Dear Body,
Okay, you know what? Fuck you. What the fuck, Body? Why do you do this? Is it some masochistic thing that I don't know about?
I slept well into the afternoon. I started exercising gently with yoga poses, Pilates stretches, basic floor exercises. And I dropped in pain, and I dropped to the floor, and I crawled to the couch, and I lay there and I lay there for a while. I thought, what the fuck is the point of exercising to relieve fibromyalgia pain if I'm in so much pain that I can't actually exercise?
I want to be fit. I want to be healthy. I'd love to be able to carry a forty-pound bucket of cat litter from the front door to the litter box area. You know what? I'd love to be able to carry a six-pound bag of dry cat food in a shopping bag around through the Metro system, on the bus, and all the way to home without wanting to cry. Six pounds, body. Six. Pounds.
I feel like a physical failure.
I've stopped reading some fitness and health magazines because I'm starting to depress myself. I'll tear out pages that show different exercises and I'll do those exercises as best I can. But the articles don't usually take physical disabilities and chronic conditions into account, so I skim them.
This is what I want: I want strong muscles that will do their job. I want energy and stamina. I want to be able to walk or jog a full mile and say it was easy. I wouldn't mind being able to see the muscles under the skin, either, but that's lower on the list. I don't have much excess unhealthy fat, so that's not the issue. The issue is that I have no strength, no stamina, no energy... and therefore, I upset myself, and mildly depress myself, and curl up on a couch and tell myself not to eat unless I am actually hungry because I don't want to be one of those people who binges from boredom or sadness.
Body, you aren't what I want. I love you sincerely, I do; but something needs to be done to improve you. Because eventually, I will have bad muscle tone, and too much excess unhealthy fat, and weak lungs and a weak heart, and I'll be depressed and angry at myself.
I don't want to blame you, Body. I'm not blaming you. I can't blame anything except the unfortunate circumstances. I have a chronic pain condition that can be debilitating. I have a physical disability that causes pain, muscle tension, and muscle weakness. I have asthma. I'm still recovering from years of anorexia.
But none of these health problems should prevent me from keeping myself healthy, staying in shape. I want to do this. Years and years ago, I was very skinny, but I was not healthy. Now I am around twenty-five pounds heavier and much healthier, but not as healthy as I could be. I want to be.
Dear Body, will you help me?
Love,
Jo
PS, to my Friends List: Any exercise program you can recommend will be appreciated. (Except swimming. I don't have access to a pool. Eventually I might, but right now, no swimming.)
PPS: I'm watching the second season premiere of "Torchwood" -- and hey, it's
Spike! Yay!
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