Fibromyalgia, Stress, and Exhaustion

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I had some news on Wednesday that reminded me of my beloved pets’ health, the fact that they are old, with many of the associated diseases, and had a realisation about their mortality.

You don’t think about it that often.  Or at least I don’t.  I’ve had one of my cats since he was barely a month old, and my other since she was 2.  I’ve had my dog since she was 6 months.  My derpy boy is now 13, my girly cat 15, and my pupper coming up to 6 years old.  They’re starting to get into their ‘geriatric’ years.  Both of my cats have geriatric diseases – hyperthyroidism and renal failure (to differing levels) – and my girly cat has other serious problems with her back and legs.

It hit me like a Volvo truck to the face.  They’re old.  They’re going to die.  If I’m lucky I’ll get another 3-6 years out of any of them.  But sometime soon they are going to die, and I’m not ready for that.  I’m not ready for my babies, who I’ve had since they were so young, to be old.

So I did what all people do when they’re faced with mortality: I had a meltdown.  I sobbed.  I curled up and rocked for a bit.  Then I sat and put on high quality distractions so I could just exist as a brainless blob for the rest of the day.  By the time I was due to go to sleep, I was already aching.

The next day, yesterday, was agonising.  The stress kicked off a flare.  All my joints were stiff and muscles burned.  My head was foggy.  I could hardly see straight, let alone keep my eyes open.  After a few hours of fighting the fatigue, I curled up on the couch and slept for 5 hours.  I was still incredibly dizzy and exhausted, so I continued my blob.  I slept like the dead.

Well today I’m still overly fatigued and my entire body feels heavy.  Even typing is hard today, and I strongly suspect another nap is in order, despite the long sleep I had last night.  My joints are still stiff and achy, especially my knees and hips.  My motivation levels have completely bottomed out.  My ability to do even easy things, like play a game, is completely nonexistent.

And the only thing I can do is ride it out.  I’ve had to put on hold all the things I needed to get done because I just can’t.  Some of them involve driving for hours and heavy digging, which I can do on a good day, but holy hells bells I can’t do when I’m like this.

When this kind of thing happens you can either fight it or relax into it and embrace it.  I’m still working on the relaxing into it, I really have to force myself.  But it’s better to relax into it than to try and fight it!

The Importance Of The Outside

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I moved house three months ago.  Well, I should say, we moved house three months ago.  We moved from a small, 70s built house with a very small lawn (2x3m, with a 1.5x10m run down the side) into a large, 60s built house with retrofitted double glazing, a catio (a patio that’s fully enclosed to allow cats outside time without them being free-roaming), three lawns, multiple edged and established (but overrun and very confused) gardens, a rose bush taller than the house, and two raised garden beds fenced off down the back.  We have apples and pears, an olive tree (I still don’t get this one), so many magnolias of different colours, roses popping up out of trees, and a loquot.  We also have a fig tree stump with a lone fig stubbornly growing on it.  Oh, and a grape vine!

This garden is a mishmash of things and it is very overgrown with ivy and jasmine and weeds and I have never gardened before in my life.  The closest thing I had to a garden before now is my small collection of succulents who, despite all neglect from me, have continued to survive.

Now I have an established and overrun garden to manage.  And I never knew how much I needed it until I had it.

I grew up in a large, old, draughty villa with a 1/4 acre section and a veggie patch.  There were trees I would scale all the way up until I was too “cool” to do so (around aged 15-16, I was a slow bloomer), a cinderblock I would use to contain any fires I lit just because I could, and an overgrown section down the back end of the garden that I could hack at with my trusty home made wooden samurai sword (whittled out of a branch courtesy of one of my friends).

My holidays were spent at the beach.  We had a small, lockwood holiday home within 5 minutes walk of a quiet beach.  There was no TV, no dialup internet or world wide web (in fact, some of this took place before those days!), and mobile phones were still a pipe dream.  We had to make our own fun.

What I’m trying to express here is that I grew up in and around nature in every part of my life.  I was a hippy child, a wild child – give me some rocks and I’d scramble up them faster than you could say “that’s a big rock”, and I would try to climb every tree.  Most of the time I was even successful.

