Tea & Whiskers: Fibromyalgia

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 2009. I was 19. I had dreams, hopes - honestly, I still have them, much hasn't really changed in the past 16 years in regards to my dreams of having a family of my own, but, I have grown stronger, and come to accept and love myself and that journey I would not change. Chronic pain can be crippling, and there are days when I truly, deeply struggle to hold myself above a tide of despair - yet hope prevails.

This is a photo of me in early 2009 - on our first (and last) big family overseas holiday, we went to New Zealand. There is so much to be said about 2009 version of Kylie, it was a very defining year in my life - but today I just want to talk about fibromyalgia.

What is Fibromyalgia?

Well, how it manifests can vary from person to person, but basically, it is a chronic pain disorder.

Now I'm a bit of a My Hero Academia fan - which for those who don't know, is a brilliant anime that leans into subversion of the comic book hero trope without destroying how great the idea of heroes are.

Thus, let's put on our anime nerds hats, and right now, I am going to tell you that fibromyalgia is like being trapped in the grip of an evil villain's quirk, incapable of escape. There is no hero who comes to rip me free, it is just relentless pain burning through my muscles, deep into my body. The pain can stab, burn, ache, bubble, prickle - it can change its torture method.

Fighting a villain constantly is exhausting, therefore, I am fatigued, so, I live in a foggy abyss sometimes.

I feel though, perhaps the worst part for me, is that hugs - something so simple, and precious, something I cherish and crave - hurt. It's as though my body betrays me. That it, itself, became the villain. I want to run fast. I want to do ALL the things. My body says, no. And I have had to learn to accept that I have limitations - this has been very, very difficult. But - In saying that -

I do not ever want to accept letting a villain win, even if that villain is chronic pain.

Constant pain wears you down.

I remember this one particular day, about four years ago now. I was in such a bad state. I had no food in the house, so, obviously, I had to go shopping. I cried as drove to the shops, dragged myself out the car and found a trolley to using to prop myself up. It was as I was standing in line at the checkout that I came to a horrible realisation; I couldn't stand. I didn't know what to do. Should I call my sister, my mum - my dad?

I started crying.

I did eventually make it back to the car, but I was a mess.

All I wanted was just to go shopping for food.

I just - wanted - to do a normal THING. I found myself slipping into a defeatist attitude. This villain had won.

There was nothing I could do to save myself.

However, it was the trip that my sister and I took the kids to the Adelaide Show that ended redefining my thinking. That morning I woke up in extreme pain. Everything I wore felt like it set me fire. I sat in the corner of my room and I cried. How was I supposed to do this day out, when I could barely stand.

But I went out, and I enjoyed the day with the kids. My sister took a photo that day, of me with the kids, and it's a nice photo.

That night, when I received it from her, I sat in room staring at it. Oh. I thought. That's me. I got up, and I looked in the mirror, facing myself, as if I'd never really 'seen' myself before. I asked myself a question. "Do you think you're worth it?"

"Yes." I replied.

"Then do something about it. Prove it." I asked myself another question. "Where do you think you'll be in five years if nothing changes?"

"Dead," I replied. "Then do something about it."

The next day, I emailed a personal trainer and started saving up for the gym. I have consistently gone ever since.

The gym hasn't erased my fibro, I'm writing this in pain, but it's given me strength to cook, and lift my niece like she's a feather. Where once my life was a void, it is slowly becoming a field of possibilities. I no longer feel entirely like a trapped princess, incapable of escaping her tower.

We all have a hero inside us.

I hope you, dearest reader, can also find that hero - let me know your own adventures and battles. We all have them. You've got this.