A Dose Of Cuteness

Meet Max.  Max is my mom's new Shi-poo baby.  Max likes to dig holes.  In the mud.  All the time.  This little guy is a mess, but an oh-so adorable mess!  If you're having a bad day, hopefully his muddy little mug will make you smile.

Healthline's Best Health Blogs Contest

Healthline is running a Best Health Blogs Contest and I was honored to be nominated!  For the next 32 days voters can cast a vote once a day.  First place is $1000, second place is $100, and third place is $50.  If you've enjoyed my blog and facebook page, I ask that you cast a vote for me each day through January 15th.  It's simple and quick.  Just click HERE then in the search bar type The Fibro Frog, then click on the magnifying glass.  That will bring my entry up.  Then, just click "vote".  That's it!  :)

Thanks in advance for voting for The Fibro Frog and sharing the link for more votes!  Sending gentle butterfly hugs to you all!

Love,
Amy

Random Thoughts

So many times in the past, I've found myself wondering if I did something horrible to deserve to live with the health issues I have.  I wondered if it was some sort of punishment.  Karma.  Tonight, as I sit here with a cold or the flu that's wrecking havic on my respitory system from my COPD, my mind wanders down that path again.  

I know that's a silly train of thought.  I know what kind of person I am, and what kind of person I've always been.  I've always had a good, loving heart.  Of course I have some bad qualities, and I'm certainly not a Saint, ....but overall I'm a good person.  I've never done anything bad enough to deserve to be sitting here gasping for air.  To live in pain every day of my life.  To never have any energy.

All of that thinking leads me in circles.  Circle after circle until my brain is dizzy and spinning.  Question after question pops into my head.  Why do good people die young?  Why do some really bad people get away with murder (literally) ...or rape  ...or child abuse.  They go unpunished sometimes by the legal system.  They also sometimes go unpunished by karma.  They have their health.  They a lot of times are wealthy.  What in the world could I have done to deserve a life like this?  Is there really such a thing as karma?  I don't think there's really such a thing as karma because if there is, it isn't making much sense.  

Is it all just random luck?  I've always heard that a person makes their own luck.  I'm not sure I believe that.  Sure, a person can do things in their lives to try and help give them an advantage ...but to truly make your own luck?  I don't know.  

I end up going back to punishment again.  Maybe, it's some sort of punishment for not taking advantage of all the opportunities in life that had come my way. Maybe it really is karma.  Karma saying "You were just slumping through life instead of doing what you were meant to do, so it doesn't really matter if you live life or not".  

Ever since I was a small child, I had wanted to be a doctor.  At the age of 11, my walls were plastered with posters of the human body.  Anatomy posters.  Drug rep posters.  Any poster that my doctor had graciously given to me, that he'd received from reps.  He knew my desire to one day go to medical school.

At age 12, my doctor asked me if I'd like to start coming in on Saturdays and shadowing him, to feed my never ending desire for medical information.  I was ecstatic!  Every Saturday from 9am-12pm I'd follow him around like I was really something important, and I'd take in his every move and every word to patients.  I can not begin to tell you my excitement when one day he asked if I'd like to assist him bereaving some skin from a burn on someone's hand (after getting their permission of course).  

Then a few years later I turned into a know-it-all-snot-nosed-teenager-who-thought-she-was-in-love.  At the age of 17, I informed my parents that I wanted to take senior english and senior government through independent studies so that I could graduate that year ...my junior year of high school.  I told them I wanted to graduate a year early, and get married in June right after graduation.  I had plenty of credits to graduate a year early, I just needed to have the mandatory english and government credits to do it.  

My parents about had a heart attack when I sprung this on them!  In my typical defiant teenager way, the tears started spraying and I started yelling at them that if they wouldn't sign for me to get married in June, that 5 months later when I turned 18 my boyfriend and I would just run away and get married.  Why my parents gave in to that tirade, I still don't know.  They finally agreed.  

Boy were we stupid.  He was a senior (where I was a junior) and he'd been accepted into an amazing college where he was going to major in engineering.  I had wanted to go to college for pre-med ..then eventually med school.  Instead, without a pregnancy even involved, we opted to throw that away in the name of love, and marry so very young.  Five months later, on my 18th birthday exactly, a doctor told me I was pregnant.  There went any dreams of college for either of us.

I worked hard throughout my life, but I was never very successful at anything. Without a proper secondary education I was at a huge disadvantage.  I worked one minimum wage job after another.  My marriage lasted for about 5 years, and 2 kids.  

That leads us to today.  I'm sitting home alone with my body killing me, coughing a lung up, running a fever, gasping for air, writing to you, and wondering why I've been dealt a crap sandwich for my health.  I'm never going to get the answers to my questions.  I'm never going to know why I have to live my life sick and in pain.  The only thing I *can* do, is keep smiling.  Keep hoping.  Keep believing.  Keep believing and hoping, that one day there will be a treatment plan.  

Hold on to hope everyone, and always try to smile.

   

I Need Heat!

I detest asking for any kind of help when it's for personal reasons, but I don't have a choice.  With my health conditions, going outside in the winter is hard enough on me, let alone living in a cold house, without a working furnace.

A couple weeks ago I went to bed with the furnace working fine.  The next morning when I woke up, it was chilly in the house.  I turned up the heat to take the chill off, and nothing happened.  I then realized something was wrong with the furnace.  

I have a friend that lives in another state and her husband owns a HVAC shop.  Her husband called me, and tried to walk me through some steps to see if he could figure out what the problem was.  He deducted that it wasn't something simple and said I'd have to have a technician come look at it.

After posting on a local garage sale site, a certified technician said that he'd repair it for me, just for the cost of parts.  He finally was able to come look at it this past Monday.  It turns out that I need a new inducer motor, control board, and something with my vent for the poisonious gases.  He looked up the price of the parts in front of me, and they're around $900  ...and I do believe that was before taxes.  He said a brand new furnace would run about $2000.  

To say this made me physically sick, is an understatement.  I'm disabled due to chronic neuroimmune health conditions and I live off of $721 a month.  That barely runs my household and buys food.  It's impossible for me to come up with the money on my own.

I contacted our community agencies and there's only one program that could help me out, but I don't qualify because you have to have insurance on your home.  I bought this house at sheriff sale and due to the number of years it sat empty without insurance, plus it's age, the cheapest home insurance quote I could find, was $387 a month.  No way in the world I could afford that, so the house isn't insured.  

I'm using an electric space heater, which scares me to death that it will cause a fire, and an electric blanket.  The heater is keeping it about 56 degrees in here right now, and we have colder weather that moved in today.  Next Tuesday on my birthday, November 18th, the high is only going to be in the 20's.  I live in NW Ohio, and it get's cold here!  

