm going I just might have this Fibromyalgia thing down by the time I'm 92.
Thanks for joining,