Every morning commences an epic personal battle. To the outside observer, it may seem nonexistent, inconsequential, even laughable. The daily hurdle I face is one most people leap over without a second thought beyond the usual groans of having to leave the warm cocoon of sleep for the demands of the day. For me, it is not that I want to stay slumbering and hidden away from the world, it is that I want to boldly leap into the new day, but my body physically refuses.
Think of it like trying to kick a stubborn mule into walking when he doesn’t want to. That’s how I start every day of my life with fibromyalgia.
This morning was especially rough. After a unusally demanding and long Tuesday, my mule of a body decided it was just fine staying immobile under the covers, thank you very much. I sighed, reasoned, argued, and even threatened (no breakfast for you if you don’t get out of bed this instant!), but still my muscles dug in to the sheets and refused to budge. Sometimes, when my muscles and brain are at an impasse, I give up, releasing back into unconsciousness or grabbing a book and reading the day away.
But not today. And certainly not on days I have nonnegotiable obligations. So I prod, I stretch, I remind myself of everything I hope to accomplish in the day. I reminisce on how satisfied I feel with life the days I greet the sunrise, coffee cup and writing pen in hand. Some days I lose the battle, other days I struggle valiantly until I finally emerge victorious into the brightness of late morning.
And today I conquered. I faced down my sluggish muscles and ordered them to carry me to the kitchen. Then I sat down with a rejuvenating cup of coffee, allowed the caffeine to soak into my veins, and heaped on the heating pads as I settled in for a day of writing and research.
Yes, I am wrapped in three heating pads. I never said I vanquished my mule. Only dragged it braying and squealing into the next room. Tomorrow the battle begins all over again. Who will prevail? Stay tuned.