If I can get the money to repair the furnace, I'll do that.  If donations exceed the repair and are enough to replace my old furnace, I'll replace it.  If there's anything beyond that, I'll fix the hole in the roof in my back room, that's letting cold air pour in through it.  

Please help me spread my campaign by sharing it across your social media networks. You can click HERE to view or donate to this campaign.  Thanks so much!

Careful What You Wish For

There was this girl who had fibro.  We'll refer to her from here on out, as FG ...short for Fibro Girl.  She also had COPD and some other ailments.  FG had caught a bad cold last week and as we all know, when a person has fibro, everything is worse.  She drug her butt around sniffling and sneezing, and blowing her sore red nose.  Gasping for breath through a completely plugged nose she'd think "Boy, if only I could get over this cold".  Monday, she stopped sneezing and her head felt normal again but now her lungs were clogged.  She'd cough and wheeze and curse her crappy health.  

FG started to feel depressed.  Depression is a common co-condition of fibro, and FG deals with it from time to time. FG would sit around with tears welling up in her eyes.  She felt sad, and lonely, and depressed.  She wondered why she has to live day to day in pain.  She wondered why she only has a few friends that she can ever get together with.  She thought about how crappy of a person her ex-husband is, for leaving her just because of her health conditions.  FG even wondered if she'd now be alone for the rest of her life.  FG's latest idiotic saying lately has been "I couldn't even buy a date to McDonald's.  Some dude would take my money then through me out of the car before he turned into the parking lot".

Being nice, the boyfriend of FG's daughter told her last night not to make plans for supper tonight because he was going to take her out to eat at a buffet, with him and FG's daughter.  Today came and FG was so tired and fatigued, that she wasn't sure she could go out to eat.  Thinking it may do her more good than harm though, FG forced herself to go.  

FG was still in a funk.  It was so bitter cold.  Her muscles and joints started aching as soon as she walked out the door.  She was determined though, to enjoy herself for once.  

Shortly after arriving at the restaurant, FG was sitting there eating.  Her daughter and the boyfriend started whispering and giggling.  FG asked them "what's going on?".  FG's daughter said "just a minute" then pulled out her cell phone and sent FG a text.  It said "That creepy old man sitting diagonal from us won't quit staring at you mom, and he keeps smiling".  FG tried to be extremely casual about it, but looked over her shoulder to see a gentleman dining alone, openly staring at her.  FG just kind of shrugged it off.  

A bit later, FG got up to go get some more food.  She could feel eyes burning into her back all the way to the buffet tables.  Walking back to the table, Creepy Older Man was staring at her, looking her up & down, and smiling at her.  FG kept looking straight ahead, and found her seat.  

Now, FG has always had a kind heart for the elderly.  Always smiles and nods, or stops and talks, when she comes upon the elderly.  This gentleman though, was not that elderly.  He probably had a good 15 years on FG, but FG is over the hill only 43 years old.  So in the eyes of FG's 18.5 yr old daughter, he was an old man.  In FG's eyes, he was just an older man.  

FG was trying to eat, but she could feel eyes buring into her with every bite she took.  She couldn't help obviously non-chalantly glancing to see if her ever over-active imagination was taking over, or if her every move was being watched.  For once, she wasn't completely delusional.  Creepy Older Guy really was staring at her constantly.  By constantly, I mean only looking away to get food on his fork, then staring as he forked it into his mouth.  He'd smile the creepiest smile as he stared at her. It became unnerving.

By this point, FG was feeling self-conscious with every bite she took, herself!  FG saw Creepy Older Guy finally stand up and grab his coat, out of the corner of her eye.  She froze, half-scared that on his way old Creepy Older Guy would stop at the table and say something.  An audible sigh of relief was heard coming from FG's lips, as the gentleman passed the table without stopping.

The entire ride home, FG's daughter made little jokes about Creepy Older Man liking FG.  Once home, FG thought about the whole situation, and cracked up laughing!  Although some would think the non-stop, hyena-sounding laugh meant that FG had finally cracked and lost her sanity, FG knew it was a good sign.  Her bought of depression had finally some-what disapated.  She also had learned a valuable lesson when it came to complaining about being single and not being able to "buy a date to McDonald's".  She learned to be careful what you wish for ...because there will always be a Creepy Older Man Prince Charming out there somewhere, that you'll run across sometime in your life.

FG is in physical pain tonight.  The bitter cold makes her old bones ache and her muscles have sharp, shooting pains in them.  Still, she's thankful that she forced herself out of the house.  This has been good for her mind and soul.

My Weight Loss Journey

I can do that with my pants now, but too bad my body doesn't look like the one in the picture!  *sigh* It will come, in time, I guess.  It's been slow-going, but that's ok ...because it is going.  I continually keep reminding myself that I didn't put all that weight on over night.  Or in a month.  Or even in a year.  Therefore, I can't expect it to just be gone in a month or two.

Losing weight for me, has been different for me then it is for a lot of people.  Therefore I'm not sure if anything I say will help anyone else.  The journey hasn't been one of a lot of exercise.  Nor has it been one of a strict diet.  No pills or magic juices.  No herbs or "hunger-controlling" shakes.  Just some simple changes in my life.

Even as a small kid, I couldn't stand to eat breakfast.  I don't think there's ever been a day in my life where I'd wake up hungry.  Quite the contrary, when I'd first get up in the morning, the thought of food would literally make my stomach convulse.  It made me nauseous.  

In all honesty, I don't think I really get hungery in the sense most people would think about it, at all.  Nothing about my body is ever simple.  The way I would feel hunger, is that all of a sudden I'd get really sick to my stomach, and I'd feel like I was going to pass out.  I'd immediately think "Oh my gosh!  I need to eat something, I'm getting SICK!".  I'd look at the clock and  then think to myself "jeez, it's 4pm and I haven't eaten anything yet today.  No wonder I'm getting sick!  -Or it may be 2pm, or 5pm, or even 7pm.  

When my kids were little it wouldn't be a problem, because although I'd still personally skip breakfast, I'd eat lunch and supper with them when I made it for them.  I would always remember to feed my kids, I just have some sort of problem remembering to feed myself! lol  Once the kids hit school age, I stopped eating lunch too, because I wasn't making a lunch for myself.  My youngest child just turned 18, and for the past few years she was so busy with afer-school activities that I didn't really have a set time for our supper. 

The weight just started slowly creeping up on me from my poor eating habits.  My body was in starvation mode, so when I would eat something, my body would hoard it not knowing when it was going to get food the next time.  Bad, bad, bad eating (or more like non-eating) habit!

