Someone asked me how I still do things during the most wildly unimaginable fibromyalgia flare-ups. When the pain is so extreme that flexing my fingers makes me cry.
I could only answer: "I have no idea. I just do things. I collapse later. But things need doing. If I have an urgent task in front of me and I am alone, I can't whine about it and not do it, because it won't do itself. I have to do it. I just hurt a lot while doing it. Once the task is finished, then I can fall over. But I refuse to surrender to my pain just because the pain is trying to destroy me."
This is something my mother instilled in me during my early childhood, after the doctors discovered my cerebral palsy. My father was much more lenient and easy-going. I was physically incapable of balancing on a bicycle, so we used training wheels. That was very difficult, but easier than working without. My father wanted to quit and cuddle me. My mother looked him in the eye and said, "No. You take her back outside, you get her on that bike, you show her how to ride, and you ride with her. She will do what she needs to do. She is going to work with her disabilities. She will compensate. She is going to do the best she can with what she has. She will not lie down while she can still stand."
It may seem harsh, but it worked. I carry that with me. My mother can be aggressive and outspoken, but she knows what needs to be done. My mother gave me strength and power. My mother gave me will and heart. My mother took me to specialists and therapists. She always helped me realize my limitations, but she always taught me to know my limitations. She showed me how to pack an extra insole into all my left shoes, to help with my limp. She showed me how to walk with my feet pronated, since my feet naturally would supinate severely. She showed me how to position and swing my left arm while I walked. She showed me basic yoga and pilates moves. She taught me how to compensate for anything that required fine motor coordination. She taught me that while I could not do everything, I could at least do something different that suited me.
Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I rediscover the simplest things about myself. Through it all, I remember, understand, realize, and know: My parents helped shape my soul. I know I am fortunate; not many people can say that anymore. A lot of fellow fibro patients I've met never had the family support that would help bolster and boost their personal confidence.
I am loved.
I won't lie down until I am finished.
Once I am down, I may not get up for hours.
When I get back up, I will continue.
This pain cannot break me.
I will not lie down while I can still stand.
Thank you, Mom.
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