Living with an invisible illness isn’t easy. Outside: people assume that because you look fine that you are fine. Inside: you have to learn where your limits are and constantly balance against the effects of your illness. When you are constantly confronted with your own weakness or inability you have to come to accept these limitations or they will crush you. Yet sometimes, like any caged animal, you can’t help but rage against the bars holding you back.
I’m fine right up until I’m not.
Most days I don’t have to think about my limitations anymore. I have a routine to follow and I know all my warning signs for when I’m overdoing it. Day to day life is under control, I can even slot in special events with minimal warning, but sometimes that’s not enough.
I don’t know if it’s a series of little pressures or having to turn down too many activities but ultimately I get this build up of pressure. I’m easily frustrated by my limitations and yearn for things I’ve long since had to give up. Suddenly I’m just angry about everything. Angry about my limitations, angry at all the medication I have to take, angry that my friends have to be extra considerate of me, just angry at this invisible monster squatting on my life.
Rebel, Rebel.
So like an angsty teenager I rebel against it. I push beyond where I should. I put off taking my medication so I can stay awake later and mess up my sleep schedule because of it. I eat junk because screw you illness you can’t tell me what to do, you aren’t my
The time between these health rebellions has increased as I’ve learned about fibromyalgia and it’s various handmaidens. The better I get at managing my resources the slower the pressure builds but it never completely stops. I should probably try to find a better outlet for those feelings but I’m not sure where to even start.
It’s been five or six years now yet I can still remember how it felt without this monkey on my back. Walking was my greatest stress reliever, I would go out pound the pavement and think through whatever was bothering me. Now the stillness that my illness enforces has stripped me of this action and I seem to be left with scarfing chips, watching scary movies, and staying awake till four am once every three months.