As I got older I withdrew from the outside more and more, finding solace for my teenage angst on the internet and the people there.  I had an Angelfire Page – actually I probably had about five.  I was onboard when MySpace first came out, and Live Journal.  I was on Yahoo Groups and DeviantArt.

I stopped going to the beach for the holidays.  I stopped going outside.

I moved into a tiny little cupboard of a room in an awful little apartment with only concrete and horrifically overgrown “gardens” to speak of.  Then into a house with a single tree and a lawn you couldn’t even swing a cat in.  Next up was a house with a bush back section and a small raised lawn, then apartments.  I became “modernised”.

That little wild child who lit fires in the garden and ran on the beach and screamed into the wind because it was fun just … withered.  And died.

Looking back knowing what I know now, I suspect a lot of that was to do with my fibromyalgia, the incredible stress of working full time in a highly demanding job, and the stress and anxiety of being with a narcissist.

Regardless, I neglected an important part of me, that little hippy girl, and it took moving to this house to realise it.

She’s slowly coming back, that dirt grubber, with every step I take on soil without shoes and every weed I pull out without gloves.  With every time I sit in front of the open doors to the catio and breathe in the fresh country air and admire the green that creeps everywhere.

She is slowly coming back, and with her, I become more grounded.  More robust and at peace with my life.

The importance of the outside is, to me, immeasurable.

Massage Therapy and Fibromyalgia

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I have always found I benefited from a deep tissue massage.  When working in my more boutique workplaces, we would have heavily subsidised 15-20 minute back massages every fortnight in the office.  The good ones would get right in there with their thumbs and elbows, while the not so good ones would give a formulaic “back rub”.

Unfortunately for me the waiting list for the local (good) masseuse is … rather long, and they’re not exactly cheap.  Which is good, they are worth the money, only it’s money I don’t have for regular massages.  So when a shiatsu massage pillow came up for sale on one of the facebook groups I’m on, I leaped at the chance!

I’ve had it for just over a week now.  I’ve used it every night.  It is amazing.

The first night I wholeheartedly over did it.  I slowly worked my way down my entire back, pressed the shiatsu balls to my hips and legs, to the pressure points around my knees.  It was too much at once, and while I felt sick the next day, I also felt less painful.

I’ve used it almost every night since and I have seen a tremendous improvement in my overall wellbeing.  I typically spend an hour slowly working my way down my back.  I really notice when I haven’t done my lower back properly – my hips ache a lot more if I haven’t.  I go all the way to the ischial tuberosity in the butt cheeks.  If I have time, I do the undersides of my thighs and my calves, by propping the massage pillow up on another pillow while sitting on the couch.

For me, I feel like a lot of my issues stem from nervous innervation from my lower back – these are the areas that are most affected for me, from my gastrointestinal tract downwards.  It stands to reason, then, that heated massage to bring circulation and relaxation to my lower back would improve things.

And it really, really has.  I haven’t been using my cane as much.  I’ve been doing more, feeling better, having a clearer head, and being in less pain.  It has been amazing.

I’m now eyeballing what I can get to do the entirety of my back in one sitting, instead of having to ease the pillow down step by step (and missing bits of my back) over an hour.  I’m sure there’ll be something suitable!

A Big “Fuck You” Kind Of Day

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It’s a beautiful day.

The sun is shining, the breeze keeps it cool enough to wear pants, all the animals are curled up and snoozing, and I have a large break from university.

I just want to scream at the world and hit inanimate objects and swear at the sky and flip off the butterflies.

They’ve done nothing to offend me, I’m just having a big “fuck you” kind of day.

It’s one of those days where I feel itchy inside my own skin, as though it’s wrong.  It’s one of those days where my elbow aches and my stomach won’t unclench and I have a permanent unimpressed bitchface going on.

I’ve done some woosah.  I’ve listened to my relaxing music and done my best to let it sweep me away.  I’ve done some stretches to ease my sore muscles.  I’ve stretched my back.  My last port of call is going to be a few minutes out in the sun.

