2am Insomniac Musings


It’s 2 am. Why am I awake?

I seem to be asking myself this a lot lately. I have fibromyalgia. I have severe flare ups when the weather changes in Spring and Autumn and the past month has been hell. Almost literally.

As you know, I have a bouncy, energetic, very snuggly four-year-old and lately I have to remind her not to touch me. Or climb on me. Or try to sit on me. Or keep her elbows away from me. This is hard on both of us. She’s just being herself and I’m just being a crotchety old fart who is practicing for the NO FUN award. :/

The good news is, well, I can’t be sure of this, but the good news is that it should be going away as soon as the weather makes up its mind to either be warm or cold. This back and forth stuff is nuts. The longer the atmosphere twirls and spins the longer I suffer.

That’s a horrible word and I don’t like it. I know there are other people who have it worse than I do. Probably MOST people. I’m not whining…I guess I’m just admitting out loud I have limitations. And reminding those of you who love me that “Hey, I have limitations!”  LOL

Right now (and during other flare ups) I am tired all the time. Except bedtime apparently. Sometimes I can’t lie down because just having my body touch things hurts. Some people ask if it’s muscles or ligaments or bones and right now I hurt so much I couldn’t begin to figure it out. What I can tell you is…

I walk like my 85 year old neighbor who probably thinks I’m making fun of her. 😐

I’m not, of course. Funny though….I go over there to help her because she can’t do a lot of things like she used to. I feel like a fraud though because most of the time she’s in better shape than I am. And then I have guilt.

I was doing all right when all I had to worry about was my house and my family. And I totally agreed to take on her house and her family (to a small extent). But there are days I kick butt at her house and come home and nap or just sit around because I can’t do anything else. My house suffers…which means The Man comes home to a dirty house. (I hate that.)

The pain is distracting. I forget things. Like where I put my house keys. Or my reading glasses (those are new too…I’m so old) or I forget to make tea. Worse…there are times I’m staring at something and can’t think how to work it. Like the coffeemaker. Or the toaster. Or I can’t remember what I have to do to brush my teeth and I stand in the bathroom staring into space because it’s right there but I can’t find what I’m trying to remember.

I am a Christmas tree.

During flare-ups I have to think of my body as a Christmas tree. My head is the star on top and my arms, out a small distance from my body, are the “tree”….and during flare ups I can’t lift my arms higher than the “tree”. It hurts. Lifting things hurts. I can’t get things out of cupboards. I can’t pick up the bag of sugar off the counter. God forbid Abby wants me to hold her. I have to tell her I will, but she has to come in the living room where I can sit down first.

I feel like I’m trapped in a 90 year old body. Some mornings I awake to discover that I must have died while I was asleep because rigor mortis has set in and I can’t move or straighten out or bend my appendages. Lately my “Good days” are when OTC pain relievers actually relieve some of the pain.  I have other days where I’m pushing them in my mouth like M&M’s.

So, it’s 2 am and I’m awake. Hoping for relief. And sleep. And the energy and movement that will allow me to take care of my family. There was a time I didn’t think that was too much to ask.


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