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http://fibromyalgia-book.com/book_202.htm
Since the fibromyalgia pain just isn't going to go away whenever I ask it to, no matter now politely, it's time to rethink my strategies for doing... anything.
I forget things. Or I start to do things, collapse in pain, go rest, and forget to finish. This happens with fibro. Sorry, but it does.
Two weeks ago, Adam replaced all the faucets in the bathtub. He asked me to clean up the bathroom afterwards. My fog-addled brain (blame epilepsy, the epilepsy medication, and the fibro) interpreted it badly. Two weeks later, Adam was irritated. I don't blame him. Yesterday, he cleaned and scrubbed the tub until it gleamed, moved around the hanging racks, adjusted the curtain. He says he wants it spotless, that it still is not done. I feel guilty. He mutters that he's the only one in the house who actually does any work. I feel massively guilty; guilt and self-rage shoving through the constant haze of pain.
Here's the thing, though: Adam's work ethic is that of "Push myself hard and never stop until everything is done, and then fall over when I run out of adrenaline and my body finally catches up and smacks me down; then get up and keep going no matter what."
I cannot do that. I can't live like that. I can't accept that philosophy. I'd kill myself working like that.
My work ethic is "Do as much as I possibly can for as long as I can, take breaks, finish up when it no longer causes excruciating pain, and even when it does, keep taking small breaks until eventually it's done."
I think our work ethics clash severely. Especially when my memory craps out. I'm not being lazy, honest. It's not that I don't care. I try. I try really really hard. And yet I still feel guilty because my husband suffers from chronic pain too. He has a chronic back pain disorder that really fucks with him. But he chooses to ignore it. That's how he works. He pushes past everything and doesn't quit until his body forces him to. And then he complains that he hurts. And sometimes he doesn't take painkillers because he's "manly". But he'll lie on a heating pad that massages for two hours. And then he'll get back up and do it again. I wonder if it all comes from working with his mother, being often forced to work for days on end at the flower shop with no sleep, little time to eat, and rarely any rest.
I wonder if it annoys him that I don't want to work that way, that I can't put my body through that like he can, just "buck up and do it, the pain doesn't matter, ignore the pain, it's nothing, you'll get through it, you can do anything, there's no pain you can't work past."
And I think it annoys me that he wants me to think like that.
However, our relationship is full of compromises, compensations, honesty, and understanding. We don't fight. We bicker, we argue, we disagree. But we always, always come around a few minutes later laughing. We understand. We see through each other's eyes. We each know how difficult it can be, we know it can work out and be okay. Sometimes we're just cranky and grumpy about random whatevers, we take it out on each other, and then it's done. However, I admit that because we've never had true fights, we've never had makeup sex. What's that like?
I want to clean my bathroom until it's gleaming and I'm sore. I want to scrub it down until I can see my face reflected in the tub, in the floor tiles, in the sink. My brain says, "Yes you can! Go do it! Do it right now!" Then my body says, "Oh, fuck this, I hurt too much." There needs to be a point in between, where I can compromise, balance brain and body; where I can say, "This hurts like an absolute monster bitch but I can do it and I will do it and I will find ways to compensate and compromise, so it gets done because by god I need to do this."
I've been compensating my entire life. You'd think I'd be able to do it with constant agonizing forever pain too.
/end rant
I feel better. That needed to come out.
Hey honey? I love you. I'll clean the bathroom.
Since the fibromyalgia pain just isn't going to go away whenever I ask it to, no matter now politely, it's time to rethink my strategies for doing... anything.
I forget things. Or I start to do things, collapse in pain, go rest, and forget to finish. This happens with fibro. Sorry, but it does.
Two weeks ago, Adam replaced all the faucets in the bathtub. He asked me to clean up the bathroom afterwards. My fog-addled brain (blame epilepsy, the epilepsy medication, and the fibro) interpreted it badly. Two weeks later, Adam was irritated. I don't blame him. Yesterday, he cleaned and scrubbed the tub until it gleamed, moved around the hanging racks, adjusted the curtain. He says he wants it spotless, that it still is not done. I feel guilty. He mutters that he's the only one in the house who actually does any work. I feel massively guilty; guilt and self-rage shoving through the constant haze of pain.
Here's the thing, though: Adam's work ethic is that of "Push myself hard and never stop until everything is done, and then fall over when I run out of adrenaline and my body finally catches up and smacks me down; then get up and keep going no matter what."
I cannot do that. I can't live like that. I can't accept that philosophy. I'd kill myself working like that.
My work ethic is "Do as much as I possibly can for as long as I can, take breaks, finish up when it no longer causes excruciating pain, and even when it does, keep taking small breaks until eventually it's done."
I think our work ethics clash severely. Especially when my memory craps out. I'm not being lazy, honest. It's not that I don't care. I try. I try really really hard. And yet I still feel guilty because my husband suffers from chronic pain too. He has a chronic back pain disorder that really fucks with him. But he chooses to ignore it. That's how he works. He pushes past everything and doesn't quit until his body forces him to. And then he complains that he hurts. And sometimes he doesn't take painkillers because he's "manly". But he'll lie on a heating pad that massages for two hours. And then he'll get back up and do it again. I wonder if it all comes from working with his mother, being often forced to work for days on end at the flower shop with no sleep, little time to eat, and rarely any rest.
I wonder if it annoys him that I don't want to work that way, that I can't put my body through that like he can, just "buck up and do it, the pain doesn't matter, ignore the pain, it's nothing, you'll get through it, you can do anything, there's no pain you can't work past."
And I think it annoys me that he wants me to think like that.
However, our relationship is full of compromises, compensations, honesty, and understanding. We don't fight. We bicker, we argue, we disagree. But we always, always come around a few minutes later laughing. We understand. We see through each other's eyes. We each know how difficult it can be, we know it can work out and be okay. Sometimes we're just cranky and grumpy about random whatevers, we take it out on each other, and then it's done. However, I admit that because we've never had true fights, we've never had makeup sex. What's that like?
I want to clean my bathroom until it's gleaming and I'm sore. I want to scrub it down until I can see my face reflected in the tub, in the floor tiles, in the sink. My brain says, "Yes you can! Go do it! Do it right now!" Then my body says, "Oh, fuck this, I hurt too much." There needs to be a point in between, where I can compromise, balance brain and body; where I can say, "This hurts like an absolute monster bitch but I can do it and I will do it and I will find ways to compensate and compromise, so it gets done because by god I need to do this."
I've been compensating my entire life. You'd think I'd be able to do it with constant agonizing forever pain too.
/end rant
I feel better. That needed to come out.
Hey honey? I love you. I'll clean the bathroom.
