Here’s the thing…when I look around and see people who are much worse off than I am, I feel guilty for struggling at all. In fact, I get angry with myself for even considering their struggles in the first place. Really, my pain pales in comparison to so many others. Who am I to feel sorry for myself? Then I feel shame; I have no right feeling this way.
When did I become so weak? There was a time I believed I could take on the world. Nobody scared me. Nothing scared me. The bigger the challenge, the more I thrived.
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When did that change? A year ago, I was facing this latest challenge head-on. I was learning to LIVE with Fibromyalgia. I was reaching acceptance. I was learning to cope and I was getting stronger.
What happened? People came into my life under the guise of helpfulness. They never intended to help me. I don’t know why, but for whatever reason, they have taken away what little peace of mind I had.
This is a long and difficult process, trying to accept this new weak version of me. I am trying not to feel like a failure, though I have failed.
Acknowledging my condition is difficult. Acceptance is painful. Yet these people make me say “I am weak” and “I can’t” over and over again.
Tell me, please what is the answer? I am dealing with someone who lies. Someone who has clearly stated that she does not believe in Fibromyalgia, let alone that I have it. It’s just a label, she says. A label they give to overachieving women, heading toward fifty, who have burned themselves out by doing too much for too long.
I knew I was in trouble the minute I realized she believes she knows more than everyone, including doctors. I was tempted to ask if she also knew the cure but figured I should keep my mouth shut.
She is a bully and I know that I need to stand up for myself, but I am so tired. I do have one distinct advantage though, and that is truth. I have not lied. I will not lie.
Perhaps it’s time to face a weakness I have had for as long as I can remember; the inability to ask for help when I need it. The time has come in my life when I need to ask for help. I can do this, just not alone, and that for me is a difficult pill to swallow.
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