Woe is me, please set me be

I love my job. I work with people with disability, illness or injury to find work. Along the way they find pieces of themselves that being “disabled” in a society built and engineered toward the “normal” have gotten lost.  I live the philosophy of my employer. I believe every person has a unique skill, perspective or talent to by I g to an employer. The right person for the right job.

So why am I sitting on my bed, stressed and miserable, instead of at work? Doing what I believe in:

1) I have broken ribs and I haven’t stopped and looked after them. They hurt all the time. Way worse than fibro does at the moment. I need to rest.

2) I have had endless issues with a computer system from hell and yesterday it broke me. I couldn’t take one more phone call to the help desk for a short term if any fix. One more play nice instead of really saying what I meant.

3) I can’t breathe. I have hubby caring for my best interests at home, which I love. My work partner is also my personal trainer and I can’t breathe. I can’t be. Someone 8s always in my space, yammering or ordering or judging or just in my space. Can I shout ” look away!! Nothing to see”!!

4) Too many changes all at once. I have a full time job that is business and I dress differently and I often don’t recognise me. I went vegetarian. I went hard core work outs … as much as one can in this broken down body. My dad had a heart attack and a stroke and I discovered a well of anger at him. My blood brother can be Mary sunshine which is just fracking annoying and I feel disconnected and judged by my heart brother. Life is tough atm and much is self inflicted.

So one day at a time and don’t say the first though in my head. It is never going to be pc!!


I am f.i.n.e.

Take Care:  When you’re unwell,

do you allow others to take care of you,

or do you prefer to soldier on alone?

What does it take for you to ask for help?

I have a unique relationship with my health.  Can a relationship be marked by a complete lack of communication?  Half the time I am unaware that I am sick so I just carry on.  Finding out something is broken, requires xrays because a broken bone feels the same to me as a simple bruise.  If I do notice I am unwell then I will just soldier on – there may be some moaning, groaning and whining but essentially I just keep going. Oddly, I know when I am really sick I have this irresistible urge to clean the house. All of it, immediately!

I get frustrated when people try to help me.  It makes me feel incapable or dependent and being sick is already breaking my spirit.  I hate feeling even more vulnerable than normal.  I get very grumpy and hubby often just has to lay down the law.  Like at the moment with my ankle being injured Hubby is being very clear that I use the crutches and slow down.  Crutches and housework are incompatible, let me tell you!

I frequently end up in an ambulance on the way to hospital because I didn’t notice and it got so bad I don’t protest Hubby calling for help.  I HATE the pain scale because with a high pain threshold and fibromyalgia I am always in pain.  I can rarely differentiate the specific pains because I lump them all together and unconsciously suppress them.  If I say I am in pain – why is that never enough?  I also get sick of comments that I look well – what I look is PTSD affect and it doesn’t change.  I refuse to fake what they believe to be the “appropriate” look for what is wrong with me.

When I am admitted to hospital I get out early.  And yes hospital feels like prison to me.  I explain that I have a nurse at home but not that this nurse is actually me.  Hubby keeps quiet lol he is only so brave…  I always prefer being at home to recover and away from prying eyes – which I consider the medical profession to be.  I ma just used to dealing alone and HATE being helped to function.

I was charmed recently when my mother – in – law sent me a gorgeous get well card.  It was such a surprise and for all my grumpiness I really loved this acknowledgement of my current disposition.  I have it sitting beside me on the couch my current second home after the bed at the moment… sigh.  It makes me smile each time I see it.















I am not sure I get to the point of asking for help.   I can go to the doctor on his request for a follow up and be half dead and still not refer to my condition.  I just hate acknowledging illness or pain or I just don’t realise. More often than not someone else points out I am sick and need a doctor or I collapse and that forces the issue.

I am working on this and it is or it feels really slow.  When my ankle was diagnosed as having a hairline fracture it was the only part of me not hurting after I collapsed to the floor.   I just laughed … which of course just confused the nurse.  At that stage I had given up on explaining the pain I was in and how it would not match my affect … plus the meds I was on keep my mood and blood pressure fairly even, whatever the stress.

I often reply, I am f.i.n.e. to questions on how I am feeling.  The funny thing is that people believe it even when I am standing in front of them on crutches and grimacing.  I guess we believe and hear what we need to, even in that moment when we are with someone and could be listening to their words, rather than interpreting our meaning in them.  F.i.n.e. was once explained to me as feeling, incapable of normal emotion and some days that is fairly accurate.