Yesterday was a very difficult day. It was challenging both emotionally and physically. I don’t intend to share the emotional challenges as the actual detail of them is not for public consumption. They did, however, impact greatly on my day. My mood was extremely low for the duration of the daylight hours: lower than it has been for a long time. In fact, it was worryingly low.
I have long-term depression and anxiety and, because of this, I try to be aware of possible problematic changes in my mood. My state of mind is easily affected by external factors, as well as internal, and the situation can become worryingly acute in a short space of time. Luckily I have some leeway with my medication to help me through glitches.
Having only developed Fibromyalgia very recently, I am not yet familiar with how it reacts to changes in my mood. However, the signs were not good yesterday. All day my movements were sluggish and I was very quiet. I was trying to sort out what I need for our forthcoming trip but I was failing woefully. Usually I pack at the last minute – either the night before departure or, if we are leaving after lunch, I will pack on the day of departure itself. However, I had felt the need to be more organised for this trip – partly because of the nature of the holiday and, probably more realistically, because of Little Miss Fibro. But it just wasn’t happening. I kept trying to work through a category of item and pull together the relevant items, ready to be packed, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I kept sort of slowing to a stop and going off for a coffee, or a rest. I knew that I should really get stuck in, but I simply couldn’t. It just wasn’t happening. (Am I beginning to sound like a low-budget movie? It’s feeling like that to me.)
I had little, or no, motivation, I was lacklustre and my eyes looked continuously exhausted all day – you know that sort of drugged-up to the eyeballs, not-interested-in, not-connected-to anything look? That was how my eyes looked. It was a struggle to even start on sorting and packing, let alone finishing it. However, at long last I managed to complete Part I, the sorting. I went downstairs for, what seemed like, my 27th rest of the day – with coffee. As I began making the coffee the exhaustion approached. I tried to rush to finish the tiny tasks I was fitting it, but I could feel exhaustion taking over my body, inch by inch, seeping into every nook and cranny. I managed to do those tiny tasks and to actually put the boiling water into the mugs without scalding myself… then I collapsed into the chair. I didn’t even have enough energy to crumple!
Oh, boy! What an attack! I was virtually paralysed in the chair. I couldn’t lift my arms or hands, not even a finger, without a huge amount of mental and physical effort. My mind couldn’t think. All I could do was breathe. I felt as though my body was being squeezed by the exhaustion, preventing me from moving a muscle. When I spoke to Peter he could barely hear me as my voice was just a whisper – it was such an effort to make my vocal chords work. It almost feels frightening when I have have that “almost paralysed” stupor, but not quite, as I am confident that it will pass. Having said that, though, this episode and its after-effects, lasted much longer than previous episodes. It took several hours to shake it off, about four and a half or five.
Once all of the symptoms of that episode had passed I felt much brighter in mood, livelier and more able than I had done all day.
The experiences of yesterday have brought home to me how much I have to learn about living with Little Miss Fibro. I know that I was having to push myself yesterday and I saw the possible consequences of that. Another steep learning curve under my belt!