Meds have attributed to some of the weight gain too.  The weight gain I had on Amitriptyline is just ridiculous.  The med didn't even help my symptoms.  At all.  I felt like all I was doing was taking my fat pill.  Regardless, I stayed on it forever because my rheumatologist at The Cleveland Clinic swore by it and it's pretty much the only med that they prescribe there for Fibromyalgia patients.  -At least at the time I was going there, anyway.  I finally said the heck with it and stopped taking it.  I seriously didn't feel one ounce different taking it, than I did not taking it.  Stopping the Amitriptyline has definitely helped me with my weight loss.

In April of this year, I'd finally just decided that I'd had enough.  I'm sick of being lonely, and knew that my chances of ever having a guy be interested in my again were slim to none with the way I looked.  I was up to 271 pounds.  Besides wanting to find my soul mate, I just detested the way I looked.  I wouldn't take pictures with my kids or my grandkids, because I was too ashamed of how I looked.  I was embarrassed when I'd go to the store or anywhere in public.  

My best friends mom had been on an extended vacation to her home state, helping to take care of her elderly mother with dementia.  She'd been there a few months, and was nearing the time she was going to come back home.  This lady has been kind of like a 2nd mom to me.  I'd known her for 20 years.  My dad knew their family before I was even born!  She called me and wanted me to fly to MD and stay with her for 10 days, then ride home with her.  I'd never flown before in my life and I've had an ungodly fear of heights my since I was little.  I agred anyway though, thinking it would be good for me to get away for a bit.  Imagine my embarrassment and horror when I went to fasten my seatbelt on the plane, and it wouldn't even come close.  I was so embarrassed when the flight attendent handed me a belt extender.  Just humiliated.

This would be a good time to say that I had zero self-esteem, from all of the nasty, vile comments my ex-husband would make before he left me.  -He left me 2 months after my diagnosis was confirmed at The Cleveland Clinic, siting my health issues as being "too stressful" for him.  There's a whole blog post on here from last year about chronic illness ending in divorce for me.  The airplane seatbelt ordeal?  Yeah, it tanked me to about -100 on the self-esteem scale.  

After I'd been at the house for about a day, Sara said to me "Amy, we're going on a diet.  I have a lot of weight to lose, and so do you.  I'm worried about you being so heavy with the health conditions you already have.  I'm not saying this to be mean, I'm saying it because I love you."  I knew she was right.  I didn't want to be fat anymore.  Well, she was pretty strict on the diet thing.  Now don't get me wrong, I was stuffed.  I never ever went hungry.  But she forced me to eat.  She'd allow me 30-45 minutes to get woke up, then no matter how much I protested, she forced me to eat breakfast.  She hates carbs, and was a strict carb natzy, but I had all of the protein, veggies, and fruits that I could ever want.  

Sara started me off on this weight loss adventure.  She was so afraid that I'd go back to my old habits once I returned home.  I didn't though.  I admit that I'm not nearly as strict on carbs as she was, but I do eat a higher protein - lower carb diet.  I do (most days anyway) eat at least 3 meals a day and try to eat a snack or two.  I've been really bad the past few days though, and haven't been eating enough.  I haven't been eating breakfast.  I'm so incrediably proud though, of every pound that I've lost, that I will start forcing enough food (including breakfast) down my throat.  The weight loss kicked off with Sara on April 25th of this year.  I've noticed that every so often I start to fall back into the non-eating trap, but once I realize it I pull myself back up and start making sure I eat again.

I didn't exercise at all before.  I still don't exercise very much, because between my low lung function with the COPD, the pain my arthritis causes me, and the every day pain and fatigue of fibro, I just can't do much.  I do, do some now though.  I can only make it on my exercise bike for 2-3 minutes at a time.  If I possibly can that day, I ride it though.  On a really good day, I'll do it twice a day.  Some days instead of riding the bike, I walk around the block.  Again, on a good day, I'll do it twice a day.  Just recently, I started doing Zumba.  I do it here at home, using YouTube. I searched "beginning Zumba routines" and I have a few saved to a favorites list.  Right now, I can only make it through 2 songs in a row.  It's just a little over 7 minutes to complete them.  If I can, I do it twice a day.  Some days, I can't do it at all.  I figure that when you're as obese as I was (and still am), that any movement or exercise is better than no movement or exercise.  I'm not going to let it discourage me, because soon those 7 minutes will turn into 10 minutes.  Then 15 minutes. Then 30 minutes.  Then before I know it, I'll be able to do the whole 60 minute work out.  

I researched a lot about this food thing, since it's my biggest problem.  I learned that I don't have to gag down a big breakfast.  As long as I eat something as soon as I physically can after getting up, that it's ok.  The dietician I went to, told me even if it's a handful of dry cereal that's still enough to start my metabolism for the day.  I've also learned about all of the anti-oxidents in strawberries and blueberries.  After my breakfast, whatever it may be that day, I try within an hour or two, to go make a big huge glass of homemade fruit smoothie.  I use a handful of whatever frozen fruit I have on hand.  I make sure that I use either strawberries or blueberries in it, mixed with at least one other type of frozen fruit that I've picked up.  I add about 1/2 cup of plain yogurt to it, along with some honey to sweeten it, and either some juice or skim milk.  I pour it into a quart sized glass and I sip on it for a few hours.  -I've never been able to drink things very fast.  Within an hour or two after making the smoothie (usually I still have some left in my glass) I try to eat something for lunch.  Sometimes a low-fat turkey or ham sandwich, sometimes a salad, sometimes a couple eggs scrambled with a sprinkle of shredded cheddar cheese and some red & green bell peppers added in.  I keep my smoothie sitting there and usually "snack" on it between lunch & supper until it's gone.  

I don't add sugar to anything anymore except for one cup of coffee in the mornings.  I have to have it sweetened, and I refuse to use any type of artificial sweetner.  My rheumatologist at The Cleveland Clinic told me that artifical sweetner had been proven to cause more pain in fibro patients so to avoid it at all costs.  After that cup of coffee in the mornings, all I drink the rest of the day and night is ice water.  I've found in my research that the ice in the water helps you to burn more calories.  They say that your body uses more calories because it has to heat the water back up to normal body temperature, so the colder the better.  I've also learned that fresh lemon juice also helps to burn fat, as does cayenne pepper.  So, I try to always have fresh lemons in the refridgerator, and I cut & squeeze a couple of wedges into every glass of water.  I try to add cayenne pepper sauce to a lot of my food.  

