A few days ago, I had to begin taking a low dose of medicine for fibromyalgia again. With physical therapy, exercise therapy, and changes to my diet, I had no longer needed the dreaded capsules that ease the pain in my muscles and the never ending fatigue but cause me to gain an keep on weight and, at high doses, are terribly sedating. While off the meds, I was so glad, hoped I was healed. Certainly, I and others pray for my healing.
But over the past month, there’s been an increase of pain. Fatigue has crept in. The night came when I realized, I’ve been here before. My pressure points screamed when I touched them. My skin hurt. Sound had become grating noise.
It does strike me that I didn’t notice the changes. I never do but I’m always surprised. And there is no one in my life on a day-to-day basis who would notice that I was wincing and hugging myself and exercising less and not writing and just unable to get much done.
This is one of the reasons we need community. We need to be told when we’re not doing well: the eyes of family and friends often see what we ourselves do not. We need to be told when we are still not at the place we want to be. We need to be told when we are doing better than we thought, when we’re being selfish, that we are loved, that we are seen and valued and of worth. In our desire to be independent, we still need those who are involved in our life each day. We need to be involved in others’ lives. We still need to be two or three (or more) together in His Name in order to be fully human, in order to become like Christ.
Every Friday,100s of bloggers set a timer, write for 5 minutes, and then publish the results. We don’t edit or engulf ourselves in concerns about whether our writing is worthy to be seen. We expose our incomplete, unpolished thoughts and words to each other and our readers. Kate Motaung’s, at Heading Home, provides the prompt on Thursday evening. We all link our posts there and tweet them with the hashtag #FMFParty. Join us.