Good stress.
Bad stress.
No difference.
I haven't been up to writing. Thank goodness for the guest post because my mind hasn't been focused on writing. Plus, my hands haven't been cooperating either.
My daughter's wedding is approaching and with it lots of festivities. Her bridal shower was over the weekend and by the time it was over I was in bed curled up in the fetal position. It was happy and joyous but, at the same time, I was in a lot of pain. We had the shower in the afternoon and a dinner in the evening. It didn't matter how happy I was or how much I was enjoying myself; the pain still reared its ugly head.
I then realized that it didn't matter what kind of stress that surrounded me. Good stress is the same as bad stress and I've got plenty of both. Even things of beauty cause pain.
Stress, whatever kind, equals more pain.
My hands have been particularly uncooperative. I read an article once about Martha Beck. She's a life coach that has Fibromyalgia. She wrote that her hands hurt so bad that she had to tape pencils to her fingers so that she could hit the keys on the keyboard. I totally understand that one! I have to move my fingers slowly because the movement causes pain and then I have to hit the keys with little pressure because that also causes pain.
Now, let's talk about the weather. If it wasn't bad enough, it began to rain on the morning of the shower. That's just the icing on the cake. I nearly had to crawl to the shower! When my daughter arrived the first thing she asked was, "how are you feeling?" She knows that rain plays havoc with my body. It's sad, though, that on the day of her bridal shower she has to worry about pain.
Now, let's talk about the dress shopping excursion. Moving first thing in the morning is very difficult for me. The joints are very stiff and I look like a 200 year old woman getting out of bed in the morning.
Attractive visual, isn't it?
So "the moms" are popping in and out of stores. That, in itself, was comical to watch. My popping in and out of the car days have come and gone. Then I won't even get into trying on dresses! How depressing! A few years ago I'd look on the racks and pick out an 8 or a 10 and not worry about a thing. Now, between the prices and the size I'm ready to scream! I don't like looking like a stuffed sausage and especially don't like it when I'm photographed. My greatest fear is looking like that in her wedding pictures.
However, I digress.
So we finally find dresses and I got home at 3:30. I promptly got in bed and remained there. I hurt so bad that I wanted to curl up and cry. The twins were making my life miserable. The twins....my name for fatigue and pain.
I am not a weak sister but when I want to stop shopping and go home something is wrong. When I am praying to the gods to get me out of Nordstrom's and into bed something is MAJORLY WRONG. The old phrase shop till you drop could definitely apply to me. I loved to shop and I was pretty good at it. I passed the Philosophy counter and the girl that had always helped me smiled and waved. I guess you could say I was fairly well known at the makeup counter in Nordie's.
All of this really sucks.
After all of this narrative the point that I'm trying to make is that stress isn't good. Stress, whether good or bad, is an assault on the system and I'm trying to figure out a way to alleviate it. I do try to stop and breathe my way through the pain. Sadly to say, so far, that hasn't helped so I will just keep trying.
I guess Bret Michaels was right.
Every rose does have it's thorn.
My thorn is Fibromyalgia.
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