I’ve been quiet lately, and I’m sorry.  I should have sent out at least one project to a friend (sorry, Sue!), and I really should have been writing.  And editing.  And formatting.

I haven’t done anything this week except hunker down and try to ride the pain.

Pain is something that I should be used to.  I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 1998, and for those who don’t know about this disease, it’s basically pain.  Everywhere.  All the time.  It ebbs and flows, but there is precious little time that I don’t feel some level of pain.  And, as I realized this week, pain is exhausting.  Like, bone-numbing exhausting.  As in, all I feel I’ve been doing is working, eating and sleeping.  Seriously.

It’s getting old.

I don’t WANT to hurt all the time.  I don’t WANT to be 40 years old and walking with a goddamn cane.  I want to be healthy, as pain-free as I can get, and energetic.

I just don’t know how to do that yet.  (This is normally the point where people jump in and tell me what they’ve done.  I actually don’t want that today.  I know it’s done to help, but it’s not what I need right now.)

But I’m learning.  A lot of it is learning to accept that there are going to be days where the pain wins.  Where I just can’t do more than get out of bed, drag myself to work, and then home to bed.  Where the writing won’t get done.  And that’s okay.  Those days just need to not be every day.