It’s been few weeks (or more maybe) that I didn’t take a single look at this blog. Not that I have been incredibly busy or something but I just felt like I had nothing to share, nothing to tell about. The truth is that here I am now, trying desperately to put words on my feelings but still not convinced that my experience is worthy enough to be shared. Some will tell you that any experience is worth sharing and being told about but I’m not. I realized that there were things I couldn’t even tell to myself, things that I felt too ashamed of to be able to share and Yes, those things are directly related to my condition. I stopped writing articles the moment I realized that I wasn’t even sure, myself, that I had the right to talk as a patient. How can I be sure when there are days I just feel like it is gone! like I’ve been cured and that everything was all in my head.

Now I can admit it. In fact I NEED to admit it. I tried to fool myself. I tried to force my body and mind to think that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me and that putting some more efforts into getting better would actually make me feel better, and no need to tell you it didn’t work out that much!

What I mistook for getting better was actually getting worse. What I considered as some kind of convalescence was no more than denial. I thought that I was doing pretty good in dealing with my sickness and how others perceive it while in fact, I was trying to deny it and vulgarise it more than anyone else around me. I tried to put my pain on the account of « real » reasons like fibromyalgia wasn’t real enough. I even came to think that I wasn’t « sick » enough to be considered a real fibro patient per say; cause I stupidly mistook the « not so bad » days, for a proof that I might have been overdoing it or just faking it. No matter how much articles I read, how much support groups I reached out to, how many things I couldn’t do because of the pain that was killing me, I still thought that I was doing right and that I was not sick after ONE single pain free day.

I don’t need anyone to make me feel weak and crazy, I have myself. I blamed my family and friends for not being supportive enough, for not making an effort to understand what I was going through instead of just asking me to shake it off and stop finding excuses. I hid in my apartment for days and shut my phone down just to stop hearing things that made me hate myself. I decided to take the time to deal with the symptoms that were crushing  me one after the other and learn to get along with my condition. Instead, I kept blaming myself for all the things I couldn’t do. I labeled myself  » lazy, ungrateful sociopath » in a attempt to explain my behavior with the people I love and I kept repeating to myself over and over again

« They can’t all be wrong, I must be the one doing it wrong. »

« You need to stop putting your failures on the account of a sickness you are not even sure you have, and that’s an insult for people who actually suffer from it »

« You think that the pain you are feeling compares to the one « sick » people have? Girl you are a Fraud »

« Stop acting like a capricious little girl and get your life back »…

Self-motivation has never been my strong point

I’m pretty sure you know what happened next.

I fell apart.

I provoked a nervous breakdown that even my supportive and loving husband couldn’t handle. I fought myself for not doing something irreversible. I begged myself not to make me hurt my body who put me into this at the first place. For once, I felt that physical pain would be a relief comparing to that. I wanted to put an end to it, then cried cause I didn’t want to. I want to be happy. I want to live. I don’t want to give up but I just can’t do it anymore…

However, I am still doing it. I am still doing my best to erase these awful reflexions and bring up the best. While falling apart, I thought of all the amazing strangers who encouraged me to start this blog. Who inspired me with their courage and their positivity. Who never once told me that I was over-reacting or faking it (I’m the one who has been taking care of this part).

So I wrote this article to tell them the truth. That I keep thinking that I am not sick and that fibromyalgia is not the answer nor the cause. That if there were an award for « self-depreciation », I would have earned it. That no matter how much my body hurts and my skin rashes, I still think that it’s all in my head.