My coffee smells like pee... wait... the other way around. My pee smells like coffee.

Ever want to write your thoughts down and you realize that you're not even sure what you want to write about because.... your thoughts are so scattered? I shall just type away I guess and see what my brain dumps out onto the screen. I type really fast so my fingers can ALMOST keep up with my thoughts. ("they don't call me Lightening Fingers for nothin'!").

I started to realize a while ago that some of the stuff that I've always HATED about myself isn't really ME. It's a symptom of my (self-diagnosed) Fibromyalgia. It's easy to blame stuff on that and use it as a "crutch" but I honestly think that some of the stuff is TRULY the Fibro, and not me. It's kinda comforting in a way to know that I'm not just unmotivated, stupid, lazy, unfocused, anti-social, etc, but that some of it stems from something not so much under my control. It's also kinda frustrating too though. *sigh*

FIBRO FOG. It's kinda funny, actually. And Ryan likes to make fun of it. (Just to make light of the situation, not to crush me. He's actually the most supportive, loving husband I could have ever thought up. :) ). The other day Ryan exited the shower while I was busy doing my hair. I hate when the mirror gets fogged up, one, because I can't SEE, and two, because I've been straightening my hair lately and the extra humidity doesn't help much with my naturally curly hair. Anyway, I proceeded to whine about the mirror fogging up "ROON! You made the mirror all foggy! ugh!". And of course he had a dad-humor type of comment "It wasn't me. It was your fibro foogggg.....". HAHA. whatever.

Anyway, it's REAL. I'd compare it to "Pregnancy Brain" which I've never had, but from what I've heard, it's similar. Forgetting to turn things off, forgetting words/names, forgetting things all together. I dunno how many times I've gone to tell a story or something and I can't think of the WORD I want to say. And it happens like 5 times during the story so everyone gets bored and drowns me out. I don't want to be like one of those old ladies who goes on and on with her story and says "no, wait, it was such & such.... Wait, no... what's the word?". But that IS what's going on in my head! Ew. Annoying.

In fact, most of the time I feel like an Oldster. A 23 year old in a 83 year old's body. hee hee!! I wish I was as cute as a nice lil old lady. I wish it was "cute" when I warmed up ol' Polly Pee Pack (the name so eloquently given to my rice pack by co-worker Brent) in the microwave at work. I called it Pee Pack or Piss Pack because the first few times I heated it up in the office, co-worker Ryan would say "it smells in here... like... urine" or something along those lines. And then he'd feel all bad once he found out what it was. It's pretty humorous, actually. He kept forgetting. Polly... I dunno where that part came from. Brent. Who knows. :) But yeah, from my scattered brain all the way down to my achey knees... I'm an Oldster.

I like myself sometimes. And I wonder what my personality would be like if I wasn't sick. What goes hand-in-hand with chronic pain?? DEPRESSION! yay! Sooo, depression has a big impact on one's personality. One's level of motivation, their willingness to call someone up and say "let's hang out", their outlook on the future which is what most of us dwell on, their attitude in general. I think I'd be more like one of those happy, run-through-the-field-of-daisies type of people. I think I'd be a runner (HA! I KNOW, hard to believe.) But seriously, I think I could be one of those people who get addicted to running if I didn't feel like I had my arm hooked up to an IV full of pure, liquid Pain that runs through veins the following day. I would be skinnier, hotter. :) It's nice to know that my husby loves me despite the 40+ lbs gained since we started dating... Maybe part of that is because he's also gained the 40+ lbs, too. Haha. It's fun to eat whatever you want. And I think it adds a level of happiness when you don't worry about counting calories and worrying about things like that... shoving your face into a slice of chocolate Sin Cake from Teaz Me. But I wish I could stand to run it off for 3 hours the following day. "Treadmill. Crank the incline up to 15 and run through the tears." -Elliot Reid, Scrubs. But it also adds a level of happiness to be in shape and good-lookin'. Oh well.

I'm sure I will have much more to say about my ol' sicky-poo-ness among other things, but for now I must go. I need to figure out where I should eat lunch (sick of EVERYWHERE), and go back to working instead of just pretending to work.

Good day!

-Lynds





This is me, SO excited to get a fibro book for Christmas! :)