Really, this is about all I've done to lose my weight.  I don't count carbs ...I just try to be conscience and not eat a lot of them.  I don't weight or measure my food.  When I found out that a lot of my weight problem was because I don't eat enough food, I was kind of mind-blown.  I'll be honest, I still don't usually eat as much in a day as I truly should.  I tried keeping track of everything I ate in a day for a couple weeks, and it was pure torture to try and hit the numbers that I was supposed to hit for a day.  -The calories, the protein, the carbs, the sodium, etc.  I kept track of all of it.  I was so full and it was honestly tiring trying to take in as much as I was truly supposed to.  It's just mind-blowing!

So, I've lost 39 pounds now since April 25th.  It's slow going, but it's going.  Every pound shed gives me back just a tiny bit of self-esteem.  Every pound shows me that I'm in control of this thing. Not the other way around.  Every pound, makes me a little more proud of myself.  I ran across a few photos of me earlier this month, that had been taken in January of this year.  I truly didn't realize what 30-some pounds lost looked like until I saw myself in January.  I seriously almost bawled at what I had looked like.  I made a college to show myself then, and show myself now.  That's the picture that's below.  I'm sure when I lose another 30-some pounds and college that pic with my current pic, I'll be just as blown away.  I will not ever give up.  One day, maybe a year or so from now even, I'll be back down to a healthy weight.  I'm not in a rush, I look at every single pound as a victory!  Thanks for getting me started on this Sara.  I'll always be grateful, and I'll always love you!

Finding Mr. Right

For those of you who are single, do you ever wonder if you'll find Mr. Right, now that you're affected by a chronic pain illness?  Do you ever wonder if there will ever be anyone out there, that will truly be able to understand and stick this thing called life, out with you?  Is there anyone out there that is NOT affected by a chronic pain illness, that will truly be able to "get it" and be able to understand what we're going through on our bad days?

Those of you who've been around my blog since the beginning, know that my husband left me a couple months after my official diagnosis.  That was lacking 6 days of being 15 months ago.  I'm ready to move on.  I'm ready to have someone in my life again.  Someone who I can talk to. Someone to hold my hand, and to give me hugs.  A man who I can take care of on my good days, and know that he'll take care of me on my bad days.  Someone to spend the rest of my life with.  

Having low self-esteem due to several factors, and not working for years due to my illnesses, I don't have a clue how to meet this Mr. Right.  My teens kept telling me to join a dating site.  My teen daughter would joke that she was just going to make me a profile behind my back and "hook me up".  Finally, I caved in.  I was upfront about my health problems from the beginning.  I didn't want to play around, so if it's a problem to someone, I wanted them to know up front.

Responses have provided me with great amusement, I can say that much at least LOL.  I've lost count of how many messages I've received from random men that say "So, do you smoke pot?" ...or "So, are you in pain every day?"  ....or "How do you manage living with a condition that causes pain".  I respond, and then if I'm lucky, I get back a generic response that says "Well, I hope your pain isn't too bad".  That's pretty much the end of it.  

Those questions are all pretty good for starting conversations about awareness.  Not so good for starting relationships.  It seems like whenever a guy reads that I have chronic pain conditions, they're curious about the condition ...but not about a relationship with me.

Then, we have my best friend of almost 20 years.  We've dated in the past, as a matter of fact, we were even engaged once.  No matter what though, we've always ended up remaining best friends.  If ANYONE could understand, it'd be him.  Well, he didn't.  All I ever hear is "Amy, I'm so sorry that you have problems with your health".  Well, me too Nate, me too.  I finally couldn't take it any more and told him if I heard "I'm sorry" one more time, I was going to seriously come unglued.  I live with a chronic pain condition.  I'm not on my death bed.  Then, he wanted to try a relationship.  I finally start thinking that maybe I won't have to live my life alone, when out of the blue that is done before it even got started.  He just treats me like I'm a complete invalid.  I'm NOT.  Then, he wants to party all the time.  I'm not into all of that.  I never have been. I couldn't even if I wanted to, because I take medicine every day.  Back to just being BFF's.  Another Mr. Wrong, for my situation.

I know that there are good guys (and girls) out there.  I know that there are those who are willing to learn about someone's condition, and are actually eager to learn about it and stick it out with someone who has a chronic pain condition.  I'm just not sure that there's someone out there like that for me.  Fibro, arthritis, and COPD give me feelings of sadness and depression as it is, and my hopeless feeling about finding Mr. Right is really getting to me tonight.  I think I'm just giving up for the time being.  I'll do as I've done for the past 15 months.  I'll sit here and hide behind my computer.  I'll pour my heart and soul into doing what I can to create awareness about chronic pain conditions.  I'll advocate for our patient rights, for further research, and for a cure.  Please God, please let them find a cure.  Then, maybe I can actually live for the rest of my life, instead of sitting around waiting to die.

Almost A Year Later, And A RAOK Challange

As Easter quickly approaches, my mind keeps wandering to a year ago.  Last year starting on Good Friday, my world came crashing down.  I remember hearing my husband's alarm clock going off, but I was too tired to rouse.  He had the day off of work, and was heading about an hour and a half South of us, to look at some public hunting ground.  He'd always loved to hunt and fish, and he said he heard there was a lot of wild turkey at this particular spot.  With turkey season fast approaching, it didn't seem odd to me at all, that he'd be going to check out hunting land. 

I laid there with my eyes closed, trying to stay enveloped in my warm, cozy, state of sleepiness.  I heard him get up. I heard him go into the bathroom and come back out.  I heard him get dressed.  Just as I was drifting back off to sleep, I remember hearing him come into the room and stoop down on my side of the bed.  I felt his breath on my face, and his soft lips touch mine in a kiss.  He whispered "Good bye, I love you".  I whispered "Bye, I love you too.  Be careful". Little did I know, that would be the last time I'd ever hear him say those words to me.

The previous night, Jason had told me he'd be home by 1pm.  Around 11:30am or so, I tried to call his cell phone knowing he'd be on his way home.  He didn't answer.  I figured he must just be delayed on starting back home, and that he'd be returning my call any moment.  An hour past, and my phone hadn't rang.  I tried his cell phone again, and the same thing.  No answer.  This time, I left a message.  This scenario went on for another couple hours.  After that, his cell went straight to voice mail.  He'd turned it off.  I was bewildered, scared, anxious. You name the emotion and I probably felt it. 

