When our lives change, even for the better, our stress increases. When you have fibromyalgia, that usually means your pain and your fatigue change… and not for the better. As I wrote about earlier, I’m facing some a proverbial barrel of the gun in terms of changes: I’ve been promoted, and I’m starting a graduate school program. Yeah, I think I’m crazy too.
The promotion, however, made sense to take for a slew of reasons (for starters, who wants to train their own boss in how to do a job you basically know how to do?). I’m significantly healthier than I was two years ago, but the promotion means changes to my work accommodations. I haven’t worked full-time in two years; I have worked 100% from home for the last year and change. Big changes. Huge. Monumental. I even get my own office at work, but I get my own office that I have to be in on a regular basis. Not a full-time presence, thank goodness, but I have to have that presence in the office.
I’m about to finish my second week of working full-time with regular visits to the office. Every day last week, I came home and felt done by 4:30. I was exhausted. My husband cooked every night. I managed no housework. I did nothing for our kiddos. I managed little beyond needing to rest, rest some more, and go to bed by about 7 or 8, as late as I could manage. It wasn’t fun. This week has been better until I hit my first full-on body-in-revolt flare. I woke up feeling terrible, ended up with a migraine, and could barely stay awake by 3 p.m. I took a two hour lying in bed off and on dozing nap. My husband made dinner again; I had been back to cooking this week, and it was my turn. I tried quilting a bit but struggled there too. We ended up cuddled up in bed watching a new show. (My husband hates streaming shows on the laptop in bed, but he never complains when I ask to because, well, if you haven’t picked up on a trend in any of my writings, he’s a sublime human with a generous and kind soul).
If it’s not clear by now, the last two weeks have been very, very hard on me. My aches and pains are higher. My fatigue is higher. Still, I soldier on because that’s what we do when we have chronic illnesses that affect our daily lives that we still need to live on a daily basis. I’m hoping that my body adjusts to these changes soon. Surely, surely it will, it should, it really must. My graduate Latin class starts in ten days, and I could really use a little equilibrium with my fatigue before I throw another wrench in my schedule.