Even though I’m doing all of these things, and they’re not quite working enough, I’m not fighting the feeling of almost manic anxiety and frustration.  Not fighting it takes conscious thought and effort, because we naturally want to push away the bad feelings and not feel them.  Unfortunately, that makes the bad feelings worse, because fighting them is also a negative feeling.

So when I’m having one of these days and I notice myself getting pent up trying to fight off the bad feelings, I take a big deep breath and relax my stomach as I exhale.  I take another deep breath and relax my stomach further, then work on my shoulders, my neck, and lastly my face.  I make ridiculous faces as I stretch out my muscles from their scrowl and reset my eyebrows, the muscles around my eyes (which always pinch when I’m stressed), my mouth and my chin.

And I just do this every time I notice I get pent up, which is every few minutes.

It’s interesting how much of an impact your facial features have on your mentality.  Or the way your body is, how clenched your stomach is, how tight your hips are.

Mental state is tied intrinsically with body state.  They influence one another, and a change in one produces a change in the other.  So it stands to reason that in order to relax the mind, one must also relax the body.

There are many methods of relaxing the body.  I find using music helps, as it gives me an external thing to focus on while I work my way through my muscle groups.  I also find lying in the sun helps, as the sun warms tight muscles and helps them relax.

It’s difficult to not go boneless like a cat in the sun!

 

Photo by W A T A R I on Unsplash

Double the Pregabalin

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I started taking pregabalin on the evening of my last day of work last year.  I did this specifically because we had a very busy period in the lead up to Christmas, and I did not want to be in any kind of vaguely altered state during this mad rush.

As it turns out, it was a good idea, as I experienced some fairly hefty dizziness during my first few days on pregabalin.  I was on the lowest therapeutic dose, 75mg twice daily.  My doctor advised that we had room to quadruple my dose, depending on how I responded, and we were

The week before last I had my first week of work experience, and so my first week of doing stuff, while on pregabalin.  75mg twice daily did not quite cut the mustard, and I found myself in quite a bit of pain by day two.  I also found myself with absolutely no energy by the end of each day, making it home as a zombie and crawling onto the couch to put my feet up.

Last weekend I doubled my dose.  This time the first couple of days involved some decent dizziness – nowhere near as dizzy as starting pregabalin, but definitely bad enough that I wasn’t keen to drive, but by the third day I was able to get around confidently.

It was immediately apparent that I had an increase in energy levels.  I have been able to do more during my days without exhaustion setting in.  On Thursday, I was up and moving / working / cleaning from 7am until 9.30pm, and while I was exhausted on Friday, I was no where near as achy and dead as I normally would have been.

I also have a much greater sense of peace and contentment.  Fluoxetine has worked very well for taking the edge of my anxiety and depression.  My resting heart rate gleefully sat at around 80-90, while my standing up and moving around heart rate would range from 95-115.  My heart rate, even lying down, would very rarely dip below 80.  My sleeping heart rate would be 50-60.  For me, these are pretty good values.  Before this I would usually have a resting heart rate somewhere in the 90s.

On amitrip (with fluoxetine), I’d have similar values, except for Tachycardia Monday, where my heart rate would consistently be over 100 (sometimes as high as 125) until about midday, and then it would go back to normal.

On 75mg twice daily pregabalin (with fluoxetine), I had fairly similar values as to fluoxetine only.  On 150mg twice daily pregabalin, my heart rate very rarely goes above 100 (even when I’m standing up and moving around) and typically sits around the 70s when I’m sitting and the 90s when I’m moving.  Sometimes it even goes as low as the 60s when I’m lying around!  Since beginning to wear my Apple Watch (specifically for this reason) almost a year ago, I have not recorded values as good as this.

So not only is there a clear physiological effect of lowering my heart rate (I suspect by some cool actions on my central nervous system), it also has the effect of relaxing me mentally, and giving me a sense of calm, contentment, and relaxed energy I have only really experienced when on a really good holiday.

I am hopeful that this continues for the long term and it’s not just my brain getting used to the increased amount of pregabalin.  If it does, I may have my life back!