Today every bone in my body aches. Every one of those bones is tired. I am working on some writing projects tonight, and I put in 11 hours at the day job today. Friday cannot come soon enough, because I am looking at those 2 simple days of the weekend as the one thing that may help me keep my sanity.
Today I did some thinking about pain. My shoulders have been really hurting due to long hours typing, and my hips and legs have been hurting due to walking and standing all day every day. Add to that a nice little stress-induced fibro flare, and you have my current physical state. Tomorrow we have appointments with the Young Quack Doctor who does not believe in fibro and thinks all my problems are due to the fact that I am fat and *he thinks* that I lie on the couch and eat bonbons all day. He told me earlier this month when I called begging for his help and an anti-depressant besides Cymbalta (Cymbalta made me want to commit, daily, hourly, and sucked every bit of life and soul out of me) that he could do nothing to help me. All after one appointment. So not sure I will be wasting my time seeing him tomorrow.
So anyway, what function does pain play for me? It does little to impress, and less to inspire. It makes me feel like a stranger in my own body, because it actually does get the best of me, and I am no longer able to transcend or ignore it.
It is my reminder I am not in control on any level.
It is my reminder that pain is a power greater than myself, and that I can no longer ignore what I chose not to acknowledge.