Happy Monday Everyone! I hope everyone reading had a better weekend than myself. My summer season has gotten off to a rocky start and it isn’t even officially summer. My weekend was spent with me taking up an all too familiar space: the bed
My weekend was spent with me taking up an all too familiar space: the bed
It all started last Wednesday when the histamine/allergy monster attacked me with greater force than the days before. I ended up enduring two asthma attacks before 2 PM and was forced to hit the hay hours before I had planned. There went my Wednesday afternoon.
The rest of the week is foggy but let’s just say I never quite recovered from the trauma of the asthma attacks or my bulky nebulizer. By the time Saturday morning came around, I knew what had happened as soon as I splashed water on my face and looked into the mirror… I was in a flare.
I was in a flare
And not just any ol’ flare. This was a chronic fatigue flare. The kind of flare that is devoid of pain but heavy on drowsiness, slumber, grogginess, and hours (literally) hours of sleeping through a thick heavy fog.
I didn’t even try to fight it. I didn’t get upset. I wasn’t mad. In the couple of minutes that I could sustain a semblance of alertness, I canceled my entire weekend schedule, washed the dishes left in my sink, drank a glass of water and walked zombie like to my bed.
The time if I recall was 7:30AM and I repeated this cycle throughout the course of the day into the night and into Sunday. The thing about fatigue flares is that you feel nothing and you exist in a vacuum with quick bursts of alertness coupled with endless hours of deep heavy sleep. There’s no feeling of tiredness just heavy sleep. I feel better now. A lot better (of course I do or I wouldn’t be typing this post).
Sometimes in order to win you have to lose.
I’m proud of myself for accepting my fate. I’m happy I allowed the monster its victory without a fight. I also know that I am the true victor in this battle. Why you ask? Well, because sometimes in order to win you have to lose. Waving the white flag isn’t an act of defeat but a declaration of maturity. An admittance and acceptance of a condition that is invisible and inevitable. I also realize that it’s been months since I’ve had a full blown flare of any kind. Remembering this means that I’ve won the battle more times than not. Inch by inch and day by day I’ve lived without fibromyalgia and CFS taking over my life. And for that I am grateful.
How was your weekend?