Late that afternoon, I checked our bank account online and it was empty!  I honestly started hyperventilating and crying uncontrollably.  I knew this meant he was gone.  He'd taken all the money we had, and he'd left me on a holiday weekend.  We'd been at the grocery store earlier that week and I suggested we buy what we needed to make Easter dinner, but he'd told me no.  He said that we'd go shopping for our Easter dinner on Saturday, that way we wouldn't have to freeze the ham, or have it taking up refrigerator room.  At the time, I thought that was reasonable.  In reality, he'd just screwed us out of having an Easter dinner.  -Not that I could eat much anyway being so upset, but it was screwing my kids, my family, out of an Easter dinner.

Hope.  What a small word, but one that can mean or bust anything in life.  I kept up hope that he'd show up and we'd go buy what was needed and have Easter as a family.  I kept up hope that he wouldn't be cruel enough to leave me over a holiday.  That even if he wanted to leave me, and was going to leave me, that he'd at least come home and buy what we needed to make a holiday meal for our children and us.  Our family.  

None of my calls were answered Friday or Saturday.  Our then 16yr old daughter at the time, kept sending him text messages to which he wouldn't reply.  Finally, on Easter morning at 11:30am he sent our daughter a text message that said "I'm leaving your mother but not you.  I'll be home late tonight to get my things".  He'd been cheating on me with a woman he'd met online on some game site.  I couldn't believe it. I couldn't stop crying uncontrollably.  I felt like I couldn't breathe and I honestly thought I was going to have a heart attack and just die.  That's no exaggeration.

I hastily typed a facebook status saying something about what a jerk of a guy I was married to, that he'd left me completely out of the blue, wiped out our bank account, and didn't even care that our family wouldn't have an Easter dinner this year.  Then, I ran sobbing to my bedroom and laid down in bed, not knowing or really even caring, if I'd ever get back out of bed again or not.  I laid there sobbing and gasping for breath, and must have fallen asleep without realizing it. Before I knew it I heard my dog start barking.  Then, I heard a knock on my front door and my daughter talking.  I heard her say "Oh my gosh, this was so kind of you guys.  I can't thank you enough".  I tried to hurry and get out of bed to see what was going on.  In my state, I was fumbling around and it took me a minute or two, to walk out of my room.  By the time I got out to the dining room, my daughter was standing there with grocery store bags on the table, and holding one in each hand.  

"Courtney, what's going on?" I asked.  She started lighting crying, as she'd been crying and upset about our circumstances too.  She said "Mom, that was Joe.  He said that Mandy saw your facebook status and said that no one should go without an Easter dinner.  They went out and bought everything we need to make an Easter meal and brought it to us.  All the way down to pie and whipped topping for dessert".  Once again, my tears started flowing.

What's even more amazing?  This beautiful young woman didn't even "know" me.  Her fiance, Joe, and my oldest son met in drivers ed class years before, and he'd been a friend of the family ever since. Joe wasn't living near us anymore, he was living with Mandy whom I'd never met in person.  To this day, Mandy and I talk on facebook but I've still never met her in person. 

This beautiful young woman is Mandy.

When I'm super upset, I can not eat.  I hadn't eaten anything since early Friday morning, and this was Sunday afternoon.  Knowing I was too upset to even cook, my youngest son and his fiance took the bags of food to the kitchen, and they started making us a meal.  With everyone coaxing me to eat, I managed to get a few bites of everything down.  

Although embarrassed and ashamed that I couldn't buy the stuff for our dinner myself, I was so so very grateful for what this lady did for my family and myself.  I honestly couldn't wrap my mind around it.  I couldn't believe the lengths she went to, just out of the kindness of her heart, to bless a family she'd only heard about, and read about online.  

In all honesty, which you all always get from me whether you like it or not lol, I was worried how the approaching holiday was going to affect me emotionally.  I was afraid that I'd feel my heart being ripped out of my chest again.  That the pain would come flooding back.  But guess what?  The thing that I actually keep thinking about the most, is the random act of kindness that was showed to my family.  Yes, writing this made me a little emotional.  I've blinked back tears a few times while typing this.  A year ago those tears were because he left me.  Because of the hurt I felt.  The way he left me.  Wondering what I was going to do.  This year though?  Even right tonight, while typing this, most of the emotions I'm feeling are due to Mandy and Joe showing us the unexpected love and humanity that they showed us.  

No matter how many words I write, or how hard I try to convey how grateful I am for what was done, it won't be enough.  I just can't find the words to describe how it made me feel and how thankful and grateful I was (am) for it.  I vowed that I'd always try to provide RAOK's in return for the one done for me.  I still don't have any money.  I hadn't worked in years due to my health.  I'm fighting appeals with social security to receive disability.  Our one saving grace is that I don't have a mortgage or rent payment. My house needs a lot of work, but we bought it outright with cash when we bought it.  I'd love nothing more then to be able to surprise a struggling family with a complete Easter dinner this year, but since that's financially impossible for me to do this year, I'm trying to do as many free RAOK's as I can.  

I challenge you all to provide as many RAOK's between now and Easter as you possibly can.  It doesn't have to cost you anything. Since I struggle financially so much right now (yeah, that part about not leaving his daughter?  He went from June 10th until mid-January without seeing his daughter one time, and is $5000 behind in child support.  He DID leave her too) I do what I can that's free.  For example, while grocery shopping late one night, the store was almost empty.  There was a very elderly lady in there shopping.  She met my eyes with a smile on her face and I smiled back.  She paused and said hello.  I spent over 10 minutes just standing (which oh my gosh just kills me pain wise) in one spot, talking to this poor, lonely old woman.  By the end of our conversation, she thanked me for listening and asked she could give me a hug.  Well of course!  Being hugged is honestly one of the TOP things I miss about not having my husband any more.  Another time, an elderly woman looking at something on the bottom shelf at the store. She had her eyebrows knitted down and looked genuinely concerned.  I stopped and asked her if she needed something on that bottom shelf.  She did.  I almost didn't make it back up, but I bent down and retrieved the item for her. She was oh so tickled, that I still felt good about doing it a week later.  Heck, even today it still makes me happy.  The other day at the dollar store, a lady was in line behind me and only had two items.  I told her to go ahead and go ahead of me in line.  <----That one I do a lot of the time.  Once, a man and woman were buying several packs of hot dogs.  They were on sale.  I had a bunch of coupons that when doubled, made the hot dogs free.  I approached them and told them how I had coupons to make them free, and asked them if they'd like a couple.  They were so tickled up.  -I'll admit, I kind of felt like a freak approaching them an asking if they'd like the coupons, but I'm glad I did as they were so happy about them.  My most recent RAOK, was just last week.  I again was in the Dollar General store in my tiny little village.  I have a bunch of coupons for $1 off kids Colgate toothpaste.  My store has it priced at $1.  I picked up four of them that trip for free (well ...close enough to free.  The sales tax was $0.07/ea).  A lady was in line behind me and looked pretty hard up.  She had two sweet little kids with her.  A little girl that looked around 5, and a little boy that appeared to be around 3.  I asked her if she'd like a couple tubes of kids toothpaste.  I explained to her that I got them free.  She acted bewildered, and said sure.  So I took them out of my sack and gave them to her.

