Some say that all time is relative, years can feel like a matter of days while days or even hours can feel like weeks have passed. When time is so uncertain how does one even attempt to prepare for the future?
I have begun to come to that point in my journey where I am maintaining a steadily positive routine and I am probably as close to “normal” as I may ever get and I am as high functioning as I may ever be. But what is normal? Most people agree that there is no normal, but to someone with fibromyalgia there is a level of normalcy that goes out the window.
The best way I can describe this “normal” is having days or even just one day where you wake up and all you have to think about is the things that are going to happen in your day, how you’re getting there, your responsibilities. Not having a day where the majority of your brain capacity is taken up by the nagging pains, planning for how much your body will be able to do in comparison to all of the things you need to do. I have to accept the reality that I may never have “normal” days again.
But how do you accept that at only 20 years old you may never have a normal day again in the rest of your life? Will I be taking these same prescriptions for the, god willing, next 60+ years of my life? There is no end to fibromyalgia, there is no cure and there is no terminal diagnosis. There are just never ending days of figuring out how to get yourself out of bed every morning.
Distractions can be great. Friends who rally around you and let you forget for a few hours, a meal of something you’ve been craving that provides some amount of comfort, or that rehearsal where you get to dance and you worry about the pain later. But then at some point you are again alone with the same thoughts you once had and your only choice is to try to reflect on the moments where you were distracted because those are the things that give you the motivation to go on.
“Some things don’t last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down on the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there.”