by Melissa Avery

Created on: May 20, 2009

It started in my mid - twenties with a persistent, agonizing pain under my left shoulder blade. Following that were bouts of severe fatigue and depression that eventually led to me losing my job. During these bouts I would become disoriented, unable to focus long enough to make it to job sites, and find myself back at home crying in bed thinking I was going nuts.

I adapted to the pain that several doctors, x - rays and scans couldn't explain. I pushed through the fatigue, fought the depression and went back to work. Then, in my early thirties, I fell apart. At least, it seemed that way at the time. Everything hurt. I constantly felt like I had the early stages of the flu. Muscle spasms would hit me so hard that I would go to the Emergency Room positive that something had ruptured or torn. The pain was the worst in my shoulder, where it all started, and in my neck, lower back and hips. The muscles in my forearms and down the back of my legs felt heavy and strained. The more pain I felt the more depressed I became because I couldn't find the energy or the motivation to do everyday things.

Again, after several doctor's visits, tests, scans and being poked like a pincushion to test for everything from Thyroid problems to Lupus, I was told there was nothing wrong. What were they telling me? I'm lazy, or crazy or both? I was tempted to believe it. It's hard not to when professionals are telling you that there is nothing wrong with you, because if there is nothing wrong then it's in your head, right? So, along with the pain, the bone weary tiredness and confusion comes the guilt.

I sometimes think the guilt is the hardest to deal with. Even now, after 8 years of finally being diagnosed with something tangible, I still feel guilty. I feel guilty when I can't hold my 3 year old daughter because my legs don't have the strength. I feel guilty when I don't want to play catch with my 6 year old son. My oldest daughter has so much stuff going on at school; chorus concerts, talent shows, not to mention wanting to have sleepovers and I'm just too tired. I feel guilty that I'm not making a financial contribution to our family and my husband carries that burden alone.

Why do I keep going? Why do I get up every day and take my vitamins, my meds and do my stretches? Why, when I dread opening my eyes and feeling pain, do I bother to get out of bed? Because my 3 year old smiles every time she sees me. She still runs to me when she pee pees in the potty so we can do the Potty Dance. She forgives me for the times I'm grumpy, or can't hold her, so how can I not go on?

Why do I bother to hope for the "good" days when they are so few and far between? Why do I envision paint colors for my walls or flowers for my garden when there are so few days when I can actually accomplish anything beyond the basics? I do it because my 6 year old son and my 11 year old daughter still make me laugh. They still want me to be proud of them and they still look to me for guidance. My kids think I'm the best mom in the world for some reason in their little hearts My husband still thinks I'm beautiful even though I've packed on some pounds since this started, so I think I'll just keep listening to my family instead of to that rotten little voice that still tries to tell me that I'm lazy, crazy or both. How can I give up when I am needed for more than just the physical things I can or can't do? I can't and I won't.

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