I may not be able to do much, but I hope and pray that the little things I do, heck ...even by having The Fibro Frog, is making a difference to someone.  Both this blog and the facebook page ...which I'm completely guilty of posting way more there then here on the blog, bring me joy every time someone tells me "Thank you for his page.  You're page is what helps me make it through a day sometimes".  I hope that sometimes when I smile at a very elderly man, or woman, or couple in a store, that the warmth and love I have shows through my eyes and somehow touches them.  I'm not a Saint by any means.  I still have days where I sit and cry, and feel sorry for myself.  I still can get mad and have a quick temper.  Sometimes I have to really watch my mouth.  Over all though, I feel like I'm a good person, because my heart honestly is filled with a love and passion to help people.  In any way I can.  I'd always heard about RAOK, but I'd never been the recipient of one.  Until last Easter.  It completely changed me.  The pure joy it left me with, drives me to keep trying to give back.   Would you join me and possibly help change someone else's life, like Mandy did mine?  Do a RAOK.  Try it, it's fun and will leave you with a wonderful feeling inside.  

Tired ....and Not Just Physically, Mentally Too

In fact, I'm more then tired.  I'm exhausted both physically and  mentally.  I'm going to put a disclaimer here, that this post is not a happy post that's filled with fake "rah-rah my illness doesn't define me" crap.  It's going to be the truth.  The truth of how I feel.  If this may offend you, then please don't read.  If you do read and it offends you, then I'm truly sorry but that's on you, because I've placed a disclaimer warning you not to read the post in the first place.

A lot of people across the net doesn't like me.  Or my blog.  Or my correlating facebook page.  They say that as an advocate I'm supposed to do nothing except to "support" people.  I'm supposed to never post anything negative.  I should always sound upbeat and peppy.  Well, that's not who I am.  That's not what Fibromyalgia, arthritis, and whatever my still un-named autoimmune disease is.  When I have a good day, I'm extremely grateful for that.  I post on my facebook page about it.  I always have words of encouragement for anyone who posts on my facebook page that they're down or having a hard week ...or day.  Some times my encouragement may only be "I'm so sorry that you're having such a hard time right now.  I truly know how you feel, you're absolutely not alone.  I'm here for you, and so are almost 6000 other people on this page.  I'm sending you a huge, yet gentle butterfly hug and I'll pray that tomorrow is a better day".  I will never lie to someone, and if I don't know any answer to a question I'm honest about that as well.  I'll say something along the lines of "You know, I'm not sure but that's a great question.  I'm going to go research that and see if I can find the answer.  In the meantime, I'm going to copy and paste your question to make sure all of our community sees it and maybe others will be able to chime in while I'm searching for the answer".  A lot of fibro facebook pages have 10,000 members.  Some have 12,000.  I've even seen some with over 20,000!!  That's great and wonderful.  I "only" have close to 6,000 but I'm beyond thrilled with that, because those almost 6,000 people allow me to be myself.  To not compromise my integrity by conforming to socialization standards of trying not to show weakness.  To lie or sugar coat something, instead of telling the truth about the situation.  

All that said, I started this blog to have a place to journal my feelings.  To vent.  To scream and cry.  It was for me.  It was mine.  When I started getting followers, I truly was in a state of awe.  I didn't really know what to do, or how to feel about that.  My now nonexistent because my sickness was just too much to handle husband didn't "get it".  He didn't understand.  I couldn't talk to him about it.  When I did, he'd keep staring straight at the tv and mutter a "yeah" every now and then.  Until I'd ask him a question about what I'd just said, then he'd look mortified and say "wait, what?".  Ugh.  To keep my sanity, The Fibro Frog was born.  

Shew.  I guess that was a rant all of it's own, wasn't it?  Anyway, I'm tired.  I'm sad.  I'm depressed.  I'm not going to lie about it.  Life is feeling as if it's too much lately.  I've had cellulitis in my right leg.  It wasn't pretty.  Now, the doctor says the infection is gone, but my leg, foot, and ankle is still so swollen that it isn't even funny.  To try and flex or point my toes even a cm, feels as if my skin is in some sort of skin stretcher, that's going to pull it right off my body.  It hurts.  It looks disgusting.  The skin is bruised and peeling from all of the swelling.  I'm just tired of it.  I'm over it. I want it to go back to "normal".  

I'm tired of being in such physical pain every single day.  I'm tired of not being able to stand longer then 5 minutes at a time to do dishes or to cook, without it causing so much physical pain that I either gasp or cry.  Sometimes both.  I'm tired of not being able to sit in my living room and watch a movie with my family, because the furniture I have hurts me too bad to sit there.  It's too hard for me to get back up from.  It makes my neck, back, and knee pain excruciating if I sit there longer then 10-15 minutes.  Since I'm an honest kinda person, I actually hate it.  I'm so damn isolated all of the time.  I absolutely love a full house. I love people around me.  I was always a very social and fun person, and I've always had the knack to talk to people I've just met, like we've been old friends from years ago.  Today, I had a full house.  While everyone was in my living room laughing and talking, I was sitting in here at my computer (since my computer chair is the ONLY place I can sit half-way comfortably) all by myself.  I HATE this so much, that I have to stop typing every few minutes, to wipe the tears away that are stinging my eyes while typing this.  

