Good days, bad days

I woke up at 3:00am in terrible pain. It was one of those "I feel like I've been thrown out of a moving car" nights.

I may sound a bit blithe about this, but that's because I have fibromyalgia, a syndrome/disease/something that I am not sure I "believe" in. At 3:00am this morning, I believed.

Today is ruined, at least as far as plans go, of which I had a few, and one was fairly important.

Why am I writing this? Why am I typing, anyway, when all my fingers hurt so much?

Perhaps it's only to say that I have fibromyalgia, right in the midst of a flare-up, to remind myself that it's real, and to tell anyone reading this that if they know anyone who has it, that it's exhausting and causes most people to miss appointments, obligations and occasionally be dead tired and cranky. That person, like myself, may have stopped mentioning it years ago. Unfortunately, others tend to think I'm just somewhat flakey about appointments, obligations and my house cleaning. Or just think I'm flakey.

Actually, I'm one of those people who's a bit neurotic about always being on time, always meeting deadlines early and what I call "chore equity" around the household. Having fibromyalgia has been a challenge to my attachment to being so "good". I sometimes wonder if there's some correlation. I feel guilt-ridden and self-judging on days like this. I wind up acting like a bad mother to myself with messages like "You really don't feel that bad. Just get out of bed". Well, I did, and I can say with certainty, I'm no good for anything but going back to bed or some light reading.

But,I felt like writing a bit. Now, I will put my hands under the faucet and let cold water run over them, pick a graphic for this post, and be done.

Image note: I thought, "yeah, good day for some dark, brooding image." Nah. I love fabric. Why not cheer myself up? See more here. And, it's a good day for "Good Day":