I still mourn over breakfast. I used to make elaborate breakfasts and invite family and friends over. I loved cooking early in the morning. It is a remarkable confidence boost to pull off a delicious breakfast. You have to time all the dishes so they are hot at the same time. You run back and forth with the flapjacks and coffee. It is a meal that I relate to showing love. Momma always makes a hearty breakfast. I come from a long line of people who work with their hands. Breakfast is a stick to your ribs type affair and Momma does it up. I used to too. Since I started getting fibro flares every morning, I wake up in severe pain. My feet and hands don’t want to move, and a lot of the time hubby has to massage them before I can walk or hold things in my hands. The rest of my body isn’t doing so well either, with the aching and stiff muscles and sometimes severe pain in my hips and shoulders. This really does not make me in the making breakfast mood.
My husband is the greatest in the entire world. He makes breakfast most of the time before going to work. For a while I felt intense shame, guilt and yes…mourning. I was sad I couldn’t entertain like I used too, I couldn’t show love like I used too. Luckily, husband isn’t here for my breakfasts. He loves me for my cuddles, my adoration, my conversation, and my wit. He loves me deeply and without breakfast. Every morning I was apologizing to him for not feeling well. He would say, “I know, but you are sick. I understand.”
There is only so many times you can wake up to feeling bad before depression sits in and you don’t want to do anything at all, all day. Also, saying you’re sorry over something you have no control over is also pretty debilitating. I say I am sorry for my body more times than I can count. I am sorry I am sick. I am sorry I didn’t clean today. I am sorry I am depressed. I am sorry I am emotional. I am sorry I don’t have enough energy to make breakfast. I am sorry I can’t walk there. I am sorry I can’t make that coffee date. I am sorry I can’t meet my volunteer commitment. I am sorry I can’t spend time or energy on this or that. Pain has no understanding of my schedule. Pain doesn’t care what I want and it sure as hell doesn’t care what anyone else wants.
So, I am not apologizing anymore. I’m done. I will say thank you, when my husband takes the reins on meals, when he does more than his share of chores, or applies his healing hands to my painful muscles. I will say thank you for understanding when my friend isn’t upset because I am going to miss a coffee date. I will say thank you when I have to beg off a call because the fibro fog has taken over and I just can’t deal. I will say thank you and value the people in my life who help me when I need it. I will continue to be a good friend and partner, but I will not…say…I am sorry…anymore.
I will not be sorry for my genetic makeup. I don’t believe anyone who has chronic pain, a disease or syndrome should. There is no cure. There are only treatments which slightly lessen my pain and even that seems random. I can’t fix it, you can’t fix it. Saying sorry makes me feel deficient, lacking. I don’t believe that anyone in my life would say that I am not a good friend or family member, even if I feel like it all the time. I am trying to break myself from feeling hopeless. I can’t continue to feel like I am inadequate.
To my friends and relatives: If you catch me feeling sorry for myself or saying sorry, call me on it. To my fellow fibro sufferers: You are enough. I hope you understand just being a human and friend is enough. You don’t have to bake the best cookies for your loved ones to love you. You don’t have to be at every event in their lives for them to care for you. You don’t have to show your love in the same ways you did before. The ones who truly love you, will still love you when you stop. Just find a new way to show love. Believe that you are worth being cared for when you need it, and taking a time out when you need. You are not alone.