My body is in a pain flare.  A huge one.  Last Thursday, my daughter in law was here and she went into labor with my first bio grand child.  I was so dang excited.  I couldn't believe that I was finally going to get to "meet" my grand daughter.  Her, my son, and I jumped in his car and went off to the hospital.  When we got there, she was already a 7!  We were only at the hospital for less then 4 hours before baby Sophia came into this world.  As the nurses cheered and the doctor was exclaiming that she was a "beefy one", I had a split second of joy.  That joy quickly turned to me chanting over and over and over again in my head "Cry.  Cry baby, cry.  Cry. Cry".  The cheers quickly turned to silence and chaos as three nurses rushed my limp, dusky, cyanotic, so purple she was almost black, first apgar score of 1 (yes ONE) granddaughter to the warmer and was trying to suction her with all of their might.  As a stat page for respiratory and the unit manager was going through, they were practically running with our new baby from the delivery suite to the nursery.  We were in a small town, podunk hospital that doesn't have a NICU.  No ped's or neonatologists on sight.  -Who would've ever thought we'd need one anyway, with a 39 week, text-book pregnancy delivery?  This was all at 7:46pm.  Three hours later, my son and I were still being told by the on-call pediatrician that they called in, that my granddaughter may not make it.  It could "still go either way".  We were told that life flight was on standby, that they may have to transfer her to Toledo, to a NICU.  For the entire first two hours of my granddaughter's life, I stood, in more physical pain then I think I've ever been in, in my entire life, plastered to one single spot infront of the nursery window watching 3 nurses, 2 respiratory therapists, a unit manager, and a pediatrician work on this little baby. All I could do is stand there and watch.  Watch while they put her on oxygen (50%).  Watch while they inserted an NG tube down her throat into her stomach, to release all of the air in her little tummy.  -See, she wasn't "beefy" at all.  Her stomach and chest was huge from all of the water and air trapped inside her little body.  Watched while Xray rushed in with a portable machine to take a chest xray.  Watched while she was given an EKG.  Watched while respiratory used suction down her throat and sucked 2cc's of extremely thick crap out of her.  Watched while they started an IV.  Watched while a repeat xray was done.  No matter the physical pain I was in, I couldn't move.  All I could do, was watch. Watch, and pray.  And try not to allow myself to fall apart because my youngest son was standing next to me with tears filling his eyes, and saying "but she's going to be ok, right mom?  You know a lot about medical stuff from going to nursing school and having four kids.  She's going to be ok, right?".

As much as I tried to keep a lot of the horror thoughts and images I had in my mind, out of my mouth to try and keep my son from crumbling, the ped didn't pull any punches with him.  She flat out told us that they don't have a NICU (which was quite obvious) and that even if she was transferred that babies can decompensate so quickly, that this could still go either way. That she wasn't going to give us false hope.  We were trying to keep some of the worry off of my daughter in law.  Because of the epidural they wouldn't even allow her to be wheeled to the nursery window to see her daughter. She went from 7 to 10 so quickly, that she was already between an 8 and a 9 when she got her epidural. Of course, it didn't have any time to work at all.  All of this mess with the baby, happened because she came so very quickly that the fluid didn't get squeezed out of her, as she was coming down the birth canal.  Her little lungs were almost filled all the way up with fluid.  In an essence, she was drowning as soon as she came out.  

By the time I left to come home, my feet hurt and burned so bad that I couldn't stand it.  My back hurt so much, that I felt as if it was honestly broken.  I couldn't raise my feet to take a step.  I was kind of shuffling and limping,  My head hurt.  My heart hurt.  I was so stiff when I got home, that I wasn't sure if I'd make it out of the car, and into the house.  My everything hurt and was swollen.  Especially my damn leg that I had cellulitis in.  At the hospital, I'd moved one time while my heart was standing still.  That was to shuffle away from the nursery window, a little farther down the hall so my son wouldn't hear the call I was making.  I quickly called my mom and when she answered the phone, I told her that the baby had been born, an hour earlier, but that it wasn't good.  I started choking back tears while I whispered to her to pray.  To please, please pray that God didn't take our baby from us.  Then, I wiped both of my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and took my spot infront of the nursery window, once again.  I'm thanking God, and I believe in the power of prayer.  My granddaughter ended up COMPLETELY off of oxygen (after starting off at 50%), by 2am in the morning.  She's just fine.  She's absolutely perfect. In my dad's family, every generation seems to have one red head born.  It looks like my granddaughter is going to be the one for this generation.  Here's a few photos of her that I've taken.

She gagged the NG tube out lol

Well, I was going to add a couple more from the day after she was born, but blogger isn't cooperating with me.  It keeps throwing the photo at the top of my post.  *sigh*  I'll give it another try, since I've typed between photos now.

Yay. It worked.  This is my youngest daughter holding the baby and my step-granddaughter, the baby's 1/2 sister.  

Look at her red hair!!  She's now getting some blondish-red in with the red, but she totally has the skin coloring of a red head.  Her scalp, face, belly, etc. is very red-colored.  One more.

Long story short, my body is still paying dearly for the abuse and stress from the birth of Sophie.  

So, now that I've taken you through the terrifying birth of little Miss Sophia, I can tell you the next thing I'm tired of.  I'm tired of being broke.  My lazy, selfish, POS soon-to-be-ex-husband is in perfect health, yet he refuses to work since leaving me last April.  A week here, two weeks there.  Usually just long enough for child support to catch up with him, and get me a check ...maybe two, then he quits.  His "girlfriend" supports him, so that he "isn't working just to give HER money" ...of course, talking about me.  

I'd give anything to work.  Not even for the money aspect, although it's desperately needed, but also for the social aspect of it.  I've already said how tired I am of being isolated all of the time.  I'm lonely.  I'd love to make friends.  I'd love to meet new people.  I'd love to have a reason and purpose to crawl out of bed in the morning, and to put on make-up and do my hair.  Not only would I love to be able to buy things for both of my granddaughters, but I'd like to buy things for my 17 year old daughter and myself too!  I never go anywhere to do anything fun.  I can't afford to.  I rented four RedBox DVD's last week for Courtney and I to watch.  Then, I could only watch one of them, because it hurt me too bad to sit in the living room.  That's it.  That's what our entertainment is.  I'd love to take Courtney and Leah (my 20 month old step granddaughter) to Cedar Point when it opens in May.  -And they have the electric scooters so I could totally do it without having to walk all day and night, but no money.  I'd really love to take my daughter, Leah, and Sophia to the Toledo Zoo.  Again, they have electric scooters.  Oh the photography shots I could get too (remember, photography is my passion).  Again, no money.  

