I am in a world of hurt today and I knew I would be. I told myself so yesterday. But I did what had to be done anyway.
It was really a no-brainer, of course. I have fibromyalgia and have had it for about 44 years. By this time, I know my body fairly well and I know fibromyalgia as well as anyone.
But sometimes we have to do things we know are going to hurt. Frankly, I prefer the emotional hurts, because it seems I can heal from those more quickly – at least most of them.
So what in the world did I do that has caused me to be in so much pain. I cleaned things out, sorted them, moved them around – not one thing over 10 pounds. But definitely LOTS of them.
I was working on cleaning one room in my parents’ house for about 6 hours. I didn’t quite get it finished, either. But I had to stop. I started feeling my body aching about that time and knew it would be worse the next day. If I continued, the pain would increase exponentially. So I stopped.
When you’re busy, you don’t realize how much you’re doing and how much movement it is taking. I realize it right now! I must have used every muscle from the top of my head to my toes. I realized it by the time I got home yesterday, actually. I drove into the driveway and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to shut off the car, drag myself into the house and collapse on the bed. My husband knew it was going to be a bad day today (after 14 years of living with me, he’s seen it many times). As he tells me, sometimes I push myself too hard and seem to try to forget I have fibromyalgia.
The problem is that no one else has done anything to clean out the things that my parents accumulated in the 40 years they lived in that house. Just me – and my husband when he is available. They had a 2 story house; the living quarters were upstairs and the first floor was a screen printing business. I’m talking tons of stuff. My stepdad was an artist as well and kept many books, magazines and pages of same for reference. I may well have a literal ton of paper to go to the recycler.
My sister hasn’t touched the place. As executrix, she pays the bills. But she gets “freaked out” going to the house alone (my daughter, too). My son will help if we tell him exactly what to do; but he has Asperger’s Syndrome, so without explicit directions it won’t happen.
Yes, my sister is busy. She works full time. She just bought a new house. She has yet to put her old house on the market. Poor planning if you ask me – but you probably didn’t. Her husband runs his own small store. But you can’t convince me that they haven’t had any time since February when they could go over and clean out a drawer or closet. My husband and I have cleaned out the living room, den, dining room, kitchen, half the upstairs office, the bathroom, the studio (almost) and arranged the cleaning of the mold that had blossomed in the basement.
Okay, I sound bitchy and cranky. I admit it. But you (and anyone else who happens to read this) are the only ones who will know. I have learned one lesson here: DON’T ACCUMULATE STUFF. People will only have to dispose of it later. I think I’ll give everything away before I die and save people the trouble. After all, my daughter has fibromyalgia too. She won’t need this kind of task. Time to stop complaining.
How can I be so sure of that? If 44 years with fibromyalgia has taught me anything, it is that bitching about pain doesn’t make it go away. I’ve learned to smile and be positive (most of the time) regardless of how I feel. The few people who know me best know how bad I feel from time to time. The rest won’t care, so why burden them with the truth.
Well, that’s enough griping for one day. Time to go make dinner. Then I can take some pain meds, with food in my stomach. Smiling . . . time to get up . . . ow, sorry.