I'm tired of feeling like a pharmacy from taking so many meds.  Meds that doesn't even help me.  I take them out of desperation, hoping that at some point maybe I'll be able to get even an hours worth of reprieve from the pain by taking them.  What I'm really tired of though?  The pound after pound weight gain that all of these damn meds are packing on me.  I'm to the point now, that I'm truly embarrassed to go into public and have others see me.  I don't have an ounce of self-esteem left at this point.  I'm also tired of the looks people in public give me. As I'm limping along pushing a cart in a store, I can almost read people's minds while they stare at me going by.  I feel like they're looking at me judging me for being fat.  I feel like they think I'm lazy.  -That one really hits home for people that I actually know in person.  I feel they think I'm just too lazy to want to work.  If people only had any idea how desperately I'd love to work.  I need to work to have any self-respect and dignity.  To meet people.  To have money.  I've gotten so fat from the newest meds I've been put on, that I don't have a single pair of jeans that fit me.  I only have 2 or 3 shirts that fit me the way they should.  I need new tennis shoes.  Again, no money.  No money to buy new summer clothes for my daughter either.  I'm tired of it.  I'm to the point that I honestly hate my body.  -That it has so many things wrong with it that I can't be a productive member of society.  That I don't have any life outside of the walls of my house.  That I can't sit anywhere 1/2 way comfortable, except for an old computer chair.  My body has completely failed me.  Throughout my life, I'd sometimes work a couple different part time jobs.  At one  point I carried 18 credit hours in nursing school, while working THREE part-time jobs and caring for four children ages 6 years down to 3 months old, all by myself.  I'm far from a lazy person.  I was a cheerleader all throughout school.  I loved and played softball.  I took Jazzercise.  I had a great, friendly, outgoing personality.  I was brimming with confidence and self-esteem.  I truly felt that I could accomplish anything in the world that I wanted to accomplish.  Fibro, arthritis, autoimmune disease, and COPD has stolen all of that from me.  It's reduced me to what you "see" today.  And I hate it.  I'll leave you with one last quote that I love.  That I need.  That I wish more then anything could happen for me.  I so desperately wish someone was there to hold me and let me "feel" that things someday may be "ok" again.

  

"Don't Let Your Illness Define You" ...Really?

This is a picture of my grand daughter Leah when she was 9 months old.  Why am I placing a photo of her on a post about illness defining someone?  Because it's a picture of her crying, and that's what I feel like doing every time someone tells me "Don't let your illness define you.  You have fibromyalgia-arthritis-lupus-RA-CFS-COPD-Fill in the blank with "whatever" you may have, but it doesn't define who you are.

Now, that sounds good, doesn't it?  To think of ourselves and others cheering us on.  Like the old half-time pep talk in the locker room when the football team is down by 20 on their home turf.  Cheering ourselves on.  I can hear the cheer of the crowd, as the theme song to Rocky starts blaring in my ear every time someone says this to me.

I used to be afraid to even think that I might be "allowing" my illnesses to define who I am.  I thought it would show weakness on my part. Well, as good as that phrase sounds, and as well-meaning as everyone is who says this to me and people like me, it's a bunch of hog wash.  I'm sorry, but it really is.  Stop and think about it for a minute.  Seriously.  How can an illness (or illnesses) that wrack every single part of our lives, not define us?  

I'm not even the same person mentally that I was before my illnesses.  In high school I had the nickname of "Little Miss Sunshine" by the "mean" girls, because I always walked around with a smile on my face and I tried to be nice to everyone.  I was a cheerleader.  Have you watched The Secret Life Of An American Teenager?  Remember back in the very first season how Grace was?  Take away the talking about religion all over the high school campus and leave the rest of her the way she was.  Always bouncy, happy, smiling, cheerful, trying to be nice to everyone, naive ...you get the idea.  That was me.  Now?  Not so much.  I sit around sad and depressed.  I feel worthless.  I hardly ever laugh or smile.  It's really hard to smile when you're in constant pain every day of your life.

Exercise.  I never really loved exercise, but I still did it.  I've even had a membership to a couple of gyms over the years.  The one thing I always prided myself on, was my legs.  I had so much strength in my upper legs.  They were always well toned without an ounce of "cottage cheese" on them.  They were my one asset that I was always proud of.  I was never stick-skinny, but I wasn't overweight either.  I've always been curvy.  Now?  I'd love to be able to exercise.  The medicine packs the pounds on me.  Not only do I have cottage cheese on my legs, but I'm obese.  I avoid having my picture taken like the plague.  I'm embarrassed at how I look, and to be completely honest (which I always am on this blog) I'm ashamed to be seen in public.  The fibromyalgia and arthritis keeps me from exercise.  When I can't stand up without audibly saying "Ow!" from the pain in my knees ...and I kind of waddle for the first few steps ...and walk hunched over a little bit due to the stiff back that sitting has caused (Oh yeah, that's one of the reasons social security just denied me, btw.  They said I could sit without it causing me any problems LOL. I wish!) how in the world am I going to exercise?  Besides the fibro and arthritis, when my heart rate rises or I do pretty much any kind of physical exertion, I get short of breath and can't breath. Heck, I woke in so much pain today (well, considering it's 3:12am I guess yesterday) that I couldn't get out of bed until my daughter came in and put BioFreeze on my lower back, mid-back, neck, and shoulders.  I was so stiff and hurt so bad.

Even up in my early to mid 30's I was told how much fun I was to hang out with.  I had friends.  Lot's of them.  -And not just internet friends like I have now, but real friends that would stop over unannounced.  Friends that would call me up and say "hey, let's go do something".  Friends that I listened to loud music with and danced with.  Friends that would exercise with me and then we'd end up doing more laughing and making fun of each other then we would exercising.  Friends that would spend hours on the phone with me.  Now?  I don't have IRL (in real life) friends.  I have one.  She's 56 years old, but young at heart.  Instead of enjoying going out, I'm always too tired or in too much pain.  Or else I'll know how going out of my house will make me hurt 100X worse for the next few days to a week.  When I do go out to the grocery store or someplace, I've had people look at me like I'm a lazy piece of trash for being fat.  I've heard people whisper about me.  I've had little kids come up to me and ask why I'm fat, until their mother looks mortified and quickly rushes them away while they're still turning their head to look at me.  Starting Sunday 10/14/2012, I'm going to start forcing myself to eat breakfast.  I'm going to start forcing myself to eat lunch.  -I usually never eat until supper because I'm just not hungry until then.  My problem with my weight isn't that I eat too much.  I eat way too little.  Therefore my body hoards any food I put into it, thinking that I'm starving to death.  That, combined with the meds, and with the fact that I don't exercise due to my pain is what my weight problem is from.  I found several yoga for beginners full workouts on YouTube so starting Sunday I'm going to try to do that at least three days a week too.  I don't know how much of it I'll be able to do, but anything I do accomplish is certainly better then nothing.  

This is me.  I have fibromyalgia.  I have arthritis.  I have COPD.  If I don't "let my illnesses define" me, then I'm denying a huge part of my existence.  I'm denying a huge part of who I am.  So after carefully thinking about this for quite awhile now, I'm going to say that my illnesses do define me ...and I'm not ashamed to admit that anymore.  People will still always say "Don't let your illness define who you are" ...I know that a lot of my fellow fibromites even say this.  That's fine too.  For me though, it just doesn't make sense to say that I won't let my illness "define" me.  It's a huge part of my life and